Badd Business Read online

  We soon found ourselves in the cafeteria, pouring no-so-great coffee into paper cups, Juneau adding cream and sugar to hers. I drank mine black, out of long habit. She also grabbed a pastry from the case, while I stuck to just the coffee. We headed, in unspoken unison, to the register. Before Juneau could dig her wallet out of her purse, I handed a ten to the cashier.

  “I’ve got this,” I said to the cashier.

  Juneau eyed me warily. “Thanks?”

  I took my change from the cashier and shoved it into my pocket. “You’re welcome?” I replied, mimicking her questioning tone of voice. “Why is it a question?”

  “You buying me my coffee and a donut doesn’t make this a date.”

  I snorted. “Of course not.”

  “Glad we’re on the same page,” she said, heading to an empty booth along one wall.

  “It’s a pre-date,” I said.

  She slid into the booth and, instead of sitting opposite her like she was obviously expecting, I sat down beside her.

  “Um. Hi?” she said, inching away. “What are you doing over here on my side?”

  “This is more fun.”

  “More fun, huh?” She inched away a bit further. “So. What’s a pre-date?”

  I grinned at her and pinched off a bit of her donut, popping it into my mouth. “It’s where you decide if you like me, and want to go on an actual date with me.”

  “Oh.” She cleared her throat, moving her donut away from me. “If you want a donut, get your own. This is mine, even though it was bought with your money.”

  I laughed. “I don’t want a whole one, I just want some of yours.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “So what’s next? We fight over our food, or where to eat?”

  “Something like that. I’ll ask you where you want to go, and you’ll say wherever, you don’t care, and then I’ll suggest a place, and then you’ll shoot it down.”

  “And we do that until we’ve started fighting, and neither of us want to be on a date anymore.”

  “And then we’ll finally agree on somewhere but, because we got off to a bad start, when we finally go on the date everything is super tense, so we spend half the date in a tense, awkward silence.”

  She laughed. “The awkward, tense silence is only made worse by the fact that you can’t seem to hold my gaze and you being totally focused on my chest isn’t helping your case any. And because we’ve been fighting, there’s precisely zero chance of sex later.”

  I burst out laughing, because she’d caught me doing exactly that a couple minutes ago. “So I try to keep my eyes on yours, but your cleavage is so spectacular I just can’t help myself. It becomes this oddly funny thing, and you end up laughing at me, because I’m so helplessly attracted to you that you can’t help but be endeared by it.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not where I saw this going.”

  “No?”

  “No. Staring at my breasts, or anyone’s breasts for that matter, is never sexy, nor is having zero control over your own eyes or attention.”

  “If it’s of any consolation, Juneau, this behavior is totally involuntary,” I said with a shrug. “I’m like a moth drawn to a light. I know it’s going to get me zapped, but I can’t help it.”

  “Helplessly attracted?” she asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

  “Completely and utterly helpless.”

  “To me, or my breasts?”

  “To you, of course, and especially to your breasts which do not, in any way, resemble implants.” I hesitated for effect. “They are obviously all natural, and could never in a million years be mistaken as fakes.”

  “You’re an expert, I’m guessing?”

  I affected a posh British accent. “Obviously I am one of the world’s foremost experts on human female mammary glands.”

  She quirked an eyebrow at me. “Well, good to know. Is that on your resume?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Listen, Remington, we literally just met about thirty minutes ago. You’re talking as if you have already fantasized about me.”

  “To be honest, I have.”

  “What? You have? Really?” she asked.

  I nodded seriously. “I have. Really.”

  “I just know I’m going to regret this, but…do tell,” she said.

  I quirked an eyebrow back at her. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Absolutely. Hit me with it.”

  I covered my grin with a hand. “All right, Juneau. But remember—you asked for it, so you don’t get to call me a pervert for it.”

  2

  Juneau

  “Oh, I’ll probably call you a pervert for it anyway but honestly, I’m honestly curious. So, go ahead—do your worst.” I had a feeling I’d regret asking him, but curiosity was one of my greatest downfalls.

