Polished Slick (Natural Beauty) (8 page)

Yeah, she’d need a little courage. “Sure, I’d love one. Give me whatever’s cold.”

“Yup.” Juan shuffled over to the adjoining kitchen in his sock-feet.

Jason immediately claimed the vacated seat and said, “Get me one too while you’re up, will you, Juan?”

Juan mumbled something guttural and Spanish.

Already bored by the newcomer, most of the gamers turned back to the television screen, and someone picked up a controller and restarted it.

It was some sort of stalker/hunting game as far as Trinity could tell, and all the gunfire and flashing explosives on the screen were making her feel a bit nauseous. The sound was enough to do her in, but those masochists were staring at the screen straight on. The earplugs made good sense.

Screw being one of the boys. She’d probably throw up if she had to focus on that screen for more than fifteen seconds.

Juan held a longneck beer bottle out to her. “That’ll put a little hair on your chest,” he said with a laugh. He shuffled across the living room again, carrying two more beers, and dumped Jason unceremoniously from his chair. “I’m the master of the plaid chair,” Juan said in jest. “When you been coming as long as me, you can pick whatever spot you want. Long as it’s not this one.”

Jason grumbled, but reclaimed the spot he’d previously been warming near the air conditioner box.

Trinity stood there dumbly, just sipping. Watching. She was completely uncertain of what to do. Have a seat, maybe, and try to avoid staring at the television screen?

No, they’d wonder why she was there at all.

Jerry handed his controller to Jason, and abandoned his spot on the sofa end. He passed Trinity at the archway between the open area and the kitchen, and gave her his usual condescending grin. “Surprised to see you here, Trinity.” He de-capped a dark beer and brought it to his lips.

The look on his face wasn’t altogether hostile, but it wasn’t one she wanted to wake up next to every morning, either.

If he was going to stare, she was going to give as good as she got, so she stared back, assessing the man in front of her.

He’d changed out of his casual work clothes into even more casual attire: a bleach-splotched black concert T-shirt for a band she didn’t recognize, and baggy basketball shorts he wore low on his hips.

Just how far up did those crashing wave tattoos go? To his thighs? Beyond?

She sucked in some air and turned away, crossing her eyes at the television screen.

The man obviously got out. One didn’t get those calves from sitting in front of a computer all the time.

Jerry cleared his throat.

“Hmm?” She wouldn’t turn. Nope.

“Is there a game you want to try perhaps? Or are you here to gaze upon my splendor?”

Trinity’s jaw dropped, but fortunately he couldn’t see it. “I…”

“I’m just fucking with you. What’s up?”

Her eyes closed, and she willed the burning of her cheeks to recede so she could face the jerk. When her rampant pulse simmered down, and she could hear things other than her heartbeat in her ears, she faced him and tried for an impassive expression. “Look, I’ll be candid. I wanted to watch the feed from the N-by-N cameras. I don’t have the software.”

“Oh, I see.” He took another swig of his beer, and cocked one eyebrow up. “I’m feeling a bit used, Trinity.”

She shrugged, and hoped it looked nonchalant. “Sorry. I figured someone should have eyeballs on the screen so we can call the police and Charlie if anyone unauthorized steps into the building.”

“Well, it’s really not necessary. I’ve got a motion alarm set up on the feed so if anything in the barn moves, the program will beep on both Nikki’s computer and mine. But if you want to watch…”

“I do.”

He gestured to a door beyond the kitchen. “Bedroom. Make yourself at home.”

She didn’t hesitate. She was desperate to get out of the man’s field of gravity.

He was like a planet with a goddamned molten core, and she was a big magnet trying not to get pulled into its atmosphere.

Why hadn’t she felt that way around him before? Surely, her condition hadn’t been brought on simply by the way he wore a pair of baggy shorts…or the way his moistened lips looked after a sip of beer.

She shook off the thoughts, imagining a duck shaking off water, and let the bedroom door behind her close with a whisper.

She patted the wood paneling of the walls until she found the light switch, and toggled on the overhead ceiling fan. The room now illuminated, she stood there in the corner, assessing the small bedroom.

