Protecting Phoebe Read online

  “Ladies.” I turned and inclined my head regally. “I know this must seem awfully frightening to you. But if it raises money for the children, then I will honor the outcome of the auction.”

  A few of the girls sighed and actually looked impressed. God, they were easy. Anna just folded her arms across her perky tits and frowned.

  “Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you. If you come back with chlamydia you have only yourself to blame.”

  Now she was flinging STDs at me? Like I was going to actually sleep with Mr. Tattoo?

  All of a sudden, I thought about his rigid biceps under my hands, the way his entire body had looked so hard, so muscular. What would he be like in bed? Would he be wild and dangerous, just like his image? The thought was unexpected and made the fluttering in my stomach turn hot and move down between my thighs.

  “Have fun, ladies.” I shouldered my tote bag and left the room, my heels clicking on the linoleum floor.

  Mr. Tattoo waited for me near the exit sign, watching me as I made my way down the hall. My bravado and excitement slipped a little with each step closer to him. Twenty-four hours. I would be with this man for twenty-four hours.

  “Jessica Davis.” A slow smile spread across his face. “So you’re gonna be my bitch for the weekend.”

  My feet stumbled. He’d just called me his bitch. How the hell was I supposed to react to that?

  “Uh, I guess so. Although you might not wanna call me your bitch if you want to keep on my good side.” I took the last few steps that separated us.

  “My apologies. Trying to be funny. Guess I missed the mark.”

  “Just a little bit. I don’t remember seeing you around the island. You’re not local, are you?”

  He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Technically I’m from Augusta.” Ah, that made more sense, but what was he doing on Leaf Island?

  “My grandpa was Randal Thomas. He owned Fisherman’s Feast.”

  My eyes widened and suddenly I wasn’t looking at a grown man, but a sixteen-year-old boy who’d loved to attack me with squirt guns. Who’d made me shriek while chasing me with the fish he’d just caught. Who’d been my first kiss so many years ago.

  He nodded. “Ah, so you do remember me.”

  It suddenly seemed hard to swallow. “Yeah, I do.”

  Josh Thomas. Now I recognized him. It’d just been a little hard with the tattoos and goatee. Talk about a change! He used to spend his summers on the island. Man, I hadn’t seen him since the summer I turned sixteen. After he graduated high school and our little kiss was long forgotten. By then he’d moved on to Tina Schillings, who’d already slept with half the teenage boys in town.

  “I was sorry to hear about your grandpa, Josh.”

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and offered a brief smile. “Yeah, me too. He was a good guy. I would have gotten down here earlier, soon after the funeral, but some things came up.”

  Somebody passed us in the hall, bumping into me and sending me stumbling up against Josh. Once again, he reached out to steady me.

  “Thanks.” I looked up and our gazes locked. I watched his pupils dilate, heard him inhale quickly.

  My stomach did a little flippy thing again, and I stepped away quickly.

  “Are you ready to go?” His voice had turned gruff.

  I nodded, and my new bangs fell into my eyes. I pushed them away.

  “All right.” He gave a quick nod. “Follow me.”

  He pushed open the door, stepping outside as the sunshine spilled into the hallway of the senior center. I took a deep breath, looking at his silhouette against the bright Maine sky, and then walked outside.

  “So where did you park?” I asked while following him through the parking lot. He glanced back at me with another big smile but didn’t answer my question. We kept weaving between cars, until I saw it all by itself at the end of the row. I stumbled in my heels. It was a motorcycle. A big one.

  “Umm…” I bit my lip.

  “You ever been on a Harley before?”

  “The only bike I’ve ever ridden was my Huffy when we were kids.”

  “Well, then, aren’t you in for a treat?” He laughed and tugged off the jacket he now wore. “You’re going to need to wear this over that tiny dress.”

  “Thanks.” I slipped my arms into his jacket but didn’t bother to zip it up. It hit well past my hips and smelled like him. Leather and sandalwood.

