More Than Meets the Ink (22 page)

“Listen, I’m a bit in a hurry now, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’m thinking about coming to Boston for a visit next week.”

“That would be great. Just let me know when, and I’ll pick you up from Logan.” They used to be very close, but since the accident, Elle had been on the run. Maybe now she was done running and Tate could have her sister back. One could always wish.

“Great. By the way, sorry to call so early on a Monday.”

His mouth on her ear and his hands on her breasts were a bit distracting, and she lost track of what Elle was saying. She giggled.

“Tate, are you there? Are you listening?”

“Yeah…no, what? Sorry, I didn’t hear you, what were you saying?”

“I said I was sorry I called so early on a Monday.”

“It’s okay, I was about to get up anyway,” she said as another giggle escaped her. She slapped at James, but that didn’t deter him as he continued kissing and nipping her ear.
Stop
, she mouthed at him.

Elle was silent for a long second.

“Tate, are you with someone?” She waited too long to say “no,” and Elle, who was no dummy, was all over her. “Oh my God, you have someone in your bed,” she said with a squeak. “While we’ve been talking. Groosssss! What’s he doing there? No, no, erase that; don’t tell me! Aw shit, it’s not that asshole Aidan, is it?”

“No, it’s not him.”

As James narrowed his eyes on her, very much daring her, she braced herself and said it out loud. “It’s James, Mr. Bowen’s son. Remember I told you about him?”

“The tattooed guy with whom there wasn’t going to be anything more than a vacation fuck?” Elle sounded stupefied.

“Yeah, that one. We’ve been…seeing each other.”

She felt herself blush at her own admission, and James laughed.

“We’ve been doing more than that, princess,” he mumbled to her.

“Seeing each other?” Elle’s tone was shocked. “But I thought you only liked soft-handed, expensively perfumed, self-centered metrosexuals with an acutely developed sense of fashion and themselves, not ‘tattooed Neanderthals’! How did you slip to the dark side? Oh wait, he’s that good, uh?” she said morosely, her words tinted with laughter. Then she stopped abruptly. “You’ve been keeping up a conversation with me while going at it with tattooed Wonder Boy? Oh Jesus, I need a shower! Yikes. I’m hanging up now. Have fun. I expect a full report when you aren’t…horizontal. Talk to you later.”

Tate glared at James as Elle hang up. “That went well. Now she thinks we’re a couple of horny rabbits that can’t keep their hands off each other.”

“Well, as long as she’s already thinking that…” he said, delving his hand between her thighs.

“I don’t think so, you sex maniac,” she said, giggling and squirming away from him. “I’ll take a shower; you start with the breakfast. And no, you can’t come with me to the shower. I’ve told you a million times we don’t both fit in there.”

His heated gaze followed her; she could feel it. “Yes, we would. It’s just a matter of you squeezing tight against me.”

“Yeah, right!”

“Spoilsport,” she heard him complaining.

On her way to the bathroom, she turned on her laptop and opened her e-mail. She was waiting for the price list one of the new suppliers was supposed to send her, along with an old invoice.

As she turned the water on, she heard the chime of the e-mail.

“You got an e-mail,” James said.

“Check it out; it’s probably from the suppliers. I’m expecting a new price list for the cheeses.”

Then she remembered. Oh shit! Prince Charming’s e-mails were there too. Fuck, fuck! She flung a towel over her and all but ran out of the bathroom. Maybe there was still a chance James hadn’t noticed those.

The second she saw him, she realized it was too late. He was sitting in front of the computer, knuckles white. She looked at the screen. Damn, it had been that asshole e-mailing her again, not the suppliers. It’d landed in the folder named Prince Charming, where all the other filthy messages were, and James was now scrolling through them.

His body was tense, and his eyes looked at her in fury and disbelief. “What the fuck is this?” His harshness drew her back.

“No one gave you permission to look at those,” she said, trying to keep up the bravado.

His hands fisted even more. His tone hardened. “Cut the shit out, Tate! What the fuck is this? There must be over a hundred e-mails here!”

Yep. One hundred fifty-seven to be exact, Tate thought. She winced as James began zapping through them. There were all so filled with filth, she winced at the thought of James reading them. “I have a bit of an assholeish admirer, that’s all.”

