Chapter 7
Seven
GENEVIEVE
“ M r. King?—”
“Brendan.”
Genevieve had never been so turned on by a man’s words in her life. Mr. King had two sides—his sweet, adorable, shy side and his badass, hidden, superhero side. She hadn’t realized how attracted to bad boys she was. Only she didn’t really want a bad boy—she wanted a good boy or, rather, a good man with an edge.
“Are we getting close, Mr. King ?”
She smirked, deciding that she didn’t want him to hear his first name uttered from her lips until he was hers, and Genevieve was becoming increasingly confident that she wanted him. She loved the way he made her feel—alive, cherished, centered, invincible—she could go on and on with the emotions running through her with him by her side. He was unbelievable. Did he have any clue what a catch he was? Why on earth had no other woman gobbled him up? No way that was happening now. She’d take her competition down. But first, she had to free herself of Jed Marshall.
“Not going to call me Brendan? Is there a reason?”
Genevieve ignored his question along with his prodding about whether they could be a couple. She wanted a relationship with him but now wasn’t the time. And just like all her other desires in life, she didn’t want to get too attached to dreams that might not come true—that included potential life partners. She turned her head, staring out the passenger window at the grassy fields as they flew by.
“We’re almost there,” he said, relenting. So sweet . “About ten more miles, and we’ll check into a couple of motel rooms, then convene in one of them to talk. We need to develop a comprehensive plan and iron out the details before we can even consider buying a gas-powered car to drive toward Reno. You can’t give yourself up to Jed Marshall. If he gets control over you, then?—”
“ My mother , Mr. King. He has my mother. If I don’t show up in The Outlaw tomorrow by six, then there’s no telling what he’ll do to her. He promised me that he’ll keep her safe, but still…” She shuddered. “I don’t know what he’ll do if he gets desperate for control.”
Mr. King pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and tightened his grip on the wheel—both actions of which she could now safely say were habitual ticks for her man. Her man. Careful, Gen, don’t get too attached.
“And what?” Mr. King sputtered. “You’re just going to walk in there and let him have you? Then he’s got control over both of you.”
“Let’s talk about this at the motel, please.” Genevieve pressed her fingers into her aching temple. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, she wanted to curl up into her mom’s heap of fluffy throw pillows, but a lumpy motel pillow would have to do for now. “I’m exhausted. Maybe we can even get in a power nap. I barely slept last night.”
“Okay, as long as we talk and think things through before we act.”
She nodded while grinning at his adorableness. He was so thorough in relaying his thoughts about everything, which was probably a good thing. In combination with her boldness, it left little room for misunderstandings.
Quill had returned a call to Mr. King several miles ago and recommended a motel not far from Provo, Utah with a hidden back parking lot. It lined up adjacent to a used car dealership where they could conceal the Tesla next to a countless number of cars and walk across the lot to purchase a new one, killing two birds with one stone. Mr. King and Quill got into a giddy talk about some gas-powered car called a Dodge Challenger Hellcat that was fast but not flashy. They both thought a used car would draw less attention, and she’d listened without intervening because she agreed with them, though she found it curious that never once did the price come up. Why would it, Gen? They’re both millionaires!
Mr. King maneuvered his Tesla off the highway, located the motel, and parked in the back as planned. The rooms entered from the outside, and here in the back, the highway was not visible. Her taut muscles relaxed. Perfect surroundings—easy in, easy out. No fancy valets or people were moving about to care who they were or what they did. A small strip mall with a laundry mat and coffee shop was on one side of the motel, while the huge used car dealership wrapped around the other two non-street sides.
Mr. King scanned the scene, his eyes fixated on the cars in the lot.
Genevieve studied him in captivated amusement. “What’s it like to walk into a dealership and buy whatever car you want without a second thought?”
A blush crept up his cheeks. “Nice, I guess. I like cars.”
Grinning, she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. If I didn’t get that from your nutty driving today, the fact that you told me directly made it pretty clear.”
“I realize that.” Looking sheepish, he sighed. “I just don’t know how else to answer your question without sounding vain.”
She giggled, shaking her head.
He glanced at her and hesitated. “Do you feel that you can’t buy what you want on the salary I’ve established?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that. I haven’t spent half of what I’ve made at BC King Enterprises. I’ve been saving up in case…you know…”—she shrugged—“my mom and I needed to run.” A sick sense of dread filled her stomach. “And then with Jed, it was like anything I bought was his, not mine.”
