She grimaced. “That’s mighty presumptuous of you. And, like I said, this isn’t any of your business.” She got up on her feet then. Her high heel echoed against the bright, mosaic stone floor. “Where’s my aunt?”
“Great aunt.”
“I’m well aware of our relationship to each other. Where is she?”
“She’s at the park, playing checkers with her friends. She usually comes back around four and makes tea.”
She mumbled, “I hope she has rum for the tea.” She hefted her carry-on and roller bag and walked out of the room.
He had to fight himself to keep from grabbing her bag and carrying it up the stairs for her. And then he had to fight his hard-on again when she turned around. She might be lean, but her ass was to die for. His heart picked up at the thought of palming it, and an image of her mouth, wide with the shock of taking him inside as he grabbed both half-globes, took him over for a split second. Not even her grumbling something about being a gentleman stopped him from thinking about what she’d look like naked and wanting him.
He did not have time for this shit.
Chapter 2
Carla had never liked being pushed around by a guy—in bed or out. Why did it turn her on when he yelled at her? Jonah Kane was definitely the kind of guy who would push her around. He looked like he’d hold her down and maybe bite. And—surprisingly—she’d like it.
He was nothing like Geoff, and she was pretty sure that was why she was insta-attracted to him. Geoff was mild-mannered and—to be honest—dorky. Carla had liked that about him after the string of fuckboys she’d dated after college. Geoff had listened to her, treated her like what she had to say was important, like her aspirations were worthy. He’d wanted the same things—a home, a social life like her parents had, and lots of babies.
At least, until he hadn’t.
So many people—her sister, her brother, her mom—had questioned her choice of fiancé, and she’d blown them off. Marrying Geoff, who’d worked for her father’s company, had been the one way she could contribute to its future. Her parents had always made it clear that she was generally a debit on the family ledger, that paying for her to go to college wasn’t the same kind of investment that sending her sister and brother to prestigious institutions was. She had no talent for math or any real business sense. She’d given away enough design advice to pay herself a salary for a year, but there wasn’t any need. She might not be doing anything to earn her trust fund, but she used it just the same.
Once she got into the bedroom she’d used when visiting Lola with her brother and sister a few years ago, she carefully unpacked her dresses, placing them on hangers in the small wardrobe. If it had just been family, she wouldn’t have considered changing her clothes. If Jonah wasn’t so—gah—handsome, she would have put on worn-out jeans and hunted for her great aunt’s stash of rum before Lola returned from her checkers game. But, because she wanted to feel like she was wearing her armor, she reapplied her makeup and put on a dress before returning downstairs.
Jonah hadn’t moved far. His big body was straining the wood fibers of one of the chairs while his arm curled around a book. She hadn’t put on shoes and loved the feel of the cool stone of the steps against her skin. It was remarkable how cool this old house stayed even without proper air-conditioning. It was well built, and she appreciated that.
Not wearing shoes felt especially like a mistake as she approached Jonah. If he stood up, he’d dwarf her with his size. The idea excited her more than she would ever admit aloud.
She walked through the sitting room to the heavy wood cabinets lining the wall. She opened three before she found what she was looking for. Some ice, a lime, and a glass, and she’d be in business.
“Kind of early to be drinking, isn’t it?” She turned to find him right behind her.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “I would say it’s a free country, but it’s not. Still, the last I heard, the regime did not prohibit drinking before five.”
“You’re one of those ‘ladies who lunch,’ aren’t you?” Jonah extended his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles, making his thigh muscles pop out. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about his quad muscles? They were exceptional, but they weren’t even the best-looking thing about him. His face had that covered. “You need to start drinking around noon just to get through your afternoon shopping.”
Carla’s face heated, and her heart beat faster. She could feel it thumping as she replied. “I don’t know who the fuck you think I am, but you have no right to talk to me that way.” She adjusted her grip on the rum bottle, ready to bring it into the kitchen. “I’m not sure what I did to piss you off, but you are way out of line.”
She lifted her nose and started to walk out of the room. Before she made her escape—and got the last word—he was behind her. He wasn’t touching her, but she could feel the heat emanating from his body all the same. She smelled the minty soap he used, worn down by a hint of sweat.
If he wasn’t such an asshole, jumping Jonah would be a perfect—and convenient—way to get over Geoff. She could have just gotten right under all of Jonah’s glorious muscles. But, for some reason, he’d decided that he hated her on sight. And he was wrong about her. She had a glass of wine at a charity lunch here and there, but, until a few months ago, she’d been rehearsing to be the perfect housewife and mother. She’d done that for a year. She hadn’t gone out; she’d always had a home-cooked meal ready when Geoff got home from work. Hell, she’d looked through his Internet search history to find his favorite porn. Although she wasn’t a busty blonde, she had enough expensive lingerie to be a less-than-completely-flat-chested redhead if she needed to be.
Still, she had nothing to show for it. Everything she’d been trying to do for the past few years to prove she belonged in her family was worthless. She was worthless. And now this guy wanted to pick at that scab.
“I can talk to you anyway I want, princess.” His words came out with gusts of breath that she could have sworn moved the hair at the back of her head.
“Sure you can,” she hissed. “But you can’t expect me to stay here and listen.”
She walked out, ego bruised but her head held high.
* * * *
Jonah clenched and unclenched his fists after she walked out of the room. That little bit of fluff had a steel core, and she was going to drive him all the way crazy. She was his worst nightmare, but he wanted her despite himself.
That’s why he’d thrown out those biting words, which he’d immediately regretted. He needed her to stay away from him. And he needed to make sure she wasn’t here to hurt Lola. He knew her type—the kind that would do anything or hurt anyone in order to get what she wanted. He might want to fuck her, but she wasn’t the kind of girl who would let it go at a fling. No, the pretty, pretty princess would want forever, something he never had any intention of giving anyone.
The front door opened, and Lola came through. “Hola, mijo.” She always called him “her son” in Spanish, which warmed a part of him that didn’t usually feel the light of day. His own mother had barely been around while he was growing up—too busy working. Maternal concern for anything other than his grades and whether he’d brushed his teeth was foreign to him. “Has Carlita arrived?”
“Yeah, she’s in the kitchen.” He pointed to the door Carla had just walked through. “I couldn’t stop her from getting into the rum.”
Lola’s laugh was more of a bark. “Be nice to that girl.” She shook her finger in the general direction of his face—not very threatening considering she was about four foot nine. “The idiot she was engaged to broke up with her, and she’s here for tender, loving care.”
“She said she was here to give you something.”
Lola