Seizing Mack: A Contemporary Love Story (Covendale Book 3) Page 14

  Nick squinted at the calligraphic lettering, but couldn’t quite make it out. “What does it say?”

  “Ad te ipso verum est. It’s Latin for ‘to thine own self be true’.”

  Nick nodded. “Go on.”

  “So then she said she wanted to come here. I’ve never been in here before but it has a rep for being popular among the armed forces crowd, so I thought she’d be comfortable here, you know?” Jay reached around and put his hand on the back of his neck. “As you can see, it worked.”

  Nick snorted. Understatement of the year, that.

  “Thanks for coming, man.”

  “No problem,” Nick said. When Jay had called earlier and said Mack needed some help, he’d been in the car and on his way before he’d even hung up. He’d never expected this, though. “Did you know she could do this?”

  Jay nodded and drank deeply from his beer. “There’s not a stripper in the tri-state area that doesn’t come to Mack’s Booty Camp to get sculpted and into shape.”

  “Mack’s Booty Camp?”

  “Yeah. I came up with the name. Anyway, the dancers, they love her, teach her all the best moves. She practices at the house, says it’s like plyometrics, gymnastics, and dance cardio all in one. Never in public, though. She’s too self-conscious for that.”

  Nick looked doubtfully at the stage. That sure as hell didn’t look like a woman who had a problem with confidence.

  “What did you do to her?” Nick asked. His eyes moved reluctantly away from the stage, taking in the riled-up group of military guys looking hungrily at Mack. That wave of possessiveness started rising up again, and things were going to get real ugly if he didn’t do something soon.

  “Me? I didn’t do anything. I just bought her a few beers. They —” he pointed over toward a table of guys wearing Army tees “– started buying her shots a couple of hours ago.” Jay was silent for a couple of moments, then said, “Listen, I’m not sure I did the right thing in calling you. Mack is probably going to flip her shit, so if you want to bail, believe me, I understand.”

  “Not a chance,” Nick told him firmly.

  Jay nodded in approval. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, man.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, not even bothering to deny it. “How’s that?”

  “Like she’s the one you’ve been waiting for to start living again.”

  Nick smiled, only slightly surprised that Jay had done his homework. Mack was a lucky woman. Everyone should have such fierce friends looking out for them. “You’d make a hell of a detective, Jay. Give me a call if that modelling thing doesn’t work out.”

  Jay laughed. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Does Mack know?”

  Jay’s smile faded. “Oh hell, no. Head in the sand, that one. Plus she’s in denial, convinced she’s undesirable.”

  Nick choked. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Wish I was. The step-devils must have really done a number on her, and let’s face it, most men are intimidated by her awesomeness. Not you, though. I know a man smitten when I see one. And newsflash? Mack murmurs your name in her sleep.”

  Well, damn. Nick felt like puffing out his chest and giving it a few solid pounds with alternating fists. “So what’s the plan?”

  Jay smiled, as if he sensed the surge in Nick’ testosterone levels. “Flash that badge and go get your woman. I’ve got your back.”

  That sounded like a hell of a plan. Nick made his way over to the edge where Mack was dancing, oblivious to everything except internalizing the rhythm and spirit of Poison’s “Unskinny Bop”. She looked so damn sexy doing it, too, that he almost let her finish. The problem was, every other male was seeing it, too, and he wanted a private viewing.

  It wasn’t any of their names she murmured in her sleep.

  He reached up and plucked her from the stage, resulting in an instant chorus of boos. Nick didn’t hear any of it; he was too preoccupied with the feel of Mack’s hot little body tucked into his chest.

  It took Mack a few seconds to realize what had happened.

  “What the hell, soldier?” she asked, slurring her words slightly as she slid down his body. Her eyes squinted as her head tilted upward toward his face. Her flirty smile faded, turned into genuine confusion. “Nick? What are you doing here?”

  “Taking you home.”

