Love Me Anyway by Jennifer Probst

Chapter Three

Julianna paused at her keyboard,the mouse hovered above the send button. Nausea hit her belly but she knew there were no other options. This wasn’t nineteenth-century England and she didn’t belong in the ton. She had already used her father’s intricate network of social contacts to begin introductions to a number of eligible men, but no one seemed interested in a mousy woman with an old estate and nothing else. Many of the men she dated locally didn’t have enough funds to support a money suck like the Cliff House. The ones who did were past seventy, which placed them out of the running. She didn’t have the money to travel and meet new prospects. Therefore, there was one social connection she needed to use to further her plan.

The unlimited world of the Internet. Beyond the regular dating apps of swiping right or left, this website boasted social networking circles so tight-knit and secretive, it was more closely guarded than a sex ring. Her name was her entry. Many men needed to marry in order to secure companies, or meet a mate with certain specifications in order to claim their inheritance. Others needed an heir. The thought of a child made her heart ache with longing. And hope.

Her ad would be well received by the group and guarded in a private manner. Unfortunately, she had nothing to trade for. Except her name.

Her family came from a long line of aristocrats with royalty in the blood. Her people, among the first to settle Rhode Island, came from the old English gentry. In early American days, Newport had been a playground for the rich and famous, from the Vanderbilts to the Astors, and her family had taken a prominent place among them.

Julianna knew some people coveted all that. She counted on some man who liked the idea of a spouse with a family straight from The Great Gatsby. Even if her family was now gone. The past, she’d learned, always survived.

The site catered to men and women who needed to marry for specific purposes. Julianna’s face burned as she compared herself to a prostitute offering her services. Maybe the man would request breeding papers as evidence of her birthright. The bitterness leaked through yet again, and tempted her to consider selling the Cliff House. Walk away with her pride intact and money in her pocket.

“Promise me...”

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind. Her prison was also her haven. If she sold the house, she’d have nowhere to go. In the past, the lure of the unknown excited and tempted her to explore the world and find who she really was.

Now, the thought made her quake with terror. Here, at least, she was safe. Her family memories burned bright within its walls, and if she left the house behind, she’d have nothing left of her past. Just a broken promise to her dying father.

The endless noose around her neck tightened.

Julianna uploaded her ad and the photo. A plain woman looked back at her, a forced smile on her lips. The specially created email address would receive any initial inquiries or questions before securing a meeting. Julianna took a deep breath and clicked the mouse.

Her fate was sealed.

A knock sounded on the door.

She hesitated, knowing Jack was working outside and having no desire to meet up with him. She now kept her distance from the sexy gardener who tied her tongue in knots and made her want to do very bad things. Things she’d craved deep in her soul for so long that she wondered if she’d be satisfied with any man.

She peeked through the window and faced the object of her obsession. Shirtless. Dirty. Sweaty.

Julianna flung open the door, annoyed at the interruption and determined to set him straight regarding their worker/employer relationship.

Then saw the blood.

He held up his hand, wrapped in his white T-shirt and stained muddy brown. His face looked almost sheepish. “Sorry, I had a bit of an accident. Can I use your bathroom?”

Julianna stepped aside and grabbed his hand. She quickly pressed the fabric over the wound and led him down the hall. “What did you do?”

“Made an ass out of myself.” She couldn’t help the tsking sound she made under her breath at his language—her father’s strict rules of propriety drilled into her from birth. But she fought off a bit of amusement at his temper. Evidently, he despised making mistakes that cost him blood. Too much blood, by the looks of it.

“Sit down.” She pushed him down on the closed toilet seat, quickly grabbed some washcloths and ran them under warm water. Julianna winced when she took the shirt away from the gaping wound. A clean cut crossed his hand, deep enough to warrant stitches from the looks of it. She dumped the shirt on the floor and began wiping away the dirt. “You may need a hospital.”

He shook his head hard enough to remind her of a little boy refusing to go to the doctor. “I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t use those cloths though—they’ll ruin.”

