Beauty Dates the Beast(33)

I wasn’t dreaming.

My outrage changed to a moan of desire as he hit just the right spot and an orgasm began to rocket through me, my legs clenching and my body shattering as his tongue worked its magic.

“Sweet Bathsheba,” Beau said, and I felt his breath whisper against my flesh. “You taste wonderful. I thought about doing this to you all day.”

I sat up, my hips banging against his nose, and he groaned in pain. I pried his hands off my thighs and scurried to the far side of the bed. “Beau! What are you doing here?”

My traitorous heart gave wild thumps of joy, and my legs still quivered with pleasure.

He sat back on his haunches, rubbing his nose. “I should ask you the same question. Bathsheba, why did you leave? It’s not safe.”

I couldn’t explain it to him. I shook my head, tugging my nightgown down. I wanted to be mad at him, but more than that, I wanted to fling myself into his arms again and kiss him, press his hot skin against my own. “How … how did you get in here?”

Beau glanced toward the window. “I climbed the trellis to the window. You should make sure that you lock the windows from now on.”

How dare he sound mad at me? “One of your brothers is in the guest bedroom,” I said, my face coloring. Oh God, had I been moaning in my sleep? What had Jeremiah heard?

“So that’s how you got back to the city,” Beau said, spotting his phone and moving to the side of my bed. He grinned at me. “Clever thing.”

As he approached, I slid my legs over the side of the bed and went in the other direction. I needed to keep space between us. My legs still felt like Jell-O after his wake-up call, and my body ached for a repeat performance. “Beau, stay away from me.”

He stilled on the bed. “Bathsheba, tell me what’s wrong. Did I hurt you last night? Frighten you?”

“Nothing like that,” I said. “Last night was … fine.” Terrific. Mind blowing. Amazing. I couldn’t tell him that, though, or he’d never leave.

His frustration was evident in the tense set of his shoulders. “Then what is it? Something’s obviously bothering you; I just want to know what’s happened.” His eyes gleamed in the darkness, just like in my dream, and it started an involuntary pulsing in my blood. “It’s Giselle, isn’t it? Is she blackmailing you somehow?”

I kept silent. I couldn’t expose Sara’s secret.

“Giselle is a bad person, Bathsheba. She uses people.” He moved toward me and knelt beside the bed. “Let me help you.”

“You can’t help me, Beau,” I said, my voice quiet with pain. “Please go. I don’t want to have this conversation anymore.”

“Bathsheba—”

“Please, Beau, just go. If I could be with anyone, it’d be you. But I can’t be with anyone, so please … just leave me alone.”

He reached out to touch my cheek, but when I turned away, he pulled back as if burned. His voice softened. “I’m going to find out what Giselle has over you, and I’m going to change it. I’ve claimed you. And when a member of the Alliance marks a woman as his, nothing had better stand in his way.”

He stalked to the far side of the room and slid out the open window. I heard his feet thud as he hit the pavement below, and then nothing.


The next day Giselle had me back at work, dressed in an outfit that she’d picked out: a pink turtleneck and long skirt. “Got to cover up the bite marks,” she said. “You don’t want anyone seeing that Beau has claimed you.” Her mouth thinned. “Repeatedly.”



Her words brought a hot blush to my face, and I recalled waking up with his face planted between my thighs last night.

I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat down at my desk. It was covered in papers, cases that needed to be matched, client profiles to update.

Marie from the night shift sat at Sara’s desk. She had headphones on and softly sang off-key to a Bon Jovi song as she worked at her computer. I would have smiled if I’d had anything to smile about.

Instead, I just felt like crying.

My email inbox was full as well. I picked through the messages, clicking past client emails. Beau had emailed me at 3:00 a.m., and I deleted it without reading it. Cold turkey was the best method for dumping an ex … and healing a broken heart.

I also had four emails from Jason Cartland. They were simple, conversational, charming. One read, Had a great time on our date. Looking forward to the next. The next said, Heard that you were sick—let me know if you need me to drop by. I make a mean chicken noodle.

I smiled faintly at that.

Another email popped into my box as I was reading. Jason again? I tamped down the twinge of annoyance. Lunch? It read. You look beautiful in that turtleneck. Not a bit under the weather.

In shock, I looked up from my computer screen and saw him in the office waiting area, BlackBerry in hand. He grinned and waved it at me, and I was struck anew at how handsome he was—and how completely different he was from Beau. Beau’s face was rugged, sexy with hard lines that made his playful smiles all the more thrilling. The angular planes of a Roman soldier who knew what he wanted and took it with force.

Jason was his opposite. His features were refined, perfect—his nose hadn’t been broken in bar fights, and he probably used product on his hair. His gray suit was impeccable, and he wore a light pink tie that added a playful note to his suit … and just happened to perfectly match my turtleneck.

I glowered at Giselle’s door, then gestured for Jason to come in.

“I didn’t see you out there,” I said, wincing when it came across as surly. The scent of his thick Old Spice put me in an immediate bad mood.

He gave me a dazzling smile. “I heard you were sick. I hope you’re feeling better?”

I nodded and gestured at one of the nearby seats. “I’ll live.” In reality, I wanted to crawl into bed and never come out again. But Jason wouldn’t want to hear that, so I feigned a smile and pretended nothing was wrong, like I always did.

“I’m glad.” He leaned over my desk, took my hand, and kissed the palm, his eyes on me.

Resisting the urge to rip my hand out of his, I gave him a tepid smile.

He released me and took a chair directly across from my desk. “I heard you were back and thought I’d see if you were interested in picking up where we left off. I promise not to bite, unless asked.”

A date? Right now? The thought made me want to cry.

“Can we take a rain check on that?” I said, trying to smile and failing miserably. “I’m still not a hundred percent.” I sat down at my desk and opened his file, paging through the documents. “I’m sure we can find you someone else if you’re lonely. I know a great harpy—”

He reached across the desk and took my hand again, and the heavy scent of his cologne met my nostrils. “I don’t want anyone else,” Jason said, all sultriness, his eyes intense. “I want you to spend time with me so we can get to know each other better, and so I can wipe that sad look off your face.”

I pulled my hand out of his uncomfortably. I hated the touching. But he was such a nice guy that I felt like a bitch. “Jason, I don’t know …”

Giselle strolled into the office, a tall Starbucks in her hand. Her lovely face lit up at the sight of him. “Jason, dearest. How are you?” She moved to his side and he stood to greet her. They exchanged a quick kiss on each cheek in the European way. “What brings you here today?”

“I can’t get Bathsheba out of my head.” His white smile flashed across his face. “I thought I’d see if she wanted to go out on a date tonight.”

Giselle gave me her most delighted expression. “A date? How lovely of you. Poor Bathsheba has been in such a slump lately.” She gave me a pointed look. “Isn’t it thoughtful of him to come by?”

I was beginning to suspect she had engineered this little “surprise” visit. “Very thoughtful,” I said, forcing an equally fake smile. “A date will be fine.”





Chapter Sixteen





I made a quick stop home on my lunch hour.



Sometime during the day, a cleaning crew had stopped by and the house smelled of furniture polish and lemon-scented cleaner. It was just like Beau to send in a crew to take care of things. A small part of me was disappointed that the Russell clan was no longer staked out here, but maybe I didn’t matter anymore.

I didn’t have time to dwell on my hurt, though. I grabbed a change of “date” clothes and returned to work, dreading my date with Jason that evening. Giselle had scheduled it at a fancy French bistro.

The afternoon dragged by. The only thing to break it up was a quick meeting with Giselle; apparently Garth the naga wanted to see me again, despite the fact that I’d ditched him.