  Her bemusement darkened and she tried to push him away. “Like hell. I’m having fun.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “No wonder you made detective,” she snickered. “Nothing gets past you.” She tried to take a step back and swayed precariously. Thankfully, Jay was there to catch her. “Oh, hey Jay.”

  “Hey, baby girl.” He draped her shirt — the one she’d whipped over her head like a lasso and tossed out to the crowd earlier — over her shoulders.

  “Did you call him?” she demanded. Jay nodded. She pinned him with a glare, one that probably would have been far more intimidating if she hadn’t been swaying as she did so.

  “Come on, Mack. Let’s go,” Nick said in a low but firm voice as he held on to her arm, wanting to get her out of there before shit really hit the fan. The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling from all of the unhappy looks he was getting from her new admirers.

  Mack turned back to Nick, fixing him with her haughty glare. Arousal fired in his veins. She was so unlike any woman he had ever met. Even sloppy drunk and mouthing off she was beautiful.

  “Are you arresting me, Detective?” she sneered. “ʼCause that is the only way I’ll ever leave a bar with you.”

  Arresting her hadn’t been his intention, but he could see the merits of the idea. He glanced over her head toward the table of pissed off men now standing, their unhappy eyes focused on him. They were just about to head their way and he was pretty sure it wasn’t to buy him a beer.

  “So be it.” He deftly turned Mack around, pulling both wrists together in one of his large hands as he reached for his cuffs and mechanically began to recite her Miranda rights.

  “Jesus,” Jay breathed his eyes widening. “Is that really necessary?”

  “You can’t arrest me!” she spat at him.

  “Watch me.” One hand pushed against the center of her back, leading her toward the exit.

  “What are the charges?” She wriggled in his grasp, trying to use her weight against him. Since he easily had a hundred pounds on her (and wasn’t three sheets to the wind), her attempts to escape weren’t very effective. It didn’t stop her from bringing up her knee in a thrust toward his groin. Nick twisted to the side in time to save his manly bits, which only seemed to piss her off more. She brought her foot up and stomped on his instep — hard — then followed up with an attempted head butt (which he mostly deflected).

  Nick winced slightly and clenched his teeth. “Let’s start with assaulting a police officer and go from there.”

  The flash of his badge was probably the only thing that kept the angry mob from beating his ass, but he didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until Mack was ensconced safely in the back of his car. When he shut the door, she leaned back on the seat and gave it a good solid kick with both feet, hard enough to rock the whole vehicle.

  “Don’t make me taser you,” he warned menacingly. She glared at him, all messy and fired up, cheeks flushed and eyes blazing. Another bolt of lust shot through him. He couldn’t help but wonder what that kind of passion would be like if unleashed under other, more appropriate, circumstances. He could almost feel her phantom nails clawing at his back while her powerful thighs wrapped around his hips and she squeezed him with her tight —

  “Want me to ride along?” Jay asked, glancing in the back window where Mack was now struggling to sit up and unleashing a torrent of scorching curses, all centered upon exactly what she thought Nick could do with his taser. What she would do with it the moment he let his guard down.

  “No,” Nick exhaled. “I’ve got this.”

  “You are either a really brave man or a batshit crazy one.�
��

  “Probably a bit of both,” Nick said with a wry smile. Hell, he had to be insane to be thinking the kinds of things he was thinking. The woman was testing every one of his limits and he liked it. “Besides. I don’t think she’s very happy with you right now, either.”

  Jay turned back to the car, saw the murderous look in her eyes and shuddered. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed heavily. “Yeah, good point. It’s probably best if she stays out of sight for a while. No need to add more fuel to the fire. Hey, take care of her, will you? She comes off all tough and whatnot, but this ...” He shook his head. “Mack doesn’t do this.”

  Nick met the other man’s eyes and nodded in silent acknowledgement. Jay turned and took a step toward his car, then paused and looked back over his shoulder uncertainly. Nick cast a glance at Mack, who was now looking out of the window in disbelief, her eyes wide with betrayal. “Jay! Don’t you leave me, Jay!”