Well, it was more office than bedroom. Installed in the corner opposite her was a custom L-shaped desktop mounted to the walls with brackets. The desk bore a sophisticated-looking computing set-up featuring two large flat-screen monitors—one on either side of the L—a wireless mouse, a dock for Jerry’s laptop, the aforementioned laptop which was already booted up, some sort of electronic pad with stylus, and the requisite slick speakers men seemed to always geek over.

She plopped into his leather desk chair and spun around, now assessing the double bed pushed against the wall. It was covered with a simple ocean blue spread, and ornamented by two pillows exactly.

Utilitarian.

They did at least seem to be good quality. Not those flat, disk-like things so old they needed either replacing or exorcism.

The only other furniture besides the desk set-up and bed was a nightstand positioned between those two, and a couple of bookcases near the door. Unable to squelch her curiosity, she rolled the chair over and jiggled the nightstand drawer open. Brazenly, she rooted through the accumulation, finding various computer cords, an open box of condoms—plain latex and size
ahem
, at which Trinity’s face burned—and at the bottom of all that was some sort of leather-bound portfolio.

She slid her fingers into the drawer and wedged the volume up, dumping off all the wires atop it.

Pulling the heavy book onto her lap, she lifted the sturdy cover to reveal the first page.

“Whoa. Didn’t expect that.”

This must have been Jerry’s modeling portfolio.

Her gaze went to the door, and she listened carefully for the sound of approaching footsteps. There were none. Best she could tell, the men were transfixed.

She swallowed, and turned her stare back to the photos. The collection opened with an image of Jerry of about twenty with far less interesting hair, few piercings, and only one small visible tattoo. It was a generic, inoffensive catalog shot in which he wore the sort of swim trucks a mother would buy for a teenaged son.

Next were wetsuits.

Then came casual wear.

Further and further into the portfolio she went, and the photos became less studio, and more artistic.

In fact, she wasn’t actually sure if they were ads selling anything at all.

“Oh my.” Hot blood surged from her heart to her neck and cheeks, and a wave of dizziness made her vision blur.

She picked up a nearby software manual and fanned herself.

“Oh my God.”

On the third to last page, Jerry of around age twenty-five with almost all his current piercings and the start of his head of dreads lay on his back on a surfboard beneath a cloudy sky. He wore nothing but a teeny pair of swim briefs, showing off the cut of his obliques and hinting at…other things. Apparently the wave tattoos ended at mid-thigh. She swallowed. “Good to know.”

The next page was Jerry, nude—or at least
simulating
nudity—flanked by two bikini models whom had their backs to the camera. Their hands shielded his scandalous bits.

Trinity’s mouth went dry as desert sand, and she forced herself to swallow with great difficulty.

The ad may have been for bikinis, but who the hell was paying attention to them with Jerry in the shot?

She slammed the album shut, not wanting to see what was on the last sheet. If it were hotter than the photo before, she’d have to change her underwear.

She shoved the book back into its place, piled the cords and condoms back where she thought they originated, and slammed the drawer shut.

When Jerry poked his head in, Trinity had the laptop awake from its slumber and a hand atop the mouse.

“Anything interesting?” he asked.

Blood pounded in her ears. Had he found her out just like that? Maybe she had a naturally suspicious look about her. “Um…”

“It’s boring, right? Told you so. Why don’t you come on out and have some pizza with us?”

Pizza sounded good, but she wasn’t sure she could get her fingers to work in the required fashion to get it to her mouth, much less swallow it after what she saw.

Holy hell. Ho. Lee. Hell.

She shook her head, still looking at the computer monitor without actually
seeing
anything besides stars. “Um, thanks. I had a big salad before I came over. And the beer is filling, you know.”

“Salad and granola bars. You on a diet?”

That did it. A beacon in the fog. A trigger. She whipped around in the chair and scowled. “You think I need one?”

Jerry was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing a smile she couldn’t parse.

“No, I think you probably need the pizza.”

“I eat.”

“Right.” He shut the door.

