Street Game
Page 16

Both Mack and Kane scowled across the table at her fiercely, hoping to intimidate her. “Getting on in what years?” Kane demanded ominously.
Jaimie broke off a small piece of blueberry muffin, unconcerned with their threatening posture—after all, she had all the boys surrounding her and presumably they were there for her protection. “It’s a fact of life. Everyone has to come to terms with aging. One should take a few precautions.”
“A few precautions sounds like an excellent idea,” Kane grumbled. “Pitching you into the ocean might be a good start.”
“I thought we might take a walk over the Golden Gate this afternoon,” Mack suggested helpfully, in complete agreement.
“You two have a disturbing penchant for violence,” she chided. “Perhaps you should see a shrink. I noticed it way back in high school. All those contact sports, football, boxing, fencing, karate.” She shook her head mournfully. “Violent.”
“We had a little vamp to protect,” Kane defended. “We had to be prepared.”
“I beg your pardon?” Icicles dripped from her voice. There was a distinctly regal look about her.
“She was never a vamp,” Mack disagreed. “But you were a beautiful innocent and every wolf for a hundred miles was stalking you.” There was a caressing note in the deep timbre of his voice. “We had to keep a close watch.”
Jaimie burst out laughing, the sound turning heads. “You’re crazy. The two of you obviously have a far different memory of our past than I do.”
The two men exchanged easy grins. “You never did see things you didn’t want to.” Kane was pleased with himself; it wasn’t easy diverting Jaimie when she was off on one of her tangents on nutrition. There was no way she hadn’t noticed the rest of the team infiltrating the restaurant to protect her. He knew she loved them all; she’d grown up with them, so she was happy to see them, but she didn’t like what they represented—violence, a way of life, the very thing she’d worked so hard to get out of. He wanted her happy, teasing, that carefree laugh and bright eyes to remain for as long as possible.
“Eat your steak, Kane,” Jaimie advised.
“Notice how she changes the subject when it gets a little hot?” Mack asked, his black gaze suggesting all sorts of wicked, sinful things.
Her stomach did that slow, familiar roll that Mack had been causing in her for far too long. She didn’t see how she was going to be able to let him live in the same house with her, seeing him every day. It wasn’t just that she found him sexy as hell;
she liked him. She liked his humor and the way he could laugh at life.
“I’m eating, Mack,” she said trying to sound prim instead of desperate.
He had a gift of being able to focus just on her and no one or nothing else. He was doing it now, looking at her as if she were the only person in the world. Before, she had believed she was special and he saw no one but her. Now she knew better. She knew that focused stare was an amazing illusion. He saw everything in the restaurant, knew where every single person was seated and what they were wearing. He probably knew what they were eating.
She glanced down at her plate, suddenly not hungry again. She ached for him.
Ached for their lost relationship.
He reached across the table and took her hand, his thumb sliding over the sensitive part of her wrist. “I don’t think that’s called eating.”
“Well, stop looking at me that way. There is nothing sexy about eating, and you’re looking at me like . . .” She made the mistake of looking up at him, of meeting his eyes, and just trailed off.
He smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Sure there is, the way you eat.”
He leaned toward her and brought her hand to his mouth, closing his lips around the tips of her fingers, his teeth gently nipping and scraping. Heat seared through her like a flash. All at once, the booth was far too small, the room too warm.
She jerked her hand away, uncaring that he knew just how he affected her. “You have sex on the brain, Mack. Get your runaway hormones under control.” Jaimie said it looking as schoolmarmish as possible.
Kane choked on a mouthful of orange juice, turned slightly red, and looked surreptitiously around. “Jaimie!” He sounded shocked and lowered his voice, nearly whispering. “I can’t believe you said ‘sex’ or ‘hormones’ in public.”
She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t blast him for trying to eat my hand in front of everyone.” Her gaze swept the restaurant. Several of the men were snickering between bites of food. “Why didn’t you just invite them all to sit with us? Maybe we could walk down the street like a solid wall of testosterone.”
Kane choked again, spewing food into his napkin. “If I don’t want you to say S-EX, I certainly don’t think you should be saying that. Sheesh, woman. You’ve lost all sense of decorum since you’ve been on your own.”
Jaimie laughed. “You’re such a prude, Kane. I can say ‘prude,’ can’t I?”
“I’m not a prude,” he objected. “It’s just that there some things you don’t go talking about in public.”
Mack burst out laughing. “I tried to tell you she was out of control. We’re going to have to take her in hand.” He shamelessly leered at her.
“Tell Mack there are things you don’t go doing in public,” she replied hotly.
“I didn’t see a thing,” Kane defended piously.
Jaimie shrugged her slender shoulders nonchalantly. “Just for that, you two can fight over the check. Come on, I’m finished.” She tossed her napkin on the table and stood up.
“Jaimie.” Mack groaned. “Have a heart. We’re not finished.”
“I can’t help it if you’re slow eaters and fast talkers,” she replied sternly.
“You had a blueberry muffin,” Kane pointed out. “We had man-sized meals.”
