Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [47]
“‘Something wrong with the deranged jukebox?’—he asks hopefully,” Jago queried.
“I gave it the morning off.”
He laughed aloud, an infectious sound. “Wonder why.”
Sam poked his head through the open space. “Hey, Jago, I fed your cat chicken for lunch. Hope that’s okay with you.”
“My cat?” A question lit Jago’s eyes.
Asha pointed to the glass porch, where the black kitty stood waving his paw. “I’ll just add the chicken on your tab.”
“Oh, I get it. He belongs to The Windmill and is trained to go around mooching, then you add his meals on the tab. Neat way to pad the bill.”
Asha chuckled. “Sorry, you’re not getting out of it so easy. You’re the one who came dragging him in. He’s your cat, Charlie Brown.”
“What would I do with a cat? I have apartments in New York and London,” he replied.
She shrugged, hoping to sound casual. “Maybe you should consider settling down somewhere. A cat needs a good home.” Asha tried to meet his stare, but those green garnet eyes bore into hers, seeing all. She knew, though she’d tried to make the suggestion sound playful, that it had come across as an expression of her hunger.
Idiot! She mentally kicked herself. A man like Jago Fitzgerald wasn’t interested in a home, kids and kitty cats. He was sex and sin. Oh, he would be open to a passionate affair with all the trimmings, and despite her vow never to trust a pretty man again she wanted all those hot, sleepless nights, lost to the glory of their bodies. But that’s all it ever would be. Take him as he is, what he offered and be thrilled with that much, she told herself.
Then why did she see everything in his eyes? Tomorrows. Children, fat cats and SUVs. Jago would fit so well with her house on the river. Feeling ridiculous for painting such images in her mind with a man she barely knew, she almost fled when he offered her a grin.
“Yeah, maybe I should consider settling down,” he said. “Any ideas where me and the cat might find a good place to plant roots?”
She swallowed hard, struggling for a reply. Daring to hope opened one to all sorts of pain; she knew that only too well.
Sam saved her by announcing, “Breakfasts are up.”
Jago motioned to Derek. “Why don’t we move to the table, then we can finish our business?”
“Sure thing.” The redheaded man nodded, and climbed off the stool to collect the meals.
Asha echoed, “Business?”
Derek grinned. “Yeah, Jago is buying the Shelby. We took it for a test drive this morning to prove that it lives up to my praise.”
She wasn’t sure why the deal bothered her, but it did. Like a slap in the face, it was a chilly reminder of why Jago was really here. All her dreams of what might be vanished as the trepidation settled in her stomach. “You’re buying his Shelby?”
Jago nodded, his eyebrow arched, saying he sensed her shift in mood. “Yes, I just have to write a check.”
“Warming up? You’re chafing at the bit to buy the horse farm, so you wile away your time keeping the skills sharp with Derek?” That would teach her to fantasize about a stranger. It just proved she didn’t want to have the babies of a bloody developer!
“Whoa, lass! Off on a tangent again before you have all the facts.” His tone was chiding, though he gave her a half-smile.
“Ease up, Asha. He bought the car at the price I asked and then some. You know what that money means to me. He’s my faery godfather.” Derek glanced uneasily to Jago and then back at Asha. “You should kiss the man instead of taking a bite out of his ass.”
Jago’s eyes danced. “Oh, she’s welcome to take a bite of my arse anytime she fancies—or kiss me. I’m game for either.”
Asha knew she had overreacted, but had a hard time shifting into reverse gracefully. She stuck her tongue out at him. “Bah, humbug.”
He picked up the Halloween witch doll from the counter and wiggled it in front of her face. “Wrong holiday, lass.”
Feigning disinterest in the two men as they ate, Asha went back to hanging decorations. The dishes were soon shoved aside, Jago took out his checkbook and Derek pulled a piece of paper from his pocket that looked like a title to a car. With a grin,