“Oh, I don’t know,” she said as if she was definitely undecided. “I like looking at your backside.”
He turned to her. “I liked seeing your backside as well. And I also like looking at your front, preferably naked.”
The man had a way of sending blood racing through her veins. And since they’d taken the wall down between them, they weren’t holding back in expressing their desire for each other. “You sure you want my help?”
“Yes, I’m sure...as long as you keep your hands to yourself.”
Guilty. She did like touching him. Every chance she got. “I can only promise to try,” she said, going to the cabinets for plates. As she set the table, she kept stealing looks at Striker. He was spooning eggs from the frying pan into a platter. The more time they spent together, the more he mattered to her. She believed he was a man with morals—something Scott had lacked. She could not see Striker preying on a woman’s trust. He wouldn’t establish unrealistic expectations between them. Even now she knew where she stood with him.
“You seem at ease in the kitchen. Who taught you how to cook?” she asked him when he’d placed all the trays of food in the center of the table and they’d sat down to eat. She didn’t miss the pain that flashed across his face with her question. It had been quick, yet she’d seen it.
For a moment she wasn’t sure he would answer. And then he held her gaze and said, “My mother taught me to cook.”
“Well, she did a great job. Where does she live?”
Another pause. “She passed away years ago, not long after I began serving my time.”
She didn’t say anything as she thought about what he’d shared. Did that mean he had lost his brother and mother within months of each other? As if he read the question in her eyes, he tried forcing a smile on his lips as he said, “Your nosy bone need scratching again?”
She nodded, deciding not to back down if it would mean finding out what she wanted to know about him. “Yes, it needs scratching.”
He sipped his coffee for a minute as if giving his response much consideration. Then he said, “Mom took Wade’s death hard. Me being locked up on top of that was too much for her. She had a bad case of hypertension and needed to take her medication daily. With both her sons gone, she wasn’t taking care of her health. One of the neighbors, Ms. Foster, called the police when she realized she hadn’t seen Ma for a few days. They found her in bed. She had died in her sleep.”
“Oh, no. How awful that must have been for you.”
“Yes, it was hard not being able to attend her funeral. Her sister, my aunt Gussie, handled everything for me.”
Margo felt the lump in her throat and fought back the tears in her eyes. The man sitting across from her had endured so much pain in his life. Undeserved pain. “I’m sorry, Striker. I am so sorry.” She couldn’t help the tear that fell from her eye.
“I didn’t tell you that to get your pity, Margo,” he said in a gruff tone.
She shook her head. “What you got from me, Striker, is not my pity but my admiration. Despite your past and what you’ve endured, despite everything you’ve gone through and what I know is probably just the tip of the iceberg, you’ve made something of yourself. You are a man to be admired. My protector.”
As if her words had done something to him, he pushed his chair back, came around the table and pulled her into his arms. Before she could take her next breath, he leaned down and captured her mouth in his and immediately robbed her of her senses. He was being methodically slow, yet extremely thorough. It was a good thing his arms had moved to her waist to support her or she would have buckled over.
She closed her eyes to hold on to the little strength she had left, but he wasn’t making it easy. He was taking his time to taste her and she couldn’t help tasting him back. Every stroke of his tongue was making flames of desire blaze through her. But deep down, she knew it was more than that. At that very moment there was no doubt in her mind that she was falling in love with Striker.
That startling realization had her pulling back from the kiss with a sudden gasp. When she opened her eyes, she saw him staring down at her. How had she allowed Lamar Striker Jennings to get past her defenses? The bottom line was that he had. Yet she knew there was no future for them, and, in that moment, she was saddened. After this assignment with her was over, he would leave and not look back.
When he released her, she dropped back down in her chair, not able to stand on wobbly legs. He returned to his chair, and she watched as he resumed eating. Making a decision to try to pick up the conversation where they’d left off, before his kiss had all but rendered her mindless, she cleared her throat and asked, “So, where are you from, Striker?”
He smiled over at her as he bit into a piece of bacon, probably knowing what she was trying to do. “I was born and raised in Little Rock, Arkansas. I lived there until I was sent to Glenworth Prison in Kansas.”
“Kansas?” she asked, taking a sip of coffee. “What made you decide to relocate to Charlottesville once you were released?”
He didn’t say anything for a short moment and then he shared, “It’s where Shep suggested I come.”
“Shep?”
“Yes, Sheppard Granger.”
Surprise lit her eyes, and before she could ask him to expound further, her phone rang. She picked it up and saw it was an unknown number. She glanced across the table at Striker.
He nodded. “Go ahead and answer it,” he said, ready to listen in.
Margo clicked on her phone and said in a cheerful voice, “Hello.”
“Margo Connelly?”
She met Striker’s gaze, and when he nodded, she said to the caller, “Yes, this is Margo.”
“You’re just the person I want to talk to.”
She didn’t recognize the deep male voice. “May I help you?”
“No, but I’m willing to help you. I have something you want.”
“Who is this?”
“Freddie. Freddie Siskin. Remember me?”
She couldn’t stop her skin from crawling. “Yes, I remember you. Why are you calling me? Do you want to make another donation to my charity?”
“No,” he snapped. “I don’t want to make another donation to any damn charity.”
“Then I’m going to end this conversation.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you. I’ve got something you might want.”
“If it’s not a donation, then what is it?”
“A sex tape.”
She looked over at Striker and saw the way his face had tightened. “Excuse me?”
“I have a sex tape of you and Scott doing the nasty. He gave it to me. If you call Scott for verification, I’ll put it out on social media. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that, being an heiress and all.”
“I don’t believe you.” She wondered how Freddie had found out she was an heiress. And from the look in Striker’s eyes, she knew he was wondering the same thing. If Freddie knew, chances were Scott knew as well.
“Then meet me somewhere so I can give you your own personal copy. Once you view it, you’ll have twenty-four hours to contact me to make a deal. If it’s something you don’t want exposed to millions, then be ready to pay me off.”
“That’s extortion!”
“Call it whatever you like. Meet me today. And, remember, if Scott tells me you called him, then all talks are off. Besides, Scott is pretty pissed with you, which is why he gave me the sex tape. All this time he thought you were a struggling seamstress. Imagine his shock when I told him you’re loaded. You used him.”
“I didn’t use him.”
“You forced us to give our hard-earned money to some damn charity.”
“You didn’t have to accept the deal. Both of you could have gone to jail.”
He snorted. “Just because of a joke I played on you? Look, I’m through talking. If you don’t want me to put this sex tape on the internet, I suggest you meet me today.”
Margo held Striker’s gaze as he mouthed the words stall him. She nodded. “We can’t meet you today. I’m not in town now.”
“Too bad. I would suggest you make your way back to Charlottesville. I will call you in four hours with the location.”