  “Looks good on you. Now this.” He handed me a spare helmet and then fastened his own on.

  I struggled with the helmet, managing to put it on, but the straps part eluded me.

  “Here, let me.” He closed the distance between us and deftly secured the helmet on my head. His breath was warm against my face, the smell of him teasing my senses.

  He didn’t pull away immediately, and the tiny hairs all over my body lifted as I became aware of the differences in our bodies. He was so tall, so muscular, and just so hard everywhere. I felt almost dainty, and I was not a dainty woman by any means.

  “Jessie.” My name was a whisper on lips that hovered just above my mouth.

  I think I moaned, or made some kind of strange sound. His gaze dropped to my mouth and I leaned toward him, closing my eyes. Nothing happened. Then he sighed and the heat from his body was gone.

  “We should go.”

  My eyes snapped open and a blush heated my cheeks. He turned away and straddled the bike. Lord, what had I been doing? Trying to get him to kiss me?

  “Hop on, I’m gonna take you for one helluva ride.”

  His words evoked images of another kind of ride that could’ve been fun. But this would have to do. I glanced down, remembering what I was wearing. Ah, what the hell. After hiking the dress up around my thighs, I swung a leg over the leather seat and sat down behind him.

  He reached back and took my arms, pulling them around his waist. Oh, Lordy, what a stomach he had on him. Definitely not a teenage boy anymore, but a grown man. A very buff grown man.

  My hands seemed to take on a mind of their own and actually started to wander over the taut muscles on his abdomen, which suddenly bounced with laughter.

  Oh, this was embarrassing. He probably thought I was some horny chick that hadn’t been laid in months. Which was true, but damn it, he didn’t have to know that. And I wasn’t exactly desperate.

  Milton down at my office asked me out five times in the last year. I could’ve gotten a date if I really wanted one.

  Grimacing, I laced my fingers together to keep from feeling Josh up again. My nipples were tight now and pressing snug against the leather of his jacket.

  The motorcycle roared to life, vibrating between my thighs. As if I wasn’t getting turned on enough by the man himself, the bike was now going to add its support. Moisture pooled between my legs, and I bit my lip to avoid groaning.

  The bike shot forward. With a yelp of fear, I forgot my loose grasp around his waist and hung on for dear life, burying my face into his solid back.

  The wind whipped at my hair as we tore out of the parking lot and onto the coastal highway. After a few minutes of riding, the fear faded and exhilaration took its place. Adrenaline rushed through my blood and a huge grin spread across my face. I cried out in excitement as he took a corner, leaning the bike through the turn.

  Where was he taking me? I stared out at the ocean, watching the waves that crashed onto the beach just below the road. Swiping my tongue over my now dry lips, I tasted the salty sea air.

  I lifted my head when he steered the bike onto Rockport Street. Ah, so that was where he was taking me. I should have figured it out earlier. Had his grandpa left him the house?

  Josh turned the bike onto the waterfront property and killed the engine.

  I pulled away from him and eased myself off the motorcycle. My thighs still trembled as if I were still riding. Fidgeting with the straps of my helmet, I finally managed to pull it off.

  “How’d you do?” he asked while pulling off his own hel
met and hanging it over the handlebar of the bike.

  “That was pretty cool.” I set my helmet down like his on the opposite handlebar and grinned. “Can we do it again soon?”

  “Hell yeah.” He stepped forward and settled his big hands on my hips. “But first, I need to make something up to you.”

  My body trembled, and it had nothing to do with the aftereffects of the bike this time. “Oh, what’s that?”

  “A really bad kiss I gave you when we were kids.” His head lowered, blocking out the sun, and then came the first soft brush of his lips against mine.

  He lifted his mouth just slightly, and his breath was warm against my lips as he murmured, “I wanted to do this earlier, in the parking lot. But I didn’t want to freak anyone out for your safety any more than they already were.”

