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  He was not grinning when I was done talking.

  He was looking at me in a way that made that pulse beat someplace awesome.

  Then his head dropped and he was kissing me. Not hard and closed mouthed. Not slow and sweet.

  Rough and hungry and claiming.

  And after he kissed me rough and hungry and claiming, Jacob did other things to me that were rough and hungry and claiming.

  And I came while he was doing them.

  Repeatedly.

  Chapter Ten

  Sour in My Gut

  Deck put the bowl of food on the floor and Buford stuck his nose in it immediately.

  He rose and turned to face the kitchen, seeing Emme, hair wet and pulled back in a wide band, his t-shirt on, no panties (he’d copped a feel after dressing and following her there and made this phenomenal discovery), makeup half on, shoveling oatmeal in her mouth and sipping coffee, doing all this in a hurry.

  Deck moved to his own bowl of oatmeal that she’d made him as Emme slugged back some joe, looked down at Buford and addressed a dog with a fresh bowl of food thus a dog who forgot she existed in this world.

  “You need to tamp down your instincts to hunt, puppy, so you can come to my house because the drive to work from my house is fifteen minutes and the drive from here is twenty-five and I don’t like getting up early so I’m not a big fan of getting up earlier.”

  “Emme, it’s ten minutes,” Deck pointed out.

  Her eyes sliced to him, her head tipped and her brows went up. “Morning sex?”

  He grinned. “Okay, forty-five minutes.”

  “Right,” she muttered tetchily as the phone in her purse on the counter opposite him rang.

  She glared at it and walked there.

  Deck’s grin turned into a smile.

  Apparently, the orgasms he gave her half an hour ago wore off.

  She put down her mug, pulled out her phone, looked at the display and Deck’s gut clenched when her face lit up.

  Fuck, she was gorgeous.

  She put the phone to her ear and chirped, “Hi, Dad!”

  His gut clenched again, but a different way.

  This time it was just plain fuck.

  Her face grew confused so this time he verbalized in a mutter his, “Fuck.”

  She didn’t hear him. She was listening to her dad.

  He knew what she was hearing.

  He forgot, when he was putting the finishing touches on the case, and McFarland was definitely going down, he’d called Emme’s dad, Barry Holmes. This was before he knew Kenton Douglas had gone to Emme to question her and get back the ring.

  He meant to tell her.

  In all that happened, he did not.

  Her eyes cut to him and they narrowed.

  He repeated, “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, Dad, I know but—”

  She was obviously cut off. Two seconds later, her jaw got tight.

  Deck sighed.

  He knew Barry. He’d spent time with him at some of Emme’s dinner parties. He and Elsbeth had also been invited to their home for their annual Christmas party four years running and they never missed it. Now he knew he never missed it because it was a chance to see Emme. Then he just thought it was because he liked and admired Barry Holmes.

  The man came from money, was given it and still, he worked for it. He was funny, shrewd, hardworking, honest, and he loved his family.

  He made a mint but when his kids went to college, Barry paid room and board but his kids were responsible for tuition no matter how they had to go about that. Getting jobs, working for scholarships, applying for grants. It wasn’t heartless or miserly. He gave them their tuition back in full as a graduation present. He just made sure they worked for their education so it meant something to them.

  They all did.

  Elsbeth thought Barry was too hard on his kids.

  Deck never agreed.

  This was because he reckoned he’d do the same with his kids if one day he had the money but didn’t want them to grow up feeling entitled to it, like Elsbeth often demonstrated she felt.

  But also because, with his kids, there was nothing hard about Barry Holmes. He might want to teach them life lessons and they might not be easy, but he often told them he loved them, shared wide and in their presence he was proud of them, and the family was close.

  And last, even though he could afford country clubs and sprawling estates, his home was nice, large, well decorated, but it was warm and welcoming and not much more than a family of six needed. Just a solid, attractive, family home for him, his wife, two boys and two girls, a brood where Emme was the youngest.

  Talking to Barry days ago, he’d called up the fact that losing Elsbeth had meant losing Emme and that had meant losing Barry, his wife, Maeve, and Emme’s loving but far-flung siblings (a sister in India, a brother in New Zealand and her other brother lived in Boston). All who, however far-flung, often came home to visit.

  It hadn’t sucked as much as losing Emmanuelle. But it sucked.

  “No, I’m not there because I’m, um… um…” Emme’s words brought his attention back to her. “Staying with Jacob.” Her eyes were big, pained, totally pissed and still on him. “Yes. Jacob Decker.” Pause then, “He’s… well, sure. He’s right here. We’re eating oatmeal.”

  She made her eyes even bigger at him and if looks could kill, he’d be fucked.

  Then again, he was in danger of choking on the laughter he was swallowing.

  “Sure, right, he’s eating,” she said as she made her way to him. “But he can talk.” She stopped two feet away. “Yeah.” Pause. “Okay.” Pause, then softer, “Love you too, Dad.”

  The soft went out of her face when she took the phone from her ear and extended it to him.

  “He wants to talk to you. And after you’re done, I’ll want to talk to you too.”

  He reckoned so.

