VenCo(25)

Therese looked up, frowning, to see Jay Christos in all his charismatic glory. Long, sleek hair, black as a raven; smooth skin shadowed around the hard jawline with soft stubble, the kind you wanted to feel on your skin, preferably the inside of your thigh. Eyes, dark and flashing. A starched collar, white shirt, buttons working hard to lay flat against a muscled chest, tailored coat, the flash of a gold watch between a leather glove and a buckled sleeve. Tall enough to need a stepladder, hot enough to get on your knees, and she had one thought.

Money.

And then one more: Yum.

She set both bags down, letting her robe fall open. Thank god she was wearing her good nightie, the one that made her feel like Dolly Parton in 9 to 5, all spit and tit. “What are you? A gentleman or something?”

“Well, we do happen along once in a while.” Jay gave a little bow, then picked up her garbage. “Where am I taking these?”

Therese fluffed her short curls. Dammit, why hadn’t she gotten Harry to redo her roots yesterday? “Uh, just in the bin at the side there.”

Jay hefted the bags into the bin, then came back to her, brushing his hands together. “Okay then, Miss . . .”

“You can call me Therese.” She was leaning on the railing now, freckled cleavage held aloft and together by her crossed arms.

“Therese,” Jay purred. “You are a tenant here?”

“Main floor. Biggest apartment in the building,” she boasted.

“Therese, I was wondering if you could do me a favour?”

“Sure, just give me a minute to send my old man to the store,” she said, and cackled. It was a grating sound, like a series of small coughs.

“Oh, you are bad, aren’t you?” Jay smiled at her so warmly that Therese actually blushed. “I was thinking more that you could help me find someone I’m looking for.”

“And here I was hoping you were looking for me.”

“Well, this is more of a business matter. I need to deliver some papers to someone whom I think lives in your building, but I’m not sure.”

“Legal papers?” Therese loved drama, and in terms of juiciness, legal drama ranked right behind love drama.

“I’m afraid I can’t say,” he demurred, managing to imply that she was completely on the mark.

“Okay, Mr. You’ve Been Served, who is it you’re tracking down? The fruit on the second floor? He seems like the type who would be getting sued, probably over his big mouth.” She glared up at the window above them, where velvet drapes were pulled tight.

“I am looking for a St. James, actually.”

“Miss or Mrs.?”

There were two of them? Well, one was sure to lead to the other. “Lucky. But either will do, actually.”

“They live on the third floor, but I haven’t seen them lately. Still, why don’t you come in and try knocking? Top of the stairs. I’ll take you.”

This one was going to be hard to shake. “That’s very kind of you. Please, lead the way.”

Therese did her best shake and shimmy up the first flight but was breathing hard by the second landing. Jay followed close behind, sniffing the air as they went. There was no indication of a witch nearby. He needed this ridiculous woman to get out of his way, and soon, but he maintained his composure.

At the top of the stairs was a single door. Breathing hard, Therese staggered over and knocked. “Stella, hun? You in? Lucky?”

In a stage whisper, Therese said to him, “Ridiculous name, right? Her mother was quite the character. Dead now, but she was a honky-tonk bar on legs, let me tell you.” She knocked again, calling, “Stella?”

Still no answer.

She turned back to Jay, a hand on her hip, looking him up and down. “Maybe you wanna leave a message for them?”

He was on her before she could draw breath, pushing her up against the door, his palms flat against the wood on either side of her head. “What I want, Therese, is for you to go back to your apartment and . . . What is the name of your old man?”

“H . . . Harry,” she gasped.

“Harry, right. So I want you to go down to your apartment and find Harry and pull up that nightie.” He moved a hand down her body to her hem and lifted it an inch or two with one finger. “And I want you to sit on him.”

Her nipples were suddenly at full attention, tenting the fabric at alarmingly different angles.

“Do you understand, Therese?” he cooed, his breath warm on her skin. “I want you to sit your pretty ass right on his face.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She nodded.

“You’ll do that for me?”

She nodded more emphatically. “Uh-huh.”

“Good girl.” He stepped back, turned her around, and gave her ass a sharp slap. She moaned in response, then shivered violently.

“Fine, then, thank you for your help today.” His voice was formal, his smile polite. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure, sure thing, you’re welcome.” She smiled back, her eyes hectic. “You okay to show yourself out? I need to go . . .”

She wasn’t sure why, but she was frantic. If she didn’t see Harry right this minute, she was going to stop breathing. Embarrassed, she clutched the sides of her robe and belted it closed. What was she even doing on the third floor?