  He kissed me again, rubbing his lips on mine in a slow, firm kiss that had my knees going weak. When he outlined my bottom lip with his tongue, I opened my mouth for him.

  He slipped inside with a sound of approval, immediately seeking out my tongue with his. He tasted sweet, confident, and dangerous. And I wanted all of it.

  His goatee tickled my chin, more tangible proof at how very male he was. I slipped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He deepened the kiss, sucking on my tongue and sending darts of pleasure straight to the ache between my legs. He finally pulled back, dragging in air while I did the same.

  Tracing his thumb over my swollen lips, he stared down at me with a hooded gaze. “I have to say, Jessie, you sure have grown up.”

  His words sent a thrill of excitement through me. “I have news for you. I grew up years ago.” I licked my lips. “You just weren’t around to enjoy the results.”

  His mouth stretched into a sexy smile. “But I am now.”

  “Yes, you are.” I glanced at him through my lashes, my heart thudding as I stepped past him and headed toward the front door. “And by the way, you didn’t have to make up for anything. You’ve always been a good kisser.”

  Note from Shelli

  I do hope you enjoyed this book, I’d so appreciate it if you’d help others enjoy it too.

  Recommend it. Please help other readers find this book by recommending it.

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  About Shelli

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Shelli Stevens writes a variety of romance genres including contemporary, cowboys, paranormal, and romantic comedy. Shelli is most known for her contemporary series such as Holding Out for a Hero, The McLaughlins, and A is for Alpha.

  She’s a compulsive volunteer, and has been known to spontaneously burst into song. She is a true pluviophile (lover of rain) and currently lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two daughters.

  Connect with Shelli online:

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  Shelli recommends … Mari Carr

  Because It’s True

  Just Because, Book 3

  Mari Carr

  Prologue

  Searing pain roared through Rodney’s arm as black spots danced before his eyes. More gunfire pounded into the wall of the building behind him, pelting him with shards of shattered brick. He’d known something was wrong the second he walked out of the bank. Hell, he’d had a premonition all morning that something would happen, that everything was about to change. He knew better than to ignore his gut feelings.

  “Rodney!”

  Fuck. Bridget was out in the open. He forced himself to remain conscious despite the agonizing fire currently raging through his body. He watched Mark throw himself on top of her, shielding her from the gunfire.

  “Get her to the fucking car!” Rodney yelled. Jesus. If Bridget was killed, it would be his fault. His. It was his job to protect her.

  Bridget crawled closer.

  He reached out with his uninjured arm. “Bridget, take this. Get to New York.” He pressed the flash drive they’d spent the last month of their lives searching for into her hand. It was the key to putting the judge whose henchman was currently trying to kill them away forever.

  “I’m not leaving you,” Bridget insisted.

  Rodney took a deep breath, praying for the strength to get her out of harm’s way. Mercifully, Mark grabbed her, dragging her to the truck.

  Please let her make it. He sighed with relief, the sound coming out as a harsh shudder when he watched the truck with Bridget ensconced inside pull away.

  “Bridget,” he whispered.

  Strong hands gripped him, shocking him. What the fuck? He started to kick out, but the last of his strength slowly drained away.

  “It’s me, Rod.”

  Christ. Jake. No.

  “Get down,” Rodney said, the words sounding more like a bark than his normal voice. “Get inside!”

  Jacob didn’t reply. Instead he lifted Rodney’s upper body with firm hands beneath his armpits and dragged him to the entrance of the bank. The movement was excruciating and bile rose to Rodney’s throat. Waves of nausea caused by the red-hot poker lodged in his arm enveloped him.

  He’d been shot. It was a possibility he’d faced every day as he patrolled the streets of New York City as a cop. Who would have thought this sleepy town of Saratoga, Wyoming would be the place to bring him down?

  The gunshots had ceased with Bridget’s escape.