She forced out a long exhale, and turned back around. She finished the beer and it made her feel a bit less sprung, not that she had much experience with that, but she
assumed
that’s what the feeling was. She’d never been a woman who gave into carnal desires, and hadn’t planned on igniting that downward spiral anytime soon. The last thing she needed in her life was more distractions.

“Keep your eyes on the prize. This is about work.”

Said aloud, the idea was fucking ridiculous, even to her.

She’d always been so good at compartmentalizing, but now that Jerry was on her radar screen, she might have to work actively at ignoring his little blip.

He made a damned sexy little blip.

CHAPTER SIX

“Guys are gone.” Jerry pushed the bedroom door open to find Trinity still slumped in his chair, this time wearing his headphones and staring intently at one of his monitors.

Half asleep, she spun slowly to face him, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn. She had a pile of his real estate listings on her lap, which she quickly discarded. “I didn’t notice the living room had gone quiet,” she said.

“So, how have you been entertaining yourself these past couple of hours?” He eased around the bed corner and handed her an uncapped beer.

She took a small sip before setting the bottle on the desk. “Well, I played a bunch of solitaire, and when that got boring I…” Her cheeks reddened. “I noticed the MLS listings, so I pulled them up online for a closer look.”

“Oh.” He sat on the bed and leaned back against his pillows, crossing his legs at the ankles. Felt good to be horizontal after the day he’d had. “That fun for you?”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t say
fun
. More like interesting. I guess I’m a bit of a voyeur.” She tapped the stack of papers. “I recognized some of the houses, knew the people who lived in them…at least
used
to. I was curious about what they looked like inside.”

“Ah.”

“Are you moving?” Trinity furrowed her brow.

“One way or another. This is a less than ideal situation. Did you think I
wanted
to live in a trailer in my parents’ side yard for the rest of my life?”

Her eyes made big O’s.

Ah, she
had
thought that. He chuckled.

“Well, I…I dunno. Why
do
you live in a trailer in your parents’ side yard? Why not in the house?”

He picked at the peeling label of his beer bottle with his thumbnail. “Let’s just say my mother doesn’t agree with my lifestyle choices.”

“Which are?”

He cut his eyes toward the blushing blonde and gave her his
Nuh-uh
smile.

She got the hint, and put her hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

If she’d asked a specific question, he might have answered, but he didn’t like being the quarry in a fishing expedition.

“Well, what about your dad?”

That
he could answer. “We try to keep Dad out of most of our little squabbles. Besides, he’s rarely home. She takes the lady of the house thing far too seriously in my opinion.”

“Sounds like there’s lots of love between the two of you.”

He shrugged. “Plenty of love lost, truth be told. Whenever I fuck up spectacularly, she’s quick to tell people I was adopted.”

Her jaw dropped, and this time instead of her cheeks coloring, they paled.

He grinned. He liked seeing her speechless, and briefly he considered a couple of other ways to knock the words out of her mouth. Then he remembered how damned young she was. Not jailbait by any stretch, but inexperienced in life. She needed a bit of growing up. A reality check at the very least.

“Don’t pity me,” he said. “I wasn’t some lost kid that got taken in by a rich guy and his barren wife. Well, not
exactly
. My Dad is my actual biological father.”

“And your real mother?”

He put his empty beer bottle on the nightstand and sat up a bit against his pillow. “Don’t know. That’s why I’m so damned good at tracking people down. Just ask Nikki. I’ve had a lot of practice at it. All I know, or rather, all my parents have
told
me, was that I was born in Belgium when my father was working overseas, my birthmother disappeared, and my father brought me to the US. Sounds shady as shit to me, but hey—people keep secrets all the time. I suspect my mother was a whore and my father won’t admit it.”

There went that look of shock again. Now he laughed outright, and put his legs over the side of the bed to stand. “I’m fucking with you, Trinity. Really, though, I think I’ve worked out who my mother might be, but I haven’t had enough evidence to confirm my guess. Besides, I’m not sure she’d be interested in hearing from me after all this time.”

“Well, why wouldn’t she be? I would want to know if a child I gave up was thriving.”