She shrugged at the delicate rose lace that adorned the towels and kept pressure on the wound. “I do laundry.”

“Yourself?”

Her brow lifted in annoyance. She concentrated on the task and not his curious stare. “I know how to take care of a house. I like my privacy.”

“Still, this is a pretty big house. And you don’t look like the type of woman to…clean.”

Julianna refused to take the bait. She couldn’t help her tendency to screen her face for a calm, emotionless façade. Lord knows, she’d learned her lesson along the way that temper tantrums or emotional outbursts did nothing to help matters. “Interesting. You don’t seem like the type of man who doesn’t know how to handle a mower.”

His rich laughter attacked, then soothed her eardrums. She reached for the brown bottle under the cabinet, determined he would never know how his laughter affected her. “Nice shot. I’m blaming it on the rental company. They gave me crap equipment to work with.”

“Hmmm. OK, this is going to sting.”

She poured a generous dose of peroxide into the gaping wound and felt his muscles strain against the burning pain. He cursed fluently under his breath and with a creative flair. Julianna kept her touch brisk and impersonal as she examined the wound, then retrieved the appropriate dressings and tape.

“Were you ever a nurse?” he asked. “You seem good at this.”

“No.”

“You don’t like to talk much about yourself, do you?”

She took out a large bandage and studied his hand to determine the placement. His skin was still warm from the sun—golden brown, and a bit rough. A callous rested on the tip of his finger. She fought back a primal urge to press her lips to his wound to soothe. The sizzling energy nipped at the nerve endings of her fingers and made her flinch. She answered his question so he wouldn’t notice her reaction.

“Not really. Let’s just say I received a fine education, then came back to take care of my parents.”

He seemed to wait for more but when she didn’t continue, he prodded. “But you teach. Poetry, right? A full professor?”

“Adjunct. I teach at the local college but never had the opportunity to get my PhD. I did my master’s degree online so I didn’t need to leave the house.”

“And?”

Round and round the tape wrapped around his wrist to hold the bandage in place. “And that’s it. My parents needed someone round the clock and I have no other siblings. I’m the end of the line.” A bit of bitterness leaked through her tone.

“What was wrong with your mom?”

“Manic depressive. She needed to be watched at all times and my father and I were in charge.” Julianna left out the rest. How her traitorous heart finally felt free to go explore and live her life when her mother finally passed. She’d done her duty as the good daughter.

Julianna dreamed of finally allowing herself the freedom to experience sexual ecstasy. Her body had been as tightly locked up as her mind and emotions, and she longed to immerse herself in pleasure. Of course, the night she packed her bags she’d discovered her father’s cancer. Another disease that wreathed and slithered like a snake—poisoning her father’s body and stealing her own freedom. She’d done the only thing left.

Julianna pretended she wanted to stay and take care of him, refusing to leave her father with a stranger to tend to his medical needs. The only money they had left was tied up in the estate. And, after all, she was good at taking care of people other than herself.

“Yet you’re still here.” His words were thoughtful, as if trying to solve a puzzle as she worked on his wound. “Your parents are gone now. Why not leave?”

The ultimate question. Asked yet not answered. The response tripped over her lips in a desperate attempt to escape. She strangled the words and let them die without a trace. “I don’t know.”

She tested the bandage and was satisfied. Her gaze lifted.

And collided with a full-sized predator.

His eyes were a dark stormy blue that reminded her of fierce ocean waves and endless blue skies. She sensed a woman could fall deep into such depths and lose herself; sensed those eyes could reflect passionate fire or cool ice. Right now, his gaze seemed to assess her story and challenged for the truth. “I don’t believe you. I think you know exactly why you’re still here.”

She retreated behind the familiar wall of distance, refusing to let the sexual heat between them melt her defenses. Julianna had one goal, and a gardener wasn’t going to distract her at this point. Her voice sharpened. “We’re done. You can go back to work.”

