Page 2 of Fatal Thrill
Got New Year’s off. The whole weekend. Can we meethalfway?
A weekend with Jon—sexy, soft-spoken, Jon Wolfe. Damaged beyond what she could imagine, and yet offering the perfect way to kick off her new year and celebrate what landing a slot onThe Beauty Shopcould do for her business. She could afford to get her mom into a better place. Expand her product line. Keep her younger brother out oftrouble.
But then the weekend had gone down the toilet. They’d just shucked their clothes and Jon’s hands were on her breasts when he’d received a call from his boss, Beatrice. Even though he had the weekend off, he was still on-call.
From what Jaya had picked up on, the Rock Star boys werealwayson-call.
One of Jon’s coworkers had gotten sick at the last minute with the stomach flu and Beatrice needed Jon to take hisplace.
An important job playing bodyguard to a famous singer attending a New Year’s fundraiser for the Wounded Warrior Project in New York City. Jon didn’t tell her who the famous singer was—he never shared details—only that the gal was receiving an award for all her dedicated work helping veterans. The ceremony was being broadcast on television and they’d planned to watch it before Jon had gotten called toduty.
On one level, Jaya had been relieved. Her stomach had been all kinds of wonky and champagne held absolutely no appeal. On the other, her perfect kick-off for the New Year had been tainted by her never-ending badluck.
The O’Sullivancurse.
It’s the flu,she tried again to convince herself.Just like Jon’scoworker.
She sighed.Yeah,right.
The winter sun was fading fast. Jon had told her to stay at the hotel and enjoy the amenities—he’d already paid for an extra day—but spending New Year’s alone had only depressed her. Jaya’s brain couldn’t enjoy the fireworks on TV and she’d tossed and turned all night, missing Jon’s arms around her, his solid presence. That morning, her usual excitement over the parades had beenabsent.
She ached for his deep, rough voice, his touch setting her body onfire.
Jon was comfortable talking about subjects no other guy ever was, like Jaya’s mixed heritage, growing up on the rez, and the fight she’d had to make people see past her skincolor.
Most men loved her exotic mix of Irish and Native American genes, but few cared about the consequences it had brought her. Her Celtic roots, full of grifters and Gypsies, were just as important to her as her Native American upbringing inOklahoma.
NA rights were near and dear to her heart, but her outspoken political views turned most people off. Add in the facts that her mother had been an herbalist who’d taught Jaya everything she knew, and her dad was a treasure hunter, and well, the world had plenty of ugly labels for her. People wanted her to look pretty and keep her mouthshut.
Jaya sighed. She never kept her mouthshut.
Except rightnow.
She gripped Kratos’ steering wheel tighter, knuckles going white. She’d named the van after the Greek God of strength and power when she’d bought him. He’d been a broken-down hunk of junk but she had seen past the ugly green color, dents, and scratches. It took her a bit of time, but she’d transformed him into a thing of beauty and he ran like nobody’s business once she’d had a friend fix theengine.
But there were some things she couldn’tfix.
I have to tell Jon. I should turn around, head toDC.
Leaning forward, she rested her head on the steering wheel, logic arguing against the idea. She didn’t even know for sure yet. IUD failure was slim, and it wasn’t like she had experience with pregnancy. Her periods were always wacky, and she rarely kept track since life was always one fire to put out after another. This could be a fluke. No sense in starting the crazy-train rolling until she had definitiveproof.
Straightening, a small amount of hope taking root, she shut off the van and bailed. She’d have a pee, grab some crackers from the vending machine, and give herself a moment tothink.
As she marched inside the building, she focused on her list of all the things she had to get done for the official launch of Cherry Bomb onThe Beauty Shop. There were a hundred little jobs to do and not much time to do them. She had a crack team of two assistants, but they were going to feel the pressure over this as well. If she were smart, she’d hire extra help. Too bad there was no budget forthat.
Her inner voice would not leave her alone even while she was peeing, reminding her that if herviruswas actually something else, all bets were off. The next step in her career—the one she’d slaved away at for the past seven years—might take adetour.
A baby. Was itpossible?
One thing was for certain. She would either be birthing a new company or a baby in the comingmonths.
Jaya touched her lower belly as she examined the vending machines, looking for something to soothe her irritable stomach. Scanning for crackers, she spotted her favorite candy bar. The one her dad had always brought her when he returned from one of his “adventures.” While she had no appetite for it or the past, seeing it made her miss him and her crazy-ass family all themore.
The unnerving memory of Jon saying he never wanted kids surfaced. The day after Thanksgiving, Black Friday, they’d briefly talked about Christmas and their childhoods. Or rather, she told him some abouthers.
He didn’t talk about his, especially his father, but he loved his mother deeply and had mentioned how she ran a dog rescue. Jaya’d immediately recognized a fellow DFS—dysfunctional family survivor. Only she had a feeling Jon’s DF was even worse than the one that had spawnedher.
Dragging in a restorative breath, she squared her shoulders, noticing her reflection in the glass. Her face was ashen, circles under her eyes. She needed to rehydrate, plaster on some under-eye cream, and get somesleep.