“ ‘Had’ is the operative word here. It’s indecent and very bad manners to lick your plate.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll meet you at the furniture shop.” She half turned.
Mack’s hand snaked out with the speed of a striking cobra, and shackled her fragile wrist, preventing movement. “We’re finished, honey, don’t be in such a hurry.” His thumb feathered across the sensitive skin of her inner wrist, sending little fingers of flames licking up her arm.
He was looking at her. She could clearly see that, focusing on her the way that always made her feel special, yet he gave an almost imperceptible nod and Brian and Jacob immediately rose and walked to the counter to pay their tab. They exited the restaurant without even glancing her way.
Jaimie felt the punch in the region of her belly. “You know, Mack,” she hissed softly between clenched teeth as she twisted her wrist, tried to pull free. “You don’t need to flirt with me to do the job. I’m smart enough to know what needs to be done.”
Mack tightened his grip, his thumb stilling over the pulse beating so frantically there. He got to his feet slowly, lazily, his arm sliding around her waist, drawing her to his side. “You aren’t going anywhere without me.” As an afterthought Mack added, “Without us.”
Jaimie set her jaw, but stopped struggling. It was useless drawing attention to them. It wouldn’t make Mack stop. “I wasn’t really going without you. I’m well aware you’re worried about someone coming after me. You don’t know me anymore, Mack. Don’t treat me like the child you used to know.”
Mack crowded her body just a little with his own. “I know you better than you know yourself. I know you better than your own mother did.”
“That’s not hard. Poor Mama didn’t know a thing about me except that I was too smart for my own good.” Jaimie briefly closed her eyes, thinking of her mother.
Unwed pregnant teenager, boyfriend and family deserting her. The doctors, excited about her exceptional year-old child. Stacy Fielding had adored her baby girl, wanted something better than a life of waiting tables, and she’d struggled hard to give her a different life. Jaimie always wished she’d been one of those girls that had been ultrafeminine and giggly, instead of the serious, studious child she’d been. Her mother deserved that.
“You miss her, don’t you?” Mack dropped money on the table for the tip while Kane made his way up to the counter to pay the check.
“Of course I miss her. She had such a tragic life.”
She turned away from his comfort, that part of her that was still a child mourning her mother’s death unable to accept solace from him. Every morning she’d woken up and known she was facing another day without Mack. Now he was there and she felt more alone than ever. There had been Mack and Kane and her mother before Mack had brought her home to his mother and introduced her into his circle of friends. The boys had accepted her because Mack and Kane had. Now either everyone was gone or she’d lost that closeness with them.
After leaving Mack, she had learned to cope on her own. She didn’t want Mack coming back into her life with false promises and letting her lean on him. The memories of her childhood, good and bad, came flooding back with him. And the year she’d spent believing he loved her and wanted her for his wife, for the mother of his children. She’d lost her mother in the worst, most horrific way, and he knew she craved stability. But, when she’d gone to him and pleaded with him to give her what she needed, he’d been arrogant and aloof, pointing out her failings as a GhostWalker.
Telling her he was committed to the program and wouldn’t have time or energy right then for a family.
Her throat closed at the memory. She couldn’t think about her mother, and she didn’t want to think about that last parting with Mack. They were together now for a short time, not under the best of circumstances, but she was determined to have a good day with them.
Mack slipped his arm around her shoulders in a gesture of comfort and she allowed herself to be led from the restaurant, sandwiched between the two men. Once on the street, he dropped his arm, stepping to the side of her.
“Keep moving, honey,” he ordered. “We studied the route from here and we can walk on the same side of the street all the way down. Stay between us. You know the drill.”
“You look like overzealous bodyguards,” she complained. It seemed natural to have one on either side of her, a leftover habit from childhood.
“We’ve been guarding your body for as long as I can remember,” Mack said with a teasing grin.
They joined the throng moving busily from block to block. Somehow the crowds seemed to part, the two men never once allowing anyone to so much as casually brush against her. She moved forward, aware that Jacob and Ethan were behind her. Her mind just did that—expanded and positioned the people around her.
The weather was cool and a bit misty, the fog gray and gloomy, but already clearing with a promise of a nice afternoon. She enjoyed being able to move through a bustling, crowded street free of pain, taking in the sights and buildings without the mind-numbing information that always crowded into her head. Mack and Kane gave her that freedom. Most of the time she spent locked away from the world. It had taken months to find Joe, a man she could work with without the psychic backlash that was so debilitating with most people. There were a few rare people that had natural shields and she’d worked hard, interviewing nearly three hundred applicants before she’d found him.
Something odd fluttered into her mind, pushed aside the warm happiness, leaving a sudden cold fear. She snuck a long, slow look around her, making certain to stay in step. She kept her same facial expression, her body language the same.
“What is it?” Mack’s voice was low.
He’d always been so tuned to her. It was strange. When he appeared to be paying the least attention, he caught everything, the smallest nuance. When he appeared to be wholly focused on her, he was completely aware of his surroundings.