“That jackass,” she thought she heard Mr. King whisper followed by, “I’m going to kill him.” Only he couldn’t have said that, right? Nice boys didn’t talk like that.
Mr. King slammed his car door and came around to her side, opening it like a true gentleman. “Come on.” He reached out his hand. “Let’s get you a room so you can rest.”
Genevieve slipped her fingers into his palm, and her nerve endings stirred. This man! Why hadn’t she already claimed him? Other than that, he was her boss, and she had a criminal ex-boyfriend chasing after her anyway. She held in a chuckle at the absurdity of it all.
“Oh, wait.” He released her hand. “You need shoes. Is there an extra set in your bag?”
She nodded.
“I can get them.”
“Yeah, probably a good idea. I see some shards of glass on the pavement. If you could just bring me my duffel?”
“Sure.” Mr. King dashed to the trunk, grabbed her black duffel, and darted back to her. “Want help?” he asked, setting the bag on her lap.
Genevieve pulled a slow smile. “No, I’m fine.” After unzipping her bag, she dug around for the sandals she remembered purchasing at a thrift store when she and her mom were short on funds. Her mom! She wanted to reach through a portal, hug her, and assure her everything would be okay. Those creepy thugs better be treating her like the woman of the house, no matter how many feather dusters she whacked them with. Genevieve would annihilate anyone who laid a finger on her.
Mr. King thumbed his jaw. “You don’t think there could be a tracker in there, do you?”
“No, but that’s good thinking.” She slipped on one brown leather sandal, followed by the other. “You’re starting to think like someone on the run. Doesn’t take long.” A somber laugh escaped her throat while she zipped up her duffel. “This bag’s been securely stashed under my desk since I started working for you in case”—she sighed, realizing she sounded like a broken record—“I needed to run.”
He fumed out a breath. “You should’ve told me right away. No one should have to live like that.”
Shrugging, Genevieve stepped out of the car and soaked in the sunlight. Mr. King reached for her duffel, slung it over his shoulder, and walked to the trunk to get the rest of their bags.
“It was hard enough to ask today. I hate that I’ve put you in danger. If they hadn’t kidnapped my mom, I wouldn’t have asked at all.”
Mr. King flashed her a rattled glare. “Genevieve?—”
She held out a palm. “Please, I’m too tired to argue. I can’t even express in words how grateful I am that you’re helping me now . Can we put this to rest? I’m not a big fan of ‘what ifs.’” She puffed out her cheeks, releasing a slow breath. “Believe me, I would never have set foot in The Outlaw for a job interview that led me to Jed Marshall if we’re going to ‘what if’ things.”
He nodded. “I apologize. When you put it like that, I understand. It just pains me to think of you living in fear. I want you to be”—she watched his features soften as he searched for the right word—“content. ”
“Me too.” She forced a smile. “But I don’t want to take that away from you in the process.”
Mr. King brushed a hand over what appeared to be an amused grin.
Really, he’s amused about having his life screwed over! He needs his head examined.
“If it eases your worries, when you said that, I wanted to argue that being with you does make me feel content.” His features sobered. “Though I will only ever be fully content if you are, and to do that, we’ve got to get this resolved.” Motioning his head toward the lobby, he added, “Shall we?”
Oh my gosh, swoon! But how long would it take him to realize his life was more important than saving hers?
Genevieve reached out a hand. “Can I help with the bags?”
“You can, but I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, “if it makes you feel like more of a man.”
“It does, but maybe you secretly like it?”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Maybe I do.”
He chuckled, the sound fluttering her insides.
They entered the motel lobby, sporting out-of-date green carpet, a tacky display of local brochures, and bitter-smelling stale coffee. Still, she almost preferred this setting to a five-star hotel. They could be on a fun road trip together if not for the circumstances.
The front desk clerk’s fake-lash-rimmed eyes widened, her mouth dropping open as she visibly drooled over Mr. King. Like hell! Genevieve’s fist curled, and she sent the woman a clear message when she looked her way… Mine!
“Two rooms for tonight,” Mr. King said, ignoring the woman’s antics. “On the backside of the facility, please.”