  He fought back a grin but felt his lips twitch. They twitched more when her eyes narrowed on them.

  He took the phone and put it to his ear.

  “Mr. Holmes?”

  “Barry. Barry. Son, for years, been telling you to call me Barry.”

  Emme was pissed.

  Barry Holmes sounded like he just won the lottery.

  “Right. Barry,” he felt Emme’s eyes sharp on him at his familiarity with her father which was obviously invited, “what can I do for you?”

  “Just to say, going into the office to get things started. I’ll be staying today, just in case. When’s that bond hearing you were talking about?”

  He had explained to Barry what was happening, had been relatively forthcoming and asked him to come up to deal with McFarland should he be bonded out and head to work or even call in.

  He did this because Deck needed that man far away from Emme. And that included him getting him suspended from work.

  Barry had explained he had all employees sign contracts and he also had extensive employee handbooks. Barry then shared that an employee could be suspended pending investigation or fired outright should they engage in criminal acts, either on or off the job.

  So McFarland was fucked.

  But Barry was going to handle that particular fucking.

  Emme was having nothing to do with it.

  “Ten o’clock,” he answered.

  “Good, good,” Barry replied. “I’ll have a natter with the boys, look around, visit with my baby girl and wait for your call.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Deck agreed.

  “Now, before you go, I’m standin’ outside this money pit my girl bought and lookin’ at a big pile of insulation tied under a tarp at the side of her house. Did my Emme get that sorted, do you know?” he asked a question he was not asking.

  He wanted to know if Deck, suddenly very in Emme’s life, sorted that for his girl.

  “Me and some of my boys saw to that yesterday, Barry.”

  Mental spears pierced his skin. He looked to Emme then quickly looked back to his feet in an effort to
hide his smile.

  Definitely pissed.

  “Son, I cannot tell you, she bought this place, so excited, ‘Dad, Dad! You gotta come up and see!’ I came up and saw. Nearly had a heart attack.”

  Deck kept smiling at his feet.

  Barry kept talking.

  “Her mother and I bought that boiler for her, scared as shit the one she had would blow sky high. Tried to pay for the electrical work, she refused it, cleaned out her accounts to do it. I told her insulation was next. She renovated the master bath. I told her insulation was next. She renovated the master. You’ve been here. You see where I’m going with this. Offered to have it put in, she says, ‘Dad, it’s my house. I’ll see to it.’ Told her she might as well build a fire in one of her five thousand fireplaces and throw her money in it, not having insulation. Two months ago, she calls me and asks, ‘Dad, can you come up and help me get the chandelier in the front room down?’ Chandeliers!” he yelled. “She’s cleaning chandeliers before putting in insulation? I gave up. I’m glad you got her to see the light. Now we just gotta work on her getting these windows fixed.”

  “She’s getting bids for those, Barry.”

  “Hallelujah!” Barry shouted.

  Deck bit his lip to stop from laughing.

  “I’m glad you think this is funny,” he heard Emme hiss.

  His eyes came up from his feet, his hand covered the phone and he whispered, “Baby.”

  She stomped out.

  He went back to the phone because Barry was speaking but he did it with his eyes on the backs of Emme’s legs exposed under his tee from mid-thigh down.

  “Now, Jacob, I’m seeing you can make my girl see sense. You get those bids, you talk her into letting her mother and me pay for those windows. She balks, get her to accept half. She balks at that, she’s getting a big bonus for doing a good job at the yard, seeing as she actually does a good job at that yard just like I thought she would, but that bonus is gonna be whatever you tell me those bids say. You hear?”

  The only people in his life who called him Jacob were his mother, Barry, Maeve and Emmanuelle Holmes, the last three because he allowed it and liked it. The first one because he had no choice but he still liked it.

  He was Deck.

  Everyone called him Deck.

  This was because his father nicknamed him Deck when he was a kid, starting so young, Deck never knew anything but, and his dad, then others, never called him anything else.

  He liked the nickname.

  But he loved his dad.

  Therefore the only time he got sharp with Elsbeth was when she once called him Jacob. He shut that shit down the minute it started. It hurt, she showed it, and she gave him that look every time she heard him allow Emme to use his given name.

  But he didn’t care.

  Fuck, he had a 150 IQ and he still was a dumb fuck.

  “Barry, I’m thinkin’ that Emme likes to do things on her own. I’m also thinkin’, since a lot of shit has gone down the last coupla days and I forgot to tell her I phoned you, I got an angry woman on my hands. So, we’ll talk about the window bids later. Yeah?” he asked.

  There was silence then, “Son, you best get on that. Emme’s her own girl, always has been. So when she gets irked, things can get iffy. Then again, she’s always had a soft spot for you so you’ll be all right.”

  The call to Barry days ago had included Barry being surprised as well as delighted not only to hear from Deck but also to know Deck had reconnected with his daughter. Though, he hadn’t been delighted at what Deck had told him and Deck hadn’t shared how he, at the time and accomplishing this since, intended to connect with his daughter.

  “I hope you’re right but I best get on that,” Deck replied.

  “Right. I’ll let you do that, just one more thing,” Barry said.

  “Yeah?” Deck prompted when he didn’t give Deck that one more thing.