Carved lips kicked up a notch. His masculine energy pressed down upon her and she battled for her ground. “I think you’re so comfortable behind these walls you’ve given up on living.”

“Coming from a handyman with a Peter Pan complex.”

He laughed and shook his head as if in admiration. “Damn, love, you’re a bit of a spitfire all buttoned up tight. How long has it been since you let a man put his hands on you? Or in you?”

The image knocked out her breath. Her almost virginal body fought for dominance as liquid warmth pulsed between her legs and dampened her panties. Her nipples rose painfully against her bra and demanded freedom. Julianna crossed her arms in front of her chest to hide her reaction. “Oh, surely you can do better than that.” Her tone dripped icicles. “This is straight out of a book, Mr. Wolfe. Poor spinster locked up in a big old house meets sexy gardener who sets her body free. She’s forever grateful for the experience. Blah, blah, blah. Now, if you rather not get back to work, we will consider the job null and void and you can leave my home.”

“Ah, so you did read Lady Chatterly’s Lover?” he drawled. Slowly, he uncurled over six feet of muscled length and rose from the seat to tower over her. “D. H. Lawrence is one of my favorites. Course, I’m the gardener rather than the gamekeeper. And you’re forgetting the husband, which you don’t have. The rest is similar. Uneducated working-class man shows sexually deprived wife how to let go and be free to let her body experience pleasure.”

Jack paused. Then dropped his voice to a rough whisper that raked across her nerve endings like fingernails against naked skin. “Wanna play?”

Her heart pounded so loud her ears dimmed. “Excuse me?”

He laughed. In one swift movement, he reached out and snagged her wrist. Then tugged hard. Slightly off balance, she stumbled toward him, where he neatly caught her by the waist and trapped her between him and the sink. The edge of the marble dug into her back when she tried to retreat. Raw masculine energy assaulted her senses, the sheen of sweat on his bare chest, a mass of carved muscles pressed against the curve of her breasts. The scent of dirt and fresh grass and musk rose to her nostrils in an animal attempt to entice her to mate. Complete shock kept her still in his arms. When was the last time a man put his hands on her? Ever?

“Role-play, love. Do you know the things I could teach you? Give me one night and it’ll all be for you. I’ll strip you naked and suck on these nipples until they’re aching and ruby red.” His fingers tweaked one rigid tip and a streak of raw lust speared between her legs and almost made her moan. Almost. “I’ll pry your legs open and press my tongue against your clit, taste your wetness, and make you come so hard against my mouth you’ll only be able to utter my name.” That hand slid down the front of her body to cup her mound through her jeans. The heat of his palm burned and she jerked upward, her juices exploding and her clit pounding, as if she could orgasm just by the image of his tongue in her pussy.

But Julianna was not defeated.

She desperately reined her body in tight and managed to speak. “Take your hands off of me.”

“Ah, you’re a talker. I can tell by your eyes you like to hear the words, like a true poet. Let me tell you what I want to do right now.” He held her still and pressed his thumb over her lips in a rough caress. “I’m going to unbutton these jeans and rip off your panties. Turn you around so your naked ass is exposed. Then I’m going to bend you over, thrust inside your wet pussy and make you come so hard you cry my name like a prayer.”

The world spun. She fought like a maniac for some kind of reality, reminding herself he was a common gardener who was looking for a quick lay. Probably had a million diseases. Even worse?

It may be a pure pity screw just to amuse himself. She’d never allow her pride to take such a hit.

Schooling her features into a cool mask, her voice was flicked with ice crystals. “Mr. Wolfe, I want you to leave now.”

“God, you’re cute. Might as well call me Jack.”

“I will not be having sex with my newly hired gardener. I’m not that type of woman.”

His eyes danced with a merry wickedness that made her crave to slap him. “I think that’s exactly your problem. Obviously, you haven’t had an orgasm in a while. Probably why you’re so uptight. Nothing wrong with taking advantage of me while I’m here—I don’t mind.”

