He carried her to the family room, sat on the couch, putting her in his lap. He twisted them and took them down so they were stretched out and he had her trapped against the back, his body mostly on hers.

He knew she didn’t feel trapped. She wanted more. And he knew this because she burrowed into him and held on tight.

Jake stroked her hair as he whispered, “Shh, baby.”

Her body bucked and she hiccupped, pressing deeper.

“Shh, Josie. Get a handle on it. Man who talks that way to you is not worth this.”

She pulled her face out of his neck, trained her wet eyes on him and cried, “But he’s my friend!”

He shook his head. “He’s a shit for brains dick who didn’t have the balls to work for what he wanted but does have the balls to be pissed at you for not giving it to him. He’s not your friend. He’s an asshole.”

She didn’t agree or disagree. She was in her own head and probably not listening to a thing he said. He knew this when she went on and did it loudly.

“It’s ridiculous for him to say he loved me. He hit on women right in front of me.” She paused before she said, nearly in a shout. “Successfully! At least I was discreet!”

He did not want to discuss her being discreet. He actually didn’t want to be doing this at all.

But she was lying on her couch pressed to him and not running after that asshole.

And she needed him.

So he was going to do it.

Jake slid a hand to her jaw and dipped his face close. “You seriously didn’t know he was into you?” he asked gently.

“Absolutely not,” she snapped.

“Lydie did.”

She stopped crying abruptly as well as nearly shouting and blinked. “She did?”

“Didn’t want him for you.”

Her eyes got wide. “She didn’t?”

“No, baby. A man whose play for over twenty years was to try to make you jealous enough to make your own play?” He shook his head. “Fuck no. Lydie liked him as a person, as your boss, but she did not want him for you. She knew the guy who got in there with you had to give a shit enough to do the work because she knew you’re worth the effort.”

Her lips had parted, her eyes got big again and she stared.

Then, thank fuck, it dawned.

He saw it on her face and he knew it when she repeated quietly, “Give a shit enough to do the work.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, wrapping both arms around her and sliding under her so she was mostly on top. “’Cause you’re worth it,” he finished.

She stared down at him for a long time before he felt her body relax, saw her eyes warm and her face get soft.

Then she declared, “I need a Kleenex.”

He grinned up at her, giving her that move, allowing her to change the subject because he knew she needed it. Then he asked, “Where are they?”

She looked to the side, murmuring, “Coffee table.”

He looked that way, spotting the box. Then he knifed up, taking her with him, arranging her on his lap. He leaned forward and reached out an arm. He pulled more than one out, leaned back and handed them to her.

Delicately, like she was wiping her face and blowing her nose in front of the Queen of England, she took care of business. When she was done, she looked around self-consciously, obviously not sure what to do with her used tissues, this reminding him that pretty much all the time she was totally fucking cute.

He took them from her and she bit her lip as she watched him throw them on the coffee table.

She stopped biting her lip when he lifted both hands to frame her face and her eyes came to his.

“You good?” he asked.

“That was unpleasant,” she said by way of answer.

“It was, Slick. But you good?”

“I’ve no idea what my future will bring, primarily employment, and it will be quite devastating to lose Henry, which after that scene it seems I will. But regardless, he means something to me,” she stated.

After that bullshit in the foyer, Jake didn’t agree. Then again, maybe if given time, she’d see it for the bullshit it was and come around to his way of thinking.

“So you’re saying you’re not good,” he guessed.

“No, Jake, I’m not good,” she confirmed then took a deep breath before going on. “What I am is in dire need of coffee and I’ve found a toothbrush still in its packaging. I’m not looking forward to football but I am looking forward to seeing your home and spending the day with you and your children so I’ll think about Henry tomorrow.”

He smiled at her, sliding his hands from her head so he can wrap his arms around her. “Good plan.”

“Since I’m down here, I’ll make coffee,” she offered.

“I’ll accept that,” he replied and tightened his arms around her, bringing her closer, his eyes dropping to her mouth. “After you kiss me.”

He saw her lips part before he watched them coming his way. He felt her hands glide up his arms and around his neck as he dropped his head to give her better access.

She took it, her mouth opening under his and she gave him her tongue.

The second he got it, he sucked it deeper.

When he did, she pressed closer.

Feeling that, he took over.

To do that best, he dropped her back to the couch and covered her.

This meant coffee was further delayed seeing as he liked her mouth, he’d waited a while to have it and he was in the mood to take his fill.

Josie was in a similar mood.

So they made out on her couch in her house, the couch that used to be Lydie’s in the house that Lydie had given her granddaughter.

It was a long time after they were done, when they’d had coffee, he’d made her eggs and toast and he was waiting not very patiently in the kitchen for Josie to get ready to take on the day, when he thought that Lydie would like that.

All of it.

And she’d like it a fuckuva lot.

Chapter Fourteen

I’d Give Him the World

I stood in Jake’s kitchen, my hips to the counter, Jake standing very close in front of me, his eyes holding mine, his hand wrapped around the side of my neck, my hand wrapped around my mobile which he’d slapped into my palm five seconds earlier and said one word, “Mick.”

I did realize that I had to call Mickey, of course. I hadn’t forgotten.

However, Jake behaved very patiently and his usual kind and wonderful after that horrible debacle with Henry (about which I refused to think for my first reaction might have been tears but after he said the crass things he’d said and the way he spoke to me, so far my second, third, fourth and fifth reactions were wanting to throw something—my sixth was wanting to throw something at Henry).

Jake had then been more of his usual kind and wonderful, acting like we had all day to embrace (in other words snog, and very pleasantly) on the couch and after, making me a delicious breakfast of poached eggs on toast.

Jake’s patience clearly ran out after that and I knew this when I was swiping mascara on my eyelashes upstairs and I heard him bellow from downstairs, “How much longer, Slick?”

Yes.

Bellow.

Up the stairs!

It wasn’t like he was a stranger to my bedroom. He’d been in there even before we were lovers.

At his bellow, I took my mascara wand and tube with me and walked all the way to the landing, which was half a flight down.

There, I saw him at the bottom of the stairs.

“You ready?” he asked the instant he saw me.

“If you’d like to ask me a question, Jake, you are more than welcome to come to my room and ask it rather than shouting it up the stairs.”

His lips twitched and he stated, “I take it that means you’re not ready, you’re feelin’ in the mood to be uppity and tell me off and do it wastin’ time you could be using to finish getting ready.”

“Yes, indeed, I’m not ready but what I’m attempting to do right now is educate you about the fact I do not like to be bellowed at,” I informed him.