The clerk scanned Mr. King’s body unabashed, as if she could see right through his designer suit, before batting her lengthy lashes at him. Apparently, the glasses and floppy hair weren’t even remotely a turn-off for this woman, and Genevieve had to admit, she’d been too distracted these past two years to allow herself a clear mental picture of what stood beside her. Mr. King wasn’t just insanely hot to her—he was insanely hot in general.
“Oh, actually,”—Genevieve glared the woman down—“just one room with two queen beds.” She placed a hand on Mr. King’s arm and met his deliciously curious cocoa-brown eyes, wanting nothing more than to drink him up in front of this other woman. “If that’s okay with you? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Mr. King nodded. His mouth parted open while he held his glasses in place with his index finger. “Of course.” He quickly masked his surprise and turned back toward the clerk. “One room, please. Two beds.”
The woman tilted her head, her tongue darting out to wet her bright pink lips as her eyes traveled down his chest. She leaned forward as if trying to see what he packed in his stylish slacks.
You tramp! It took everything in her not to say it out loud.
“Sure,” the clerk drawled out, not even tinting a blush while her eyes popped back up to meet Mr. King’s. “Or we could always put you in adjoining rooms if you’d like your own space, sir?”
Genevieve’s nails dug into her palm. What was this woman’s deal? Was she going to come knocking on Mr. King’s door? Genevieve turned an unjustified, heated look toward him. Did he always have women hitting on him? If so, why was he still single? Why ask her out? He’d better have some good answers because she didn’t share.
Mr. King’s expression morphed into unease. “Gloria, what would you like?—”
“ Gloria? ” she shouted at him. He’d already forgotten her name? She covered her mouth with her hand. He’s using a false name to protect you, Gen. Get a grip. “Sorry, sweetie, I’m just tired. Don’t mind my reaction.” She turned back toward the clerk. “We’ll take one room.”
In her peripheral vision, Genevieve caught sight of Mr. King’s wide-open eyes and flushed cheeks. His mind was clearly flipping through the conversation, trying to analyze every detail. Great, this was going to be a fun afternoon. ‘I was jealous as hell’ was always a great conversation opener. What was wrong with her? Years with Jed, and she’d never once felt possessive when other women tried to pick him up right under her nose, but Mr. King, well, apparently, he was different.
The woman cleared her throat, irritation written across every angle of her foundation-coated face. “We only have single-king rooms available on the backside of our motel. Our double queens are up front by the pool in the family area.” She flashed Genevieve a competitive grin. “But we do have adjoining king rooms in the back if you’d like, miss.”
Oh, what a bitch. Not cool!
Mr. King placed a hand on her arm. “Gloria, I’m good with whatever you’d like to do. As long as you’re comfortable, I am too.”
Did men like this actually exist?
Genevieve jutted out her chin. “I never wanted my own room in the first place.” The front desk clerk rolled her eyes, and Genevieve shot daggers at her. “We’ll take a king room in the back. To be clear… One .”
“First floor, please,” Mr. King chimed in as if that would diffuse the situation. “We’ll pay cash.”
He squiggled a false name and address on the paper, paid, and grabbed the pouch holding their two keycards. Slugging all the bags, he still managed to wrap a hand under her arm and lead her outside. Without a word, he hurried her to the back of the motel, slid a keycard against their room door’s reader, and rushed them inside, tossing all the bags on the couch.
Genevieve glowered at him.
He blinked and brushed a hand across his jaw. “Sorry about manhandling you, but I had to get you out of there. I’m more than a little confused. We’re trying to fly under the radar here, not draw attention to ourselves. The front desk clerk wasn’t exactly being helpful, but still…” He drew in a deep breath. “I’ll admit I can’t reason through any of what happened back there. Are you upset with me? If so, I truly can’t figure out what I did wrong. I shouldn’t have thrown a fake name at you on the spot, I suppose.” Pacing, he continued, “I couldn’t use either Genevieve or Gigi since Jed Marshall’s network knows both of those. I guess I shouldn’t have used a name at all. Sorry about that.”
Genevieve huffed. “Sorry about that? Really?”
He pivoted toward her and shook his head. “Tell me what I’m supposed to say or rather what the heck I was supposed to do. I hate having you mad at me, but I’ve got to protect you, and I’m clueless about how the simple act of getting a motel room”—he pointed through the wall as if the lobby were right there—“turned into that .”