He shot up to his feet so fast the chair flew backward. “So I’m good enough to fuck you, but not to know there’s a wacko stalking you? Is that how little you think of me?” He darted toward her and grabbed her upper arms. “When the hell were you going to tell me, Tate?”

“I didn’t think it was that important.”

“Not that important? Not that important? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he said with a snarl, looming over her.

“I had no clue I was supposed to tell you every damned thing!”

He ignored her. “I knew you were hiding something from me, but never in a million years would I have guessed you’d keep something like this from me.” He was so pissed and hurt, rage marred his voice and darkened his eyes. “Did you at least go to the police? Or did you think it wasn’t necessary?”

She shrugged him off. “The police? Hah! Don’t make me laugh. They were the first to suggest I was making those up to get the insurance to cover for the fire. They were useless!”

“The hell they will be once I have a little talk with them. This asshole almost burned your place down once already, Tate!”

“You don’t know that for sure, and you don’t have the right to meddle in my things.”

“Right. Pack your things up; you’re moving in with me.”

“What?”

“You heard me!”

She giggled nervously. “I can’t move in with you. Be reasonable. Besides, you live a thirty-minute drive from here. I need to be close to the restaurant. My car’s old and unreliable.”

“You’ll take my car.”

She made a face at him. “Your monster truck? Don’t be ridiculous. I can barely reach the pedals.”

“Then we’ll buy you a new car.”

She frowned and crossed her arms, thinking about the benefits of storming out in a huff. “No!”

“Fine, then I’ll move in here.”

His words effectively stunned her. “What? Why? No!”

“What do you mean why? You have a wacko stalking you,” he yelled, more furious now that she wasn’t complying. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. And don’t test me on this.”

She tried to calm him down. “You’re exaggerating, James. I don’t have a stalker problem. I really don’t. Listen to me. You know how annoying yet harmless it is when you open your e-mail box and a hoard of spam plops down? Well, this—my problem—is like spam, annoying yes, but basically harmless.”

His pacing came to a halt, his body trembling from anger. “Have you lost your ever-loving mind? Haven’t you been paying attention? It’s escalating; this last e-mail is more aggressive than the one before that. He isn’t only threatening the restaurant, he’s threatening you. Dammit, Tate, you’re in danger. You’re dealing with a sick fucker; he won’t be content with messages. Sooner or later, he’s going to want to meet you face-to-face. I won’t allow that; I want you safe.”

She jutted her chin up. “Even if you’re right, that’s not a good enough reason to move in together.”

“Do you need another reason? Well, here’s one: if we lived together, I could fuck you all the time. Having you 24-7 in my bed is very attractive.”

She laughed. “You can come over and stay in here as often as you want. I bought this bed for you, after all. But I’m not moving in with you. And that’s final.”

He looked ready to spit bullets. “I’m installing alarm systems here and in the restaurant. And you’re getting a panic button.”

“I can’t afford—”

“Not another word!” he roared. “This is final too. I’m getting those for you, and that’s that. And don’t push me right now, Tate. I’m not in the best of moods. Take your shower, get dressed. The mall will have to wait. We’re going to my place to pick up the alarms; then we’ll come back here to install them. And that’s only for starters. Then I’ll call the police.”

“But—”

“Not. A. Word!”

She wanted to drive her point home; she was no child and not to be muscled out by his bossiness every time he got his feathers ruffled, but today wasn’t the day to take a stand. He’d reached his limit. Looked so tense, so pissed. She wasn’t scared of him—he’d never lay a finger on her, of that she was dead certain—but she didn’t want to add to his anger. Besides, he was right to be mad, and she knew it. She should have said something to him a long time ago, but her mouth had remained stubbornly closed. Out of fear, out of uneasiness because even if she hated to admit it, she’d come to depend on him a lot, on the strength his presence infused in her. The last thing she wanted was to lay more burdens on him, or heaven forbid, come across as a drag, too needy or clingy. She knew how that one had played out last time.

She finished her shower and dressed hastily, half afraid he’d left. But he hadn’t; she found him already dressed and sitting on a chair, tapping on the table, on edge but still there. She felt so relieved a wave of tenderness and gratitude washed over her, leaving her breathless.