  A tendril of blond hair fell across his left eye, and Remington swept it back over his scalp with a casual swipe of his hand. God, that move was sexy.

  “Okay, well, here you go, then.” His gaze, once again, swept downward, hesitated, and then he met my eyes. His voice dropped low, and I had to strain to hear him over the din in the cafeteria. “You’d be wearing…well, not much. A scrap of lace here, a bit of silk there…”

  “Not naked?” I asked, pretending my heartbeat wasn’t pounding, or that my palms weren’t sweaty.

  “Nope. See, maybe I’m weird, but I’ve always maintained that a woman is sexier when she’s mostly naked instead of all naked. Stripping a woman to her skin is half the fun of sex, for one thing. And for another, having certain things hidden and obscured is just…sexy.”

  “Thus the skimpy lingerie,” I said. “Not all that weird.”

  “Exactly.” He filled the booth beside me, trapping me against the wall, and his heat and muscle were sucking all the oxygen out of my lungs. His eyes bored into mine, and it took all of my faculties to pretend I was just conducting research and not a red-blooded female completely affected by him.

  “Okay, so I’m wearing lingerie…” I prompted, proud of how casual I sounded

  His eyes raked over me yet again and this time, for some reason, I’m not offended but aroused. Usually when a guy ogles me so openly, I find it offensive. But this time it must be because I’m unable to take my eyes off him. I can’t stop staring at his rippling arms that stretch the sleeves of his shirt, or his chest bulging against the fabric…or the fold in his jeans that’s far too thick and bulging to be anything other than what I think it is.

  “You’re dancing for me,’’ he continued. “Moving, twisting, gyrating. And those big sexy tits of yours bounce and sway and jiggle all over the place, until they fall out of the lingerie.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Wow. Super original.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t say it was original, and remember, you asked.” He hesitated a long moment. “Plus, that’s the PG-13 version of the fantasy. I don’t think you really want to hear the X-rated version.”

  I swallowed hard. “You don’t think so, huh?”

  “No.”

  “Try me.” I wanted to slap myself, or pinch myself. What was I doing? Why am I goading him? Why am I sitting in this booth with him, having this conversation?

  Because it’s safe, that’s why—it’s just talk.

  I have no intention of letting this go beyond a pretend, silly, ridiculous conversation. Not with anyone, but especially not with him.

  “You’re sure about that, Juneau?” he murmured in my ear. “You really want to hear the X-rated version?”

  “I’m sure,” I whispered back.

  He hesitated. Looked around. Sighed. “Not here.”

  I frowned at him. “Not here? Why? There’s no one within earshot. And aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be unwilling to talk about this kind of thing in public?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, are you? We just met, after all. You could be an exhibitionist for all I know.”

  I stared at him. “Really? You really think so?”

 
He shrugged again. “Well, it’s possible. I mean, the majority of this conversation has been about your boobs, and it hasn’t exactly been low-key. Talking about my X-rated fantasy isn’t that crazy in comparison.”

  “I can guarantee you I’m not an exhibitionist,” I replied. “This entire conversation with you has been surreal. I never do stuff like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Have an R-rated conversation with a basic stranger.”

  “I’m not a stranger,” he reminded me. “I’m your roommate Kitty’s boyfriend’s identical triplet brother.”

  “That’s quite a mouthful, but you’re still a stranger to me. In fact, having this conversation with a random stranger would be less weird, honestly. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I should be under medical supervision.”

  Remington rumbled a laugh. “I’d like to think it’s less about you being crazy, and more about me being irresistible.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, whatever. You just keep thinking that.”

  They say the best place to hide something is in plain sight so, logically, the best way to keep him from suspecting the truth about how I’m feeling right now is to admit it, but make it sound super sarcastic.

  And I think it’s working.

  “Anyway. Back to the topic at hand, why not here?” I asked, glancing around the cafeteria.

  He kept his voice low. “Because I need to walk out of here in a second, and if I tell you, I’ll get a hard-on, and there’s no way in fuck I’m walking through this hospital with monster wood.”