“Out. Now. Unless you want me to scream or call the police.”

“Okay.”

Her legs almost buckled with sheer relief at her victory, but then a full male grin transformed his face and he lowered his head. “I’d like to hear you scream. Don’t panic. I promise this won’t hurt a bit.”

Then his mouth took hers.

Julianna didn’t have a chance. It was the Alamo all over again. Warm, capable lips molded perfectly to hers and with one push, his tongue slipped into her mouth. Like a marauding pirate, he conquered and enjoyed his territory, his hot tongue thrusting in and out in a teasing game before he dove deep and claimed his treasure. She tried to move away but his fingers gripped the sides of her head in a gentle pressure and kept her still. Over and over he sipped and explored, learning her taste and texture, luring her deeper into a pool of sensation.

His hands coasted down from her head and dipped into the collar of her shirt to caress her breasts. A moan escaped her lips at the delicious sensation of hard male fingers against her sensitive curves. The fabric of her bra was pushed aside as his thumbs manipulated her nipples in a crazy friction that drove her mad. Her hips arched in demand, her control shredded, and her hands clutched at his naked shoulders and dug her nails deep into solid muscle.

“God, you’re a hellcat masquerading as a mouse.” He caught a whimper from her lips and kissed her deeply. “You’re practically burning up in my arms. Come with me.”

He pulled away, grabbed her hand, and began leading her out the door. To her bedroom.

To her bedroom.

Reality crashed back in and she cried out. Julianna lifted her hands in a half-attempted defense and took a few steps. “Don’t.”

He stopped in his tracks. Slowly turned around. Then cursed under his breath. “I knew I should’ve picked you up. I’m such an ass.”

“I can’t do this.”

One bleached brow lifted. “Why not?”

Julianna shook her head hard and breathed hard. Her body felt painfully irritated, desperate for sexual relief. In a matter of days, her careful barriers were destroyed over her desire for a quickie with a man she wanted but did not respect. The truth stumbled out of her mouth in her desperation for distance.

“There are things you don’t know. I can’t have an affair with someone right now. I’m looking for a serious relationship. I want to get married.”

That threw him for a second or two. “To anyone in particular?” he asked slowly.

“Not yet. But I don’t intend to have an affair when I may meet my husband tomorrow.”

Another hearty laugh escaped him that made her frown. “Love, you may not meet your husband for years. Are you going to lock your body in a prison until then?”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “I’m going to meet him soon and I can’t afford to be distracted.” She dug deep and threw her words like weapons. “You’re a nobody. A common gardener with a hard-on who probably bangs every client you find halfway attractive.” She lifted her chin and her gaze raked over his figure with deliberate mockery. “Sure, you’ve got a great body, but I’m not going to mess up my chances of a real marriage with a real man for a quick screw with you.”

Temper gleamed in his eyes but she forced herself to finish. “I’m going to marry someone with refinement, education, and money. God forbid if anyone found out I indulged in an affair with my handyman. So, do I have to ask you again? Keep your hands off of me, or leave.”

The gloves were off and thrown in the figurative ring. He stared at her hard for a few moments, his face unreadable. Then with a mocking grin, he gave a salute and as if picking up the glove and tucking it in neatly into his pocket. “Yes, ma’am.” He walked with long easy strides right past her and to the door. Then paused.

“I’ll be finished by the end of the week.”

The door shut behind him.

Bryce Sinclair settled back on the overstuffed pillows and watched the naked servant girl duck her head in shame. Triumphant satisfaction thrummed through him. “Look at me,” he commanded.

She obediently raised her gaze. He studied her in silence, noting her young skin, silky long hair, and not-so-innocent mouth still dripping from his explosion. She gave a good blow job—her mouth perfectly tight—but she was still underdeveloped. Her mother had serviced him well only a few hours ago. The thought of getting them in bed together fluttered past him and he filed it for later use. Young women were such a challenge to break, but once used a few times, the lure of the game tarnished.