  “You know what, Nick? Maybe you should drive my car back. I can take Mack—"

  “Go. She’ll be fine. I’ll take care of her, I promise.”

  Jay looked at him doubtfully. “You’re not really going to taser her, are you?”

  Nick’s lips twitched. That had been an empty threat. His plans for subduction did not include a taser. “No. Trust me on this, will you?”

  By the time Nick manage to convince Jay that Mack would be just fine and slid into the driver’s seat, Mack was no longer trying to kick the crap out of his car. She sat perfectly still, as far away from him as physically possible in the cramped space.

  “You are a dick,” she spit out, drilling holes in the back of his head.

  “Sticks and stones, luv,” he shot back, affecting his best Jack Sparrow impression as he eased out of the lot. “Seriously, Mack, what the hell were you thinking?”

  “What do you care?” He met her eyes in the rearview mirror. She averted them quickly, choosing instead to look out the window.

  An excellent question, that. One that he was pretty sure he knew the answer to, but now was not the best time to get into that, or to any of the other hundred or so things he didn’t understand. He just knew that his instincts told him he was doing the right thing. “I just do.”

  “Right. That’s why you never called.” The words were quiet, but he heard them.

  “I had to go out of town on an emergency. And for the record, I did text you. You never responded.”

  She snorted at that, then quieted down. The next time he chanced a glance back, her eyes were closed, her features relaxed in a deep, alcohol induced slumber. “Thank God,” he murmured.

  She never even flinched as he lifted her out of the car and tucked her against his chest. Nick carried her into his place and laid her out in his bed, removing the cuffs and massaging the angry red marks that had arisen where she’d struggled against them. He tugged off her boots and socks, too, smiling as he held her tiny feet in his hands. Her toes were painted a pretty silvery color, so cute.

  He tucked her under the covers and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Pleasant dreams, Heather,” he whispered.

  Chapter Thirty

  ~ Mack ~

  Mack woke up feeling as if an entire convoy of supply trucks had run over her. Twice. Her mouth was foul and dry; her tongue, thick and fuzzy. She looked around and had absolutely no idea where she was. It was a harsh reminder of exactly why she didn’t go clubbing more often.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when a brief self-inspection assured her she was still clothed, except for her boots and socks, which she located just inside the closed door. She sat up, waited for the room to stop spinning, and tried to reason it out.

  It was definitely a bedroom. Not hers. Not one she recognized. The walls were a neutral shade of cream; mocha colored panel drapes, thankfully closed, hung over the two windows. A Shaker-style dresser sat against the wall, a matching night table by the bed.

  The faint smell of a familiar aftershave hit her as her olfactory senses came back online. She turned her head into the pillow and sniffed, confirming her suspicions. Nick.

  Mack fell back onto the bed and groaned. What the hell was she doing in Nick’s bed? More importantly, where was he? Had her secret fantasies been realized and she’d missed it?

  Disjointed flashes of memory assaulted her pounding head: going to the bar, dancing, being held against Nick’ broad chest, getting arrested.... Her stomach clenched as she remembered some of the things she’d said to him.

  She groaned, wondering what had happened to her neat, orderly life. When, exactly, had she lost control? When Princess Dee arrived, a voice in the back of her head answered.

  Yes, Delilah was definitely a problem. She’d blown in and thrown Mack’s disciplined life into a form of chaos. But Mack couldn’t blame Dee for this. No, this was totally her own doing.

  In fact, none of it was Dee’s fault. Not really. Yes, Dee was a selfish, vindictive pain in the ass, but Mack was ultimately responsible for her own behavior. It was not Dee’s actions, but Mack’s reactions, that were the real issue. Allowing her stepsister to goad her into acting so out of character was on no one but herself.

  Lesson learned. Too bad she hadn’t figured that out before the charity gala, and definitely before she’d gone on a Cuervo-fueled bender.

  She listened for a while as she waited for her stomach to settle. The house was quiet, no sound of movement. When she got the courage to sit up again, she spotted the handwritten note propped up on the nightstand along with two white pills, a glass of orange juice, and her phone.