“You’re still here,” she mumbled.

His stormy eyes locked on hers. “For fuck’s sake, Tate! Of course I’m here. What did you think, that I’d walk out on you?” His accusatory tone made her feel ashamed. Shit, she’d gotten him furious again. She should have known James wouldn’t scare easily. Tate shook her head and averted her eyes.

She went to him, sat on his lap, and gently caressed his shoulders. It felt like petting a wild tiger. He looked so highly strung and hurt it broke her heart. For the longest time, no one said anything.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you in the dark,” she whispered. “Please don’t make a big deal out of it. I didn’t tell you because I thought it wasn’t that important. Please don’t be mad.” Not sure of her reception but not really caring either, she moved to kiss him. At first he didn’t reciprocate, but she continued brushing his lips with hers, taking small flicks with her tongue, and soon his own desire betrayed him. He roughly cupped the back of her head and forced her mouth open, kissing her deeply, his tongue ruthlessly thrusting in. He was making a point too; he was in charge. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against his hard chest, letting his warmth and strength soak into her, dying to reassure herself of his presence. He hadn’t walked out on her; he was pissed, true, but he was there.

“Who is this asshole, and why the fuck are you calling him Prince Charming?”

She lifted her shoulders. “Don’t know who he is. As far as the name goes, well, it just seemed ironically fitting.”

His face was tense; he didn’t find it funny. “How long has this been going on? And don’t even think of lying to me anymore. I want the truth, Tate. And I’ll get it, even if I have to tie you to the chair.”

She sighed and nodded. “It started a couple of months after the accident. First, I thought it was all a prank, but with the fire… The police never took it seriously, and I kind of did the same. I don’t even like thinking about the whole thing. Maybe the police were right and the fire was an accident. This could all be just a nasty coincidence.”

He let out a harsh groan. “You’re deluding yourself.”

“Yes, I know, but things haven’t been easy on me. Taking those threats seriously is too much for me to deal with.”

James ran a hand through his hair and spat a curse. “You didn’t have to deal with that alone. I’d have been there for you, would have taken care of it, if only you’d have let me.”

She bit her lower lip and told him the truth. “I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. You aren’t responsible for me.”

He grabbed her by her shoulders, looking ready to strangle her. “You haven’t gotten the dynamics of our relationship down yet, have you? Let me explain it to you: we’re involved, very involved. You’re mine, and your problems are also mine. No one messes with what belongs to me. Don’t fight me on that, because you’ll lose, baby. And be aware next time you hide something like that from me, I’ll turn you over my knee and spank your ass red. Do we understand each other?”

She nodded, stunned into silence. Shivers raked her body. She did like hearing she belonged to him; she’d never belonged to anybody before.

“Good. Now, are you positive you don’t know who this Prince Charming could be? The owner of Old Vito?”

She shook her head. “No, not his style. He’s a much more direct person, preferring to intimidate straight up front. Old school, you know. E-mailing me to death strikes me as too modern for the likes of him.”

He scowled her. “This is serious, princess. Have you tried to change e-mails?”

“It’s Rosita’s address. We do quite a lot of business through the Net, especially group bookings. I can’t close it down.” She’d tried to block his address, but the bastard kept changing it.

“You can’t ignore this. The messages are full of rage, very personal—the fucker knows you. What about Clint?”

She rolled her eyes. “No way. Besides, what would he gain from hurting me or the restaurant?”

“Never underestimate the power of a wounded ego, princess. Aidan?”

“Aidan dumped me, not the other way around,” she said, sinking her fingers into his hair, luxuriating in the way it felt around her fingers.

“The asshole dumped you while you had a stalker after you? Or didn’t you tell him about it?”

James was such a protective man; of course he couldn’t understand how a guy could leave any woman to fend for herself, even if she were more than capable of taking care of herself. It was in his DNA, part of what he was. “I told him, but Aidan was too busy with his own life, and those e-mails weren’t on his priority list. He said I should just cut my losses and sell the place.”

“You told him, yet you didn’t tell me.” The accusation was clear, and she took immediate affront of it.