McKenzie, Cooper - His Beck and Call Girl [Club Esoteria 6] (Siren Publishing Allure) (2 page)

Chapter 2

Sinclair made it halfway home before the shaking began. Tears held off until she parked in the driveway in front of her little house. Dropping her forehead to the steering wheel, she let them flow. They raced down her cheeks fast and hot to drip off her chin. Her low-cut red tank dress caught them. She’d worn the sexy dress to keep her motivated for the momentous occasion of showing more backbone than she thought she had in her.

She would never be able to wear the dress again without thinking of this day and the longing in her heart. Over time it had festered into an ache in her soul from wanting more than he seemed capable of giving. But then, most of her clothes had some memory of Jackson connected with them.

Though she couldn’t afford it, she would have to purge her closet and replace all the clothes that carried memories of their times together. Memories of late-night phone calls that lasted for hours when the firehouse was quiet. And the times when he came to her house to take a break from the go-go-go life that he never talked about. Those visits inevitably led to some of the best, hottest sex Sinclair had ever experienced. But too soon afterwards, he would dress and be out the door, tossing a “buzz you later” over his shoulder as he left.

Once the tears slowed and her trembling eased enough that she could function, Sinclair mopped up and climbed from the car. Opening her cell phone, she called Megan’s number. Her best friend lived half a block away, which made it mandatory that they check in with one another daily, either by phone or in person.

“Hey, girl, what’s up?” Megan answered in her usual upbeat style.

“Which wine goes better with a battered heart, red or white?” Sinclair asked without preamble.

“Huh?”

“Never mind, maybe I’ll drink both. You’re welcome to join me if you want, but you might want to hurry,” Sinclair offered just before hanging up and climbing from her car.

Sinclair was in the process of uncorking the bottle of red wine when Max, her liver-colored cocker spaniel, ran to the front door, barking.

“Hush, baby, it’s Megan.” Sinclair shushed the dog, then opened the front door. “Come on in and join the party.”

“What’s happened? Why are we drinking? Have you heard from Jackson yet?” Megan asked as she followed Sinclair back into the kitchen.

“Not exactly, though I have a feeling I never will again. I scared the shit out of him and he’s gone forever.”

Sinclair finished uncorking the wine before pouring two glasses full. Handing one to her friend, Sinclair put the cork back in the bottle. She carried the bottle with her through the living room and out the front door to the wide porch that ran the width of her tiny bungalow.

“Okay, spill. What happened?” Megan asked again once they were settled on the two chairs kept for these evening visits.

Sinclair looked around the porch and realized she’d probably have to replace her furniture, too, if she wanted to fully purge Jackson from the house. They’d sat out here and talked. They’d made love—no, they’d had sex on the couch and chair in her living room as well as the bed. He’d wandered the house and they’d sat on the back deck and talked on one of those occasions when he took time out of his life to come and be a part of hers.

Yep, maybe it was time to think about burning the house down and walking away. It would serve him right if she did it tonight while he was on duty. Or maybe she’d wait a day or two while he was on his four-day break.

After downing half the contents of her wineglass in about three swallows, Sinclair set her glass on the table between their chairs then relayed her visit to the firehouse. When tears started again, she went inside and grabbed a handful of napkins.

“He didn’t say anything?” Megan asked once she’d finished talking.

Sinclair shook her head. “I didn’t give him a chance. I had my say and walked away quick.”

“Is this really what you want? To break up with him?”

Sinclair shrugged. “Not really, but what else can I do? Like I told him, I’m tired of being his beck and call girl, though the sex was incredible.”

Before Megan could respond, the long, low, rolling siren of a fire engine filled the otherwise quiet evening. Sinclair froze as it grew louder and louder. When red and white lights began to flash off the houses across the street and the siren slowly wound down, the women looked at one another. As one, they stood up and looked up and down the street for signs of smoke. Sinclair’s neighbors came to their windows or stepped outside to see what the excitement was all about.

“Holy shit,” Megan said as the big, shiny red truck eased to a stop in front of Sinclair’s house.

The back door of the cab opened and one man climbed down. He reached back inside and pulled something out before crossing Sinclair’s front yard with long, purposeful steps. As he approached, Sinclair was shocked to see he carried a bunch of daisies in one hand. He did not stop until he climbed the three steps to the porch and crossed to stand in front of Sinclair.

He didn’t acknowledge Megan’s presence, which stunned Sinclair, as her best friend was a knockout. But Jackson had shocked her more than once by his appreciation for her Rubenesque curves.

Before speaking, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Obviously I only have a minute, but I needed to see you. Here, these are for you,” he said as he offered her the flowers.

Taking them, Sinclair noted the daisies were tied together with a red ribbon. He had remembered her favorite flower, something she had only mentioned once several months earlier. Looking up, she opened her mouth, but Jackson touched her mouth with his index finger to keep her from speaking.

“You had your say earlier. Now it’s my turn.”

He brushed the pad of his finger back and forth across her lips. She swallowed hard as her nipples beaded and her cunt clenched. She looked into his cobalt blue eyes and did not glance away as she did with everyone else. Then she nodded.