  I felt myself blushing and I’m thankful, not for the first time since I ran into Remington in the hallway, that my complexion doesn’t show it. “Oh. It’s that X-rated?”

  He leaned against me, and his lips brushed my ear. “Let’s just say in this particular fantasy, you are totally naked.”

  “I see,” I murmured.

  “And you’re bouncing…”

  “Yeah—mmm-hmm. I’m still waiting for the X-rated part.” God, who am I, right now? Not shy, quiet Juneau Isaac, that’s for sure. This was some daring, brazen version of Juneau that I’d never met before.

  “You really want me to say it?” He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me up against his side, and I felt my breast being crushed against his chest. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Fine. I’ll say it.”

  Oh, man. I didn’t think this through. Why am I goading him? From what Kitty has told Izzy and me about Roman, these guys are not men to trifle with. “You don’t have to, you know.”

  “You want to know,” he murmured. “You’re not wimping out on me now, are you?”

  “I’m just saying, you don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.”

  His fingers danced along my ribcage, and then traipsed slowly upward until his knuckles brushed the underside of my breast. “Now I have to say it. And you know you’re curious.”

  “I can probably guess what you’re going to say.”

  “Oh yeah? Go for it.”

  I shook my head and laughed. “Not a chance. This is your fantasy.”

  “Chicken?” he said, and now he’s intentionally caressing the underside of my left breast with the knuckle of his index finger.

  I glared sideways at him, angling away from his touch, but I was pinned in the booth and there was nowhere to go. But part of me liked this, and I didn’t want him to stop. “I’m not chicken.”

  “Then tell me what I was going to say.”

  “We’re having sex,” I blurted in a whisper. “And I’m…bouncing.”

  His lips touched the outer shell of my ear, and his breath tickled, hot and close. “You’re bouncing on my cock,” he whispered. “That’s what I’m fantasizing about. You—sitting up in my bed, facing me, your arms around my neck, your thighs around my waist. You’re on my lap, and I’m fucking you as hard as I can, and those big, beautiful tits of yours are bouncing so hard…”

  “Remington!” I hissed.

  His ice blue eyes bored into mine. “You asked. I told you it was X-rated.”

  I pushed at him. “Let me out of here.”

  Suddenly I couldn’t breathe—I had to get air.

  He didn’t move. “Oh, come on. You asked!”

  I pushed harder. “Please. Let me out.”

  Reluctantly, he slid out of the booth. “See? I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t even look at him. Instead, I bolted from the cafeteria as quickly as I could without actually running.

  I found the elevator, ran inside, and then stabbed the button for the floor Remington’s dad was on. As I ascended, I leaned against the corner of the elevator, fighting for breath.

  Seriously—what the hell was wrong with me?

  That entire conversation was so far out character for me it wasn’t even funny.

  I’m more like Kitty—reserved, conservative. Unlikely to talk about sex even with my best friends, much less…whatever that conversation was.

  Filthy, inappropriate, ridiculous, and embarrassing—that’s what it was.

  I found the correct room, and entered to find Izzy and Kitty sharing a chair, listening to Remington’s father tell a story. An inappropriate one, from the sound of it. Apparently, the nurse’s orders to vacate the room so that Mr. Badd could rest had been ignored.

  “…Well, there I was, innocent as could be, mindin’ my own business, chattin’ at the bar with some drinking buddies. And this lady comes up to me, bold as you please, and suggests I buy her a drink. Now, I wasn’t plannin’ on buyin’ no drinks for no ladies—to be totally honest, I’s plannin’ on tyin’ on a hell of a hangover. It’d been a long as fuck week, and I’d barely had time to even think, and I needed to de-stress a little, you know? And, in the name of honesty, hookin’ up with a lady ain’t a great way to de-stress. Got it’s place in life, and I won’t even pretend I ain’t done my share of it—baby-makin’ is a lot of things, but relaxin’ ain’t one of ’em.” He shifted on the bed, wincing, his grizzled features betraying pain. “Anyway, bold as you please, she asks me to buy her a drink. Not bein’ one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I went along with it. I bought her a drink. Ain’t much I regret, but I regret buyin’ that bitch a beer. She was the goddamn craziest little slut I ever met, and I’m sorry if that offends you, but it’s nothin’ but the gospel truth.”