Gosh, Mr. King was so smokin’ hot, all flustered and upset with her while still trying to take the blame. It was time to say goodbye to Mr. King! He was officially hers , and the words about to come out of her mouth would seal the deal.
“Brendan—”
A shocked inhale hissed through his teeth.
“—you did nothing wrong. Irrational chaos happens when a woman likes you, and another woman is both checking out and flirting with what she considers to be her man.”
His jaw dropped open. A look of pure awe crossed his face before a sexy grin took hold.
Her breath caught. Keep it together, Gen . “Now, I’m going to take a shower and cool down before I say anything else. Best if I get my emotions in check, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know.” He chuckled, shaking his head while running a hand through his wavy locks. “I think you should keep talking. Your out-of-check emotions seem to be in my favor.”
She scoffed a light laugh. “Fine, then there’s one more thing we should clear up.”
He swallowed, nodding. “Okay?”
“I’ve never been the jealous type, but that seems to be different with you. So, in as few of words as possible, can you just tell me… Why the hell are you still single?”
His lips lifted higher, an even cockier grin lighting up his face. “Seems I’m not anymore.”
Damn, so friggin’ hot! “Brendan,” she warned.
He raked his eyes over her with heat. “Because I haven’t been interested in anyone lately…not until you.”
“What you see is what you get. I’m nothing special.”
He marched over to her. “Say that again. I dare you.”
“I’m nothing special,” she whispered, a smirk popping up in the corner of her mouth.
“Egging me on, huh?” He searched her eyes. “Want me to act on it?”
“Badly.”
Brendan’s eyes dilated before he crashed his mouth down on hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him flush with her body. His lips moved a bit sloppy, his teeth grating against hers as he tried to adjust the angle. When was the last time he’d kissed a woman? Another awkward smack against her lips and clash with her teeth, and her mind reeled. Was it possible that he was still a virgin? Perhaps, but she didn’t care. Her stomach lit with butterflies, processing his inexperience with a possessive excitement that he was all hers.
Brendan gained skill quickly, his kisses becoming more fluid. Grabbing the stiff collar of his business shirt, Genevieve backed them up against the wall. She fisted the white cotton fabric and pulled, popping the pearl-patterned buttons apart, and slowly rubbed her hand up his solid, smooth pec, moaning into his mouth while taking over their kiss. His strong masculine scent funneled into her nose—an addictive fragrance of cedar wood and some sort of musky spice. His erection pressed against her, and she responded by pumping her hips, listening to his desperate, almost pained groans.
“Genevieve,” he whispered in a shaky plea. “Please…Genevieve, I…my god…I can’t handle?—”
He gasped as she untucked her cream blouse and grabbed his hands, gliding them up her stomach and placing his palms on her lacy nude bra. Her nipples hardened in anticipation—waiting, hoping—and thank god, he complied. He palmed her full breasts while his tentative fingertips teased her peaks through the lace, his breathing even rougher than hers. She squeezed her legs together, her core achingly wet for him as she reached for his belt.
“Shit.” A sizzling hiss slid through his teeth. He pulled his hands back like she’d seared him and jolted away, tripping over the bed. “I’m…I’m so sorry, Genevieve.” His husky voice shot heat straight through her as he righted himself. “You’re under a lot of stress. This isn’t the right time.”
Her stomach tightened before a flush crept up her cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I’m, shoot…screwing this up,” Brendan panted out, wiping his brow with his sleeve. “I want to make love for the first time when you’re sure I’m what you want. You’re in the middle of an intense situation, and you may not be thinking clearly?—”
“I’m thinking clearly.” Genevieve swallowed through a newly formed lump in her throat. “But I agree with you that it would be better to wait until my life is stable and perhaps until we know each other a little better.” Walking numbly toward the couch, she mumbled, “I should at least know your favorite kind of ice cream and how you take your coffee.” She grabbed some clothes from her bag and pivoted toward the bathroom.
“Genevieve,” he whispered, “please.”
She raised her brows, pinching her lips together. “Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry I upset you, but I don’t regret kissing you or stopping us. I’m not sure another chain of events made sense here other than not kissing you in the first place.”
Chain of events, really? She sighed. “I’m glad you handled it the way you did, though I would rather have been the rational one that stopped us. I hate feeling rejected.”