“You were right. I’ve been an ass, but don’t want to lose you. Which is why I’m here in front of my crew and all your neighbors to have my say. If you’re agreeable, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at eight. I have to work tomorrow night, but you can go with me. I’ll let you ask me anything you want. Maybe we’ll even get a chance to play,” he said, using their code word for sex. He raised his eyebrows and gave her the smile that said they would definitely be playing at some point, which was fine with her.

Sinclair nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Oh, here,” he said, handing her a folded piece of paper he pulled from his pocket. “This is for you, too.”

Sinclair took the paper, but before she could open it to read the contents, Jackson slid a hand under her jaw and lifted her head so she looked up at him. He leaned down and gave her a long, lingering kiss that made Sinclair cream her panties again.

When he pulled away and brushed the back of two fingers down her cheek, he had the seriously aroused look she’d seen before which turned her on even more. “Wear your black dress the way I like best.”

Sinclair’s eyes widened in surprise when she realized he wanted her to wear her little black dress without anything underneath it. Sure she’d worn it like that before, but never out in public.

Knowing he was waiting for an answer, she nodded and whispered, “Be safe,” as she always did.

“Keep your doors locked until tomorrow night,” he said in return before he turned and headed down the porch steps.

It wasn’t until the truck drove out of sight that Sinclair looked at the paper in her hand again. Opening it, she began to giggle.

“What is it?” Megan asked before taking a sip of her wine.

“It’s his address and phone number.”

Chapter 3

Sinclair stared in the full-length mirror as she turned right then left. The little black dress hung on her body beautifully, camouflaging her thick waist and hips, but there was no way she could go out in public without a bra. The spaghetti straps and deep
V
of the dress needed the black sports bra she normally wore with it. It didn’t matter how much she wanted Jackson’s approval, she could not leave the house with her more-than-generous breasts unsupported.

Glancing at the clock she had just enough time to change. Pulling the dress over her head, she quickly pulled on the bra and then the dress again. She was slipping on gold sandals when she heard the front door open.

“Hello,” Jackson called.

“Come on in,” she returned as she left her bedroom.

Her stomach clenched with nerves at what the next few minutes would hold. Would Jackson turn and walk away because she’d worn a bra?

Max raced past her, growling as his nails clicked on the hardwood floors, scrambling for hold. When he reached the living room and saw the intruder, his bark turned excited and happy in greeting. By the time she joined them, Max was on his back, squirming in delight as Jackson rubbed his belly.

“Hello,” she said, stopping as soon as she saw him.

She tried not to drool as he stood and turned his attention to her. He wore black leather pants and a vest without a shirt, showing off his eight-pack of abs and sleekly muscled arms.

He met her gaze, then raised one hand and made a circular motion as he slowly crossed the small living room toward her. “You look beautiful, sunshine, but you’re wearing too many clothes.”

He reached out with one finger and touched the pad to her chin, then traced a line down her neck and chest until he reached the edge of the bra. Then he bent his finger and with the back of the digit slid down further, his finger moving back and forth to brush against the side of both breasts and her chest. As always just that small touch wound her up, made her want to throw herself into his arms and beg for consolation.

“Why?”

Sinclair dropped her head until her chin rested on her chest. “I just couldn’t,” she said softly as she blinked several times to keep her tears under control.

She was tempted to run and hide, but could not move away from the finger that still brushed against her skin. When Jackson pulled his finger away the loss pricked at her heart. Her breath caught when instead it came up and touched just underneath her chin and lifted her face until she looked up and met those deep blue eyes. That he looked curious and not disappointed gave her hope that he wouldn’t walk away quite yet.

“Why not?” he asked gently.

Sinclair looked at him, not believing that he didn’t see it. But that was one of the things that had attracted her about Jackson. He really didn’t see, or care about, the extra pounds she carried.

“I don’t go out without a bra. I can’t.”

“Why not?” he frowned slightly, still not understanding.

Sinclair swallowed hard while trying to find the words to explain. “My body isn’t young and perky anymore,” she finally said.

Jackson blinked, and his frown eased, but only marginally. As he considered her words, his gaze dropped to her chest and his finger again dropped to trace the bare skin just at the edge of her bra.

“We’ve talked about being bold and having confidence, remember? While people will look at you, they won’t care whether or not you have a bra on. I’d never do anything to embarrass you, and I’d really like you to go without it tonight.”

His tone, combined with the sexual heat from his eyes, melted her resistance. She nodded and took a step back, intending to return to her bedroom and make the change.

“No, sunshine. Take it off here. I want to say hello to your pretty girls,” he said with a sexy grin.

Sinclair returned his grin as he reached for the hem of her dress. She took a deep breath as he pulled it over her head then turned it right side out again. She pulled off the elastic sports bra and dropped it on the coffee table, leaving her standing before him wearing only her sandals. Her nipples beaded as the cool air touched them and her pussy overflowed with her arousal. Looking down she saw the front of Jackson’s jeans bulging with his growing erection.