  Izzy laughed. “Why? What’d she do?”

  “What’d she do? What didn’t she do? First, you gotta know somethin’ about me: I may be a cranky, ornery, difficult old drunk, and I definitely ain’t on any list of folks gettin’ sainted anytime soon, but I ain’t ever intentionally, knowingly been the other guy, you know? I got some standards.”

  “She had a boyfriend?” Kitty asked.

  He laughed. “Boyfriend? She was married and had four kids! Wasn’t wearing a ring, wasn’t no tan line neither, and I looked.” He sighed, scrubbing the silver stubble on his jaw with a gnarled finger. “I bought her a drink, and she convinced me to walk her home. And, as you can prolly guess, one thing led to another, and I found myself balls-deep in a fine slice of lady.”

  “Dad!” Roman shouted.

  The elder Badd just shrugged. “Just tellin’ the story, son. And neither of these fine ladies seem too offended.”

  Kitty hid her face in Roman’s arm. “I’m not offended, but I’m not sure I needed to hear it quite that explicitly.”

  Izzy, predictably, was cackling hysterically. “Oh boy. This sounds promising. What happened then?”

  “What happened then was her husband came home.” Lucas indicated his left bicep, where a thin white scar sliced across the outside of his arm. “He shot at me. Thank god he was blind drunk, because he was point blank and still missed. Nicked me here, and left another scar across my ass cheek, which I won’t show you, but I was inches from having two ass cracks.”

  Kitty sighed. “And you learned your lesson, I’m guessing?”

  He chuckled ruefully. �
�Can’t say I did. Never been the brightest bulb in the room.”

  I turned to Izzy. “These Badd men are all alike,” I whispered, disgusted. “Always thinking about one thing.”

  Izzy frowned at me. “To be fair, it’s not just Badd men, it’s all men.”

  I shook my head with a sigh. “True.” I fidgeted with my handbag. “Look, I need to get back to Ketchikan. I’ve got work tomorrow and I’m supposed to be preparing for my bar ads.”

  “The hell you do,” Mr. Badd said, obviously having heard us. “We ain’t even met yet and you’re trying to skedaddle on me?”

  “No, I just—”

  “Unless you ain’t even here for poor ol’ me,” he said, glancing behind me with a mischievous twinkle in his deep-set brown eyes. “Think I may be a mite old and a touch out of shape for a cute little thing like you.”

  “Dad, quit flirting,” I heard a deep, rumbling voice from behind me say.

  I knew that voice. I shivered at the proximity of him.

  Mr. Badd just waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, go fly a kite, you big dumb humbug. I’ll flirt all I want. It’s about all I got left, especially being all but hogtied in this damn hospital bed.” He winked at me before continuing to address Remington. “Plus, I can’t help it—a pretty girl walks in, I’m gonna flirt with her. Too damn old and set in my ways to change now.”

  I stood beside Mr. Badd and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Badd. My name is Juneau. I really do hope you feel better soon.”

  “Juneau, huh? Pretty name for a damned lovely girl.” He hesitated, scratching at his silver stubble. “Which one of my lunkheaded boys pissed you off?”

  I frowned at him. “What? How did you—?”

  He chuckled. “Pretty girl walks into my hospital room—a pretty girl I ain’t met before, and she’s got a bug up her ass about somethin’—well, stands to reason one of my idiot sons did somethin’ dumb to piss her off. I know it ain’t Rome, ’cause I been workin’ on gettin’ li’l miss Kitty here to leave him for me. And judgin’ by the way Izzy is avoiding looking at Ram like he’s got the damn plague, it ain’t him.” He stabbed a finger at Remington. “Which means it’s you, Rem. What’d you do? Came on too strong, most likely.”