  Jacob laid him gently on the floor of the bank’s lobby. He saw a security guard standing next to his friend, talking on the phone. He would have grinned if he hadn’t been in so much pain. If he was going to die, he couldn’t think of a better last sight than Jacob’s gorgeous face. Sirens sounded in the distance.

  “Bridget,” Rodney whispered.

  Jacob knelt next to him. “Matt and Mark got her away. She’ll be fine, Rod. And so will you. Just hang on, man.”

  She was safe. Jake was safe.

  Rodney let those comforting thoughts permeate the haze of pain, though he still couldn’t let go of the premonition.

  Everything is changing.

  His eyes drifted closed, his body shutting down.

  They were safe.

  But was he?

  Chapter 1

  Rodney Jackson leaned against the makeshift bar, taking everything in. What a night. The backyard of the James Ranch was packed with people—gay men, lesbians, doctors from the hospital where Caleb worked, Stephen and Todd from the B&B next door, Matt’s band. The list went on and on.

  A year ago, he’d been a rookie cop in New York City, surrounded by crowds, tall buildings and the never-ending noise. He’d grown up in a fairly rough part of the city. Gangs, graffiti and taxicabs painted his world.

  This ranch surrounded by mountains and carpeted in thick green grass was like an oasis, something he’d seen in the movies but never expected to experience in real life. It’s funny how something so foreign had come to feel more like home than the place where he’d lived his entire life.

  He hadn’t thought of New York in months. No. The truth was he wouldn’t let himself think of it. The bullet he’d taken back in March had nearly robbed him of his career, his livelihood. As a result, he’d spent months in rehab, enduring hours of physical therapy to regain use of his hand.

  Today, the physical therapist had released him to return to work, given him a clean bill of health. She’d basically written him a ticket back to New York and the life he’d left behind. For so long, he’d thought that was all he wanted.

  Jacob James passed close
by, laughing at something someone had said.

  Turned out he was wrong.

  He studied Jacob’s face, so relaxed and happy as he chatted with an old friend. He had joked once about his and Jake’s polar opposite appearances. Where Rodney was tall, lanky and biracial, Jacob was an all-American poster boy with fair skin, blue eyes and dirty blond hair. The attraction Rodney felt for Jacob had been instant and lasting.

  He rubbed his arm absent-mindedly. Bridget caught his eye and walked toward him. He’d nearly lost use of his arm protecting her. He’d been assigned to guard her when she was put into protective custody. What should have been an easy—if boring—assignment went bad quickly as they were pursued by a hit man. The case had ended when the hit man died in a car chase and the bastard judge who’d been after them was sentenced to life in prison without hope of parole. Good riddance.

  Despite the injury that had nearly robbed him of his career, he knew without a doubt he’d do it all again. Simply because of Bridget. She’d become more than a best friend to him. She was the sister he never had.

  “Is your arm hurting?”

  Rodney realized what he was doing and stopped. He’d developed the practice of rubbing the wounded area when he was trying to ease the pain. The ache had subsided weeks ago, but now he couldn’t break the habit. “No. Not at all. In fact—” he leaned closer, not wanting to be overheard, “—the PT released me today. She gave me the go-ahead to return to work.”

  She was the first person he’d told. He’d come home from physical therapy and searched for Jacob, anxious to share the exciting news. He found Jake helping Matt assemble the makeshift stage for Gay Fest, the annual summer party Jacob held, and the words had died on his lips. Instead of telling him about his clean bill of health, he’d lied and said the therapist had given him more exercises to do.

  The lie had tasted bitter, but today belonged to Jacob. His friend looked forward to Gay Fest more than most five-year-olds did Christmas. Jacob organized the event for other homosexuals like him to come out of the closet for a night and let their hair down. Wyoming—alpha capital of the world—didn’t provide a lot in the way of gay bars, so Jacob decided to amend that fact by holding his own party. Rodney didn’t want to ruin the event with talk of his imminent departure.