The Beast in Him Page 37
Jess paced away from him, too angry to even appreciate his loft apartment with the big, comfortable furniture. A place like this, with its exposed brick and tons of space and light, didn’t come cheap. Apparently business was damn good for Llewellyn and Smith Security.
“I’m only annoying you ’cause you like me.”
“I do not—”
“Now, don’t lie, Jessie Ann.”
“I don’t lie.” Unless absolutely necessary.
“We both know you want me.”
“We both... what?”
“You want me. It’s okay. I totally understand the need.”
“There is no need. There’s only my hate for you.”
“Again with the lyin’. Look,” he said slowly, carefully, “if it makes you feel any better, I guess I’m of the same mind.”
She stared at him. “You... You guess you’re of the same mind?”
“You know me. I don’t rush into these kinds of decisions—hey! Let’s be calm here.”
She wasn’t. Not anymore. He’d snapped her leash again. How did he manage to do that? How could one man piss her off that much?
“Don’t even think about it, Jessie Ann,” he warned.
Jess held up a half-filled bottle of warm beer she’d grabbed off a side table. “The name is Jess-i-ca!” And that’s when she let that beer bottle fly at Smitty’s head. He ducked, the bottle barely missing him.
“Jessie Ann,” he said smugly, taunting her, “you’re simply proving what I already know. Can’t stop thinking about me, can ya?”
Her anger good and frothy now, she grabbed a glass off a side table and flung it at the giant target he had the nerve to call a head.
“Jessie Ann! Stop it right—hey!” He barely avoided a plaque with the Navy emblem on it. “Dammit, woman! I nearly died to earn that plaque.”
“If only!” She grabbed blindly.
“Whoa!” A coffee-table book on the history of the Navy nearly took his ear off.
“You said you wanted to talk, you asshole! So let’s talk!” she yelled, grabbing a vase of dying flowers. “What are you going to... to... ”
“Oh, Lord.”
And that’s when the sneezing started.
It came on so fast, all Smitty could do was grab the vase of flowers from her and quickly open his window and put them out on the fire escape. By the time he shut the window and turned back around, Jess was on her knees, the sneezes coming one after the other except when broken up by vicious coughing. Seemed nothing had changed. The girl had had bad allergies since he’d known her, and it seemed only worse now.
Crouching beside her, Smitty pulled the backpack off her shoulders and opened it. If she still operated the way she used to, he’dfind her “works” buried somewhere in this unbelievably overpacked bag. Sure enough, he found her pills, nasal spray, and inhaler in one handy pouch. With that in hand, he quickly got her out of her cumbersome—and damn ugly—parka and scooped Jessie into his arms, taking her into the bathroom. Placing her on the counter, he opened the pouch and first took out her pills.
“Here.” He put two pills in her hand and filled a cup with water. She popped the pills and he handed her the cup. She took a deep drink and then sneezed into the glass, water spraying back into her face.
“Dammit!”
“It’s okay,” he said, ordering himself not to laugh. He gave her the nasal spray after using a hand towel to quickly wipe off her face. “Use this.”
She did, and when done he handed her several tissues.
“Do you need your inhaler?”
“No, no,” she said around coughs. “That’s for when I actually fall into the flowers. Which I’ve done on occasion.”
Smitty grinned. “I know. I remember.”
She let out a rough laugh. “I thought Miss Hazel was going to kill me.”
“I think she wanted to. You know how she used to love her flowers.”
Jess blew her nose and nodded.
“You all right now?”
“Oh, yeah.” But she wouldn’t look at him, and her cheeks were a bright red.
Using a knuckle, he lifted her face up to meet his. “Jessie Ann? Are you crying?”
She smirked. “No, you bonehead. My eyes are watering. If you spent the last five minutes coughing up a lung, your eyes would be watering too.”
“Fair enough.”
He stroked her cheek with one finger. “Can’t you get allergy shots to help with that?”
Her appalled expression made him snort in surprise. “You’re still afraid of needles?”
“I think afraid is a bit of a loaded word.”
“I remember that year they had to inoculate us for something or other—”
“Distemper.”
“Right. Distemper.” He sure did love being canine. “And you just cried and cried. Like a baby. Did a lot for your reputation.”
“Shut up.”
On a whim, he lifted her hair a bit. “You still don’t have earring holes.”
She slapped his hands away. “I think I have enough holes in my head without adding to them, thank you very much.”
“So nipple piercing completely out of order?”
She scrunched up her face and he had the feeling she wanted to cover her breasts to protect them. “Don’t even go there!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he said on a laugh. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”