“Now go tell your mother what we did together.”

Her mouth fell open and tears gathered in dark depths. “But, but, I can’t! She would kick me out if she knew…you made me! You—”

“I’m done with you.” He waved his hand in disgust. “You were sniffing after me for weeks and I only gave you what you wanted. If you don’t do what I ask, I’ll hurt her again.” Her face transformed into a mask of fear. The power shuddered through him and made him semi-hard. “That’s right,” he said softly. “And you know I’ll do it. In all the places where no one will ever know. And if you both don’t please me, I’ll make sure you have no job at the castle. Or anywhere else.”

A flash of temper shone in her gaze. Bryce watched with interest, but it quickly flared out and she was once again submissive. She left and shut the door behind her, leaving him to his thoughts.

He was so bored.

He reached for his glass of champagne and sipped, enjoying the feel of the satin sheets against his nakedness. In fact, he enjoyed looking at his own body, knowing it was perfection granted him like a gift from the gods. He knew his dark hair and gray eyes challenged women to unveil the mysteries beneath. He kept his body rock hard with daily workouts and strict eating regimen. His only downfall was his love of alcohol and the occasional snort of cocaine.

Bryce glanced at his lavish bedroom decorated in rich red and gold. A room for a king. Unfortunately, he’d never be close as long as his cousin reigned.

Anger burned hot and bright and his fingers tightened against the stem of the glass. Once his dear old uncle finally kicked the bucket, he thought it’d finally be over, the endless rivalry to outwit his cousin, only to always be ranked second best. It reminded him of those terrible Disney movies where good triumphed even when evil deserved the prize.

The villains had always been so much more interesting.

His cousin had always been a complete bore. But lately, there seemed to be a secretive hush shrouding the castle, which intrigued him.

There was something going on with Jack.

Bryce sensed a rat a football field away. His cousin had disappeared shortly after his father died and Aunt Victoria refused to elaborate on his whereabouts. Knowledge gleamed in her eyes but he hadn’t been able to break her yet. Whatever it was, he needed the information. If he made one misstep, the kingdom of Woodward Shipping would never belong to him. And he’d be working for Jack for the rest of his pitiful life.

He’d die before that happened.

Bryce loathed his cousin more than anyone else on the earth. When they’d been young, he thought they’d be allies and rule the world. Instead, his cousin showed a disgusting softness, especially around women. When Jack had found him forcing one of their classmates to give him oral sex, his cousin went crazy, threatening to tell everyone in the family and shut him out for good. Bryce’s mother never stood up to Aunt Victoria. He’d been trapped like a wolf around a bunch of sheep, forbidden to feast. Instead, he starved and he learned. He searched for weaknesses and played his games with stealth.

He detested most women and the way they used sex to their advantage, then screamed foul play. There’d been many he’d taught a valuable lesson. They cried rape, but he quickly adjusted their notion, knowing the favor he courted with his aunt and uncle. He was second in command of one of the biggest shipping companies in England. The world belonged to him if he could only oust his cousin from taking a wife and providing an heir.

His cell rang and interrupted his thoughts. Bryce answered immediately. “You found something.”

A pause. “Yes, sir. He’s hiding in Newport, Rhode Island. Took a ship and has it docked in town.”

Bryce frowned and tried to figure out the puzzle. “Why?”

“Not sure, sir. I’ve been trying to get Lady Victoria to confess but she’s been tight-lipped, even around the servants.”

“Email me a full report. I want to know every move Jack has made so I can figure this out.”

“I’ll send it now.”

He waited a few minutes, and then his phone buzzed. He quickly glanced through the highlights and found a name. Julianna Waters. He had no idea who she was or even if she was important, but it was a good place to start. If Jack planned to spring a surprise engagement, Bryce needed to stop it. He’d lose everything and always be in his cousin’s shadow.

Bryce called back his contact and gave him clear instructions, then lounged back on the pillows.

It may be time to take a necessary trip.