  Good morning, sleeping beauty. Take the pills and the juice, they’ll help. Feel free to use the shower and anything else you need. I’ll be back soon. Please don’t leave. - N

  Mack looked at his bold, male script and sighed. The urge to flee before he returned was strong, but she refrained. She’d made her bed, so to speak, and now it was time to lie in it (or in Nick’s, as the case was).

  She dutifully swallowed the pills and washed them down with the juice, which felt amazing against her throat. Then she picked up her phone, squinted through the blurriness, and fired off a text to Jay.

  Mack: Brutus.

  His response was immediate.

  Jay: Love you. You okay?

  Mack: Feel like roadkill.

  Jay: No surprise there. Let the good detective make it all better.

  Mack sighed. It was hard to be angry with Jay, even when he did something foolish, like try to play Cupid. His heart was in the right place. They were definitely going to have words about this later, though, including a long discussion on personal boundaries.

  Mack: Seize?

  Jay: Covered.

  Mack: You are a prince among men.

  Jay: I know.

  Swearing off tequila for the rest of her life, she went into the bathroom, pleased to find that the detective was a guy who valued cleanliness. Like the bedroom, the bathroom was done in neutrals and uncluttered, very much like her own.

  She turned the shower on full blast, waiting for the water to warm, then stripped and stepped in directly under the spray. Almost immediately, the pain in her head began to recede under the powerful jets and a strange, tingly sensation took its place.

  There was something surprisingly intimate about using a man’s shower. Of being surrounded with his scent as the steam billowed around her. Of sliding the bar of deodorant soap over her skin, knowing he had done the same.

  She closed her eyes, conjuring images of Nick, naked and wet in that very shower. A slow burn started deep in her core, helping to ease the discomfort of the morning along with the aspirin and the hot water. Her sensitive nipples pebbled as she ran her soapy hands over them, accompanied by an ache between her legs.

  Dare she?

  Biting her lip and feeling unnervingly needy, she gave into the sudden desire that gripped her. She stroked herself, letting the scene play out in her mind. The sensations built and crested quickly, far more quickly than in her own shower.

  Fe
eling only slightly guilty, Mack shut off the water and dried off with one of the huge, fluffy towels he’d been kind enough to leave for her. After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d fantasized about the handsome detective, though doing so in his shower had added fuel to the fire.

  She made use of his SpeedStick and finger combed her hair into relative submission. She debated using his toothbrush, too, but decided that was too personal and ultimately opted for a washcloth smeared with some Crest instead.

  Clean and relatively alert, Mack felt sufficiently recovered to face her rescuer. She lifted her clothes to her face and wrinkled her nose. What the hell, she thought, eyeing the clothes he’d left out, presumably for her. She’d slept in his bed, pleasured herself in his shower, and used his stuff. Why not wear his clothes, too?

  She grabbed the dark grey police academy T and drawstring sweats and pulled them on, taking a moment to inhale and appreciate the freshly laundered scent. She made the bed, then figuring she’d stalled long enough, padded down to the living room. A neatly folded blanket and pillow sat on the couch, answering her early question of where Nick had spent the night. She added “gentleman” to the growing list of things she liked about him.

  The man himself was nowhere to be found. A brief walk through the place confirmed that she was alone. She stopped in the kitchen, drawn by the scent of coffee, then settled in the living room to wait.

  She didn’t have to wait long. Soon Nick came in carrying two white plastic bags imprinted with the name of the local grocery store. He gave her a genuine (and relieved?) smile when he spotted her sitting there.

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t be here,” he confessed. “I didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t have anything suitable for breakfast.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Mack said, stunned by his thoughtfulness. Her voice was still rough and husky-sounding, thanks to the copious amounts of tequila she’d consumed the night before.

  “I wanted to. Feel up to eating something?”

  Surprisingly, she did. The aspirin and hot shower had done wonders. And, except for a bit of lingering embarrassment, she felt strangely at home in his place. “Yes, but only if you let me help.”