It was weird.
It was totally Harriet, and I loved it.
I also loved that Duke had not only thought of doing something like this, but enlisted the help of his insane grandmother.
Sinking into the water, I tried to shake off my reservations, wipe at them with a loofa as if they would glide off me. It was kind to call them reservations. The more accurate description would be fears.
I was terrified at how happy a fucking bath and some candles made me, how the gesture and the people involved were snaking under my skin in a way I knew would mark me forever.
They’d eventually be nothing more than marks…scars. Because this was a good, clean family. Even Duke, who I was sure had marks on his soul—had done some bad shit—was clean too.
But the dirt was more than just under my nails. The shine, the fame, the money, it was all smoke and mirrors so no one saw how filthy and broken I really was.
Self-deprecating thoughts were cut short when another person entered the bathroom. I jumped, swishing the water over the edge.
“It’s me,” Duke said, calmly, apologetic.
Of course it was him. No way would macho-man Duke let anyone come skulking into this place.
Even though bubbles were covering most of my body and Duke’s lips had been on my pussy this morning, I felt shy.
Shy.
Me.
Considering my history, I would’ve thought such a thing was impossible.
But my stomach dropped ever so slightly and my cheeks warmed with a blush that makeup artists had only ever applied.
The candles were the only light in the bathroom, but Duke was clearly visible for me to see he wasn’t averting his eyes. No protecting of my modesty. No apologizing for the intrusion. He walked in here like it was totally natural.
It was another intensely intimate moment, the likes of which I hadn’t experienced.
He placed a large glass of wine on the small side table beside the bath, right where my book was resting. Seemed my mind had been too chaotic to even think of picking it up.
“Thought this might help you relax a little,” Duke said.
He was towering over me in a way that should’ve made me feel small, vulnerable. But the thickness of Duke’s voice, the tight way he held his body, showed me I had an effect on him. I had power over him, lying here naked with him above me, fully clothed.
I had a hard time thinking of anything else but yanking him into the bath with me, finishing what we started this morning.
“Don’t,” he growled.
I blinked. Could he read minds now?
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that.”
I hid my grin. “Like what?”
His fingers grasped my chin as he bent down to put his face inches from mine. “You play a lot of things well, baby, but innocent isn’t one of them. Don’t you look at me in a way that makes me want to drag you out of the bath and fuck you on the floor.”
I really wanted him to do that.
Really. Fucking. Wanted. Him.
He leaned back just as I was about to push my body forward and lay my lips on his.
“But I’ve got a plan for tonight. I want to feed you. Then I’ll feast on you again.”
And then he left.
He fricking walked out on that line.
The bastard.
“First off, did you have some kind of radioactive spider or mosquito bite at some point in your life to give you way too many skills?” I asked. “Either that, or God was not making mountains or constructing sunsets when she made you. No, she was focused. Because this...” I looked at my plate. I made a kiss with my mouth and put my finger to it. Never had I made that gesture before in my life and it was awkward and embarrassing and totally fueled by my second glass of wine.
Time to recover before Duke could say anything. “Secondly, why are you in LA?” I asked after finishing my third bite of the ravioli Duke had cooked.
I hadn’t been able to speak for the first two bites because he’d cooked it.
From scratch.
Yes, this macho-man cowboy could make pasta from scratch. I’d already grilled him, tried to get him to admit that his mother had prepared it for him, but he promised it was all him. And Duke was a man who didn’t make a promise if he didn’t mean it.
I’d emerged from the bath clean and frustrated. The wine glass was empty, I’d drunk it trying to even myself out.
It almost worked, until I saw Duke at the stove, the table set for two, bottle of wine in the middle of the table.
He was so into his task he didn’t see me at first. Good thing too, since my reaction to this scene was visceral and terrifying.
After composing myself, I’d walked in, refilled both of our glasses, and listened to Duke’s order telling me to sit and watch.
It wasn’t exactly a tall order, watching a hot guy who I totally didn’t deserve cook me a romantic dinner.
Although I had experienced almost every sex act that could be experienced, I had never had a man cook for me. Not after my father, of course. I had blurry memories of pink plates, of smiles under moustaches, of the man feeding me.
That must’ve been the reason for my strong reaction to this whole scene.
“First question, I haven’t been bitten by anything radioactive that I know of,” Duke said, waiting until he’d finished chewing. “Also I don’t think God had anything to do with much. Just been raised by two strong women.” His eyes never left mine. “Second, my job’s in LA.”
“You know that’s not what I asked,” I said, trying to decide whether I really wanted more of the wonderful dinner or to consume as many pieces of information about Duke as I could. “This place, it is...magic, compared to the bullshit of LA. Your family is here. You suit it here. What made you want to make a living babysitting spoiled celebrities?”
He put his fork down, the teasing left his eyes. “I’ll say that babysitting spoiled celebrities has paid off big time.” A pause. I took another bite, because my famous self-control was failing me. Duke sipped his wine. “Also, that’s just a small part of what we do. Good for the image. Rakes in a lot of money. But the rest of it utilizes things I’m good at.”
He didn’t have to elaborate for me to understand what he meant. Dark shit. Messy shit. I didn’t know how messy or dark. Remembering the team, they’d all looked clean-cut, impressively attractive, and the offices were expensively appointed. Greenstone Security was one of the most reputable firms in the country.
But did I believe each of the men and women I’d sat at that table with were capable of illegal shit?
Totally.
“You’re good at being a cowboy,” I countered.
“Yeah,” he said. “Good at it ’cause it’s what I was born for, but life turned me into something different.”
“Why did you leave?” That was the big question. Plenty of boys left farms because of poverty, because of shitty parents, but this ranch had neither of those things.
Duke shrugged. “Would like to give you a valid reason, one that makes sense. But don’t have one, other than I was a stupid kid. Angry when I had no right to be. Bored. Thought I was meant for something more than this. Then September 11 happened. I felt it my duty, thought fighting for my country would be my calling.” Another pause. “War isn’t anything like they show you in the movies. People know that, because it’s the fucking cliché. But they don’t prepare you for how fucking boring it can be. Long stretches of nothing and short bursts of horror. It put everyone on edge, that kind of atmosphere, turned everyone into something different. Turned me into something different. Something useful for Uncle Sam. Then war did look like the movies, in all the worst ways.”