Brendan vigorously shook his head. “You aren’t being rejected but rather protected. Being rational is in my nature, but that doesn’t make me right. Case in point, I just sent you mixed signals.” Shuffling his feet, he continued, “Please don’t get the wrong idea about my feelings for you. I want you so badly I can barely think straight. My imagination is making me jealous—only in my dreams would I be lucky enough to touch your precious skin.” He fiddled with his glasses, scrunching his brow as if computing how to proceed. “As it was, I only got to second base with your clothes still on and only because you put my hands there. I think my buddies would laugh in my face and slap me with a first-base accusation.”
After a long pause, his words fully sunk in, and she laughed, just as she was sure he intended. The relief that touched his eyes at her reaction to his self-induced teasing warmed her heart.
He plastered on a tentative smile. “Just to be clear, we’re together now.”
“Are you telling me that or asking?”
“Telling you. You said that you’re thinking clearly, so that means when you said I was your man, you meant it. ”
“Well then, you just missed out on some really hot sex for no reason.”
Brendan belted out a laugh. “Touché.” He nodded his chin toward her. “The sex can wait, but staking a claim cannot. Hopefully, this doesn’t scare you off, but after muddling my intentions so badly while trying to do the right thing, I’d like to clarify—I want a committed relationship with you. In no way am I rejecting you. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Genevieve’s mouth dropped open, and she quickly snapped it shut. Okay, message received. She certainly felt a lot less rejected, but she was now a heck of a lot more…panicked? He was insane. Who said stuff like that? Uh, no one! Could she handle this? Committing to a guy she barely knew? With years of trained practice, she held her face even, but one look into his tender, trusting eyes, and she knew—she wanted him. Mr. Nice Guy with an Edge might just complement her perfectly. Why not find out? It was just the possibility of losing him like she did all certainty in her life that caused her to pause.
Brendan studied her face, trying to read her. Good luck! She wasn’t even sure how she felt. Rocking back and forth, he finally said, “Are you going to say something?” He gazed at her with so much apprehension her stomach coiled with nerves. “Genevieve, I just want to know if we’re on the same page. If I understand you correctly, both of us want a committed relationship, right?” She held back a smile as he visibly…strategized? So darn cute! Who does that? “I know that’s a lot more intense of an ask than a date, but I just can’t imagine touching you again without knowing if?—”
“I think I do.” What did you just say? Commitment, Gen, really? Are you nuts? Your last relationship didn’t go so well, remember? For all her thoughts about Brendan being hers, actually committing to him was entirely different—it made things real. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek. He’s not Jed. Why not give him a chance ?
Brendan nodded, releasing the air from his lungs. “Good, discussion closed. One of my business rules is if you almost get a yes, then don’t back down, but with you, I’m going to have to adjust tactics, or I’ll just keep on prodding and screw this up.” He tossed his suit jacket on the bed, rolling his shirt sleeves up and fanning his exposed bare chest like they were inside a furnace.
Genevieve bit back a moan as Brendan stood before her like a male model ready for a photo shoot. What straight woman didn’t want to stare at a man’s sculpted chest peeking out through a ripped-open business shirt while he rocked a set of tailored black slacks? Damn, he could be on a romance book cover.
Brendan continued babbling while she salivated over him. “So my imagination and I are going to park it on the other side of the room. Otherwise, I’ll follow you into the shower.” Sighing, he adjusted his pants where his unattended excitement was boldly evident. “Even more incentive for me to get to work on this and resolve it because, hot damn, I want to.”
She giggled as he walked over to his briefcase, pulled out his laptop, and propped it open on the dented-up computer desk. Grabbing a stainless-steel bottle from his suitcase, he dumped water into his hand and raked his wet palm up his neck and through his tousled hair. He was hot, all right. Adorable!
Just before she entered the bathroom, he said, “Salted caramel ice cream and nitro cold brew coffee, straight-up, both of which remind me of the color of your eyes.” He quirked a grin. “You?”
OMG, so adorable! “Cotton candy ice cream, and nine times out of ten, I go for a vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso.” She nibbled on her lip before adding, “And your eyes remind me of hot cocoa, which I also love.”
Brendan cleared his throat, clearly digging her take on his eyes. “Wow, such a sweet palate to mix with my saltiness.” He winked. “We’re going to complement each other nicely.”
She chuckled softly, loving how much he made her laugh. Whew, for a tentative guy, he sure knew how to turn up the heat. But could he handle his own fire? She couldn’t wait to find out.