  “I know this question might seem strange but I’m a father, far’s I know you’re not, but if or when you are, you’ll understand me. She’s there first thing in the morning. I’m here with the insulation you pulled out of her house. Does this mean good things?”

  Deck knew what he was asking.

  “By good things do you mean am I seeing your daughter?” Deck got to the point.

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” Barry answered.

  It wasn’t strange but it was nosy.

  He shouldn’t answer, but a man whose daughter was kidnapped when she was a child and now what was swirling around her, he felt should have his mind put at ease.

  “I don’t find that strange and in normal circumstances that should come from Emme. Since you asked and with what’s goin’ on, you should know she’s covered, as in safe, as in I intend to keep her that way. And I intend to do that ’cause she’s Emme and I’ve always had a soft spot for her but also because I’m seein’ your daughter.”

  “Hallelujah,” he breathed.

  At least he had Barry Holmes’s approval.

  He still had a pissed Emme on his hands.

  “Means a lot, Barry, that’s your response. No joke,” Deck told him. “But I really gotta go.”

  “Right. Right. See you in a bit.”

  “You will. Later, Barry.”

  “Later, Jacob.”

  He disconnected and put Emme’s phone by her purse. In an effort to give her time to burn at least a little of it out, he picked up his oatmeal but his eyes went to his dog who was sitting on his ass, having wolfed down his food, and he was staring up at Deck.

  “Go in and butter her up for me, will you, pal?” he asked between bites of oatmeal.

  His dog ambled out, headed in the direction of the master. Deck wanted to believe his hound was smart enough to understand him, but it was more likely he was on the trail of strawberries.

  Deck finished his breakfast, ran water in the bowl but left it in the sink, got a cup of coffee and belatedly followed Buford.

  He heard a hair dryer, saw his dog on the bed, eyes aimed to the door of the bathroom and he found his girl in the bathroom wearing nothing but jeans and bra, torso bent over, ass his way, drying the back of her hair.

  Deck settled in with a shoulder to the jamb of the door, sipped his coffee and enjoyed the view.

  The view turned more spectacular when she flipped her hair back. It got even better when he saw the sexy, lacy white bra she was wearing.

  Her eyes caught his in the mirror and flashed.

  He pressed his lips together.

  She aimed her angry eyes at herself in the mirror and kept drying her hair.

  Deck didn’t move.

  He’d discovered, you pay attention and a goodly amount of it, every day you could learn something. You watched how birds flew, expressions on faces, traffic flow.

  And how women got ready and went out to face the day.

  Emme now had on full makeup and it looked good on her. Fucking good.

  It wasn’t like back when he knew her before that she didn’t wear it. She just wore enough she had a mask on to go out. Emme was all about the mask, and makeup was just part of it. But it was clearly something she did as habit. Not something she enjoyed.

  As with a lot of things about her, that changed. Her makeup wasn’t heavier, as such, though there was more of it. But it was far more expertly applied, like she gave shit, not like she had to do it and get it done with.

  Same with her hair, which was not only a fuck of a lot longer and had highlights, but had a healthy sheen it didn’t have before.

  She also now didn’t wear a perfume that was a floral scent that was nice enough, though a little overwhelming, like she used to wear. Her old perfume was a perfume for women to like. Not one that would lure a man. The smell and the amount she used was likely another unconscious indication she wanted people to stay back.

  Now her perfume was far more understated. You had to get close to smell it. It was still floral but more mellow and musky.

  It was a perfume a woman might like but
a man definitely would.

  Until he saw her on the street just days ago, he didn’t give one fuck what it said about him that he liked his women to take care of themselves. Unshaved legs, visible roots, unkempt eyebrows and a thrown-together outfit was a massive turnoff.

  The truth of the matter was, the more high maintenance, the better.

  It wasn’t about perfectly toned bodies. It was a demonstration they gave a shit, not just for him, for them. They had the confidence and energy to trick themselves out and make an impression, even if it only made them feel good. No, especially if it seemed they did it for themselves, because they liked it, because they got off on it, and it wasn’t about attracting a man.

  He thought that was sexy as hell.

  The last few days, he’d struggled with the fact that it was not lost on him that Emme not doing this years ago meant he didn’t see deeper what she had to offer nor did he feel how they’d connected. He’d lost time, they both had, because he was young and shallow, blinded by Elsbeth having that without having what was more important.

  That said, he sure as fuck wasn’t complaining that Emme now had it all.

  The dryer went off and she immediately yanked out the plug, turned and dumped it into her overnight bag that was sitting on the floor behind her.

  “Babe—” he started, and she whipped around, her hair flying with her and again it was a spectacular show.

  “You know, I’ve had two guys before you. Just two,” she announced.

  Her eyes on him were flashing fire. Her words making him war between elation that that number was so low and meant even at their ages he had a shot at giving her a lot of good shit she’d not yet had, and distress that all that was Emme was wasted so long and his girl had spent so much time alone.

  She went on.

  “And neither of them lasted long so I really don’t know how to do this relationship stuff. I don’t have a lot of practice since obviously neither of those went the distance or, really, any distance.”