56
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All Jacked Up
Jack stretched across the table until their mouths were a kiss apart. “We’re fucking kidding ourselves that we can keep this platonic for much longer.”
The growly timbre of his voice destroyed any smartass comment she might’ve conjured. She wanted to hear that growling noise against her throat, in her ear, on her belly, on the insides of her thighs.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she breathed.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to—”
“Isn’t this sweet, you two lovebirds holding hands and whispering naughty nothings to each other.”
Keely looked up at India with murder in her eyes.
Jack recovered quickly. “India. Nice to see you looking so…round. Congratulations.”
“Oh, bite me, Donohue. Babies rock but pregnancy sucks.” India cocked her hip against the side of the booth. “Since you’re gonna be part of the family now, I expect my rent won’t go up. Ever. Especially in light of the fact you withheld the information about being our landlord.”
Jack muttered something about false expectations.
Now this was better. Watching Jack get raked over the coals for a change.
“How are the engagement party preparations going?”
Talk about a short attention span. “Mom is doing everything. Jack’s mother is coming Friday to help.
We’re staying out of the way.”
“So how is it that you guys ended up together?” India asked.
Keely changed the subject. “You feeling okay?”
“Fine and fucking dandy. Fat as a frog. You’ve gotten worse at deflection, by the way, so suck it up and answer my question.”
“Pregnancy has made you mean.”
“Meaner. Start talking about how this love match came about.”
“We’re blaming you and Colt.”
Jack went board stiff across from her.
“What did we have to do with it?” India demanded.
“Your wedding reception was the first time Jack and I acted on our attraction to each other, wasn’t it, darlin’?”
He nodded and kissed her hand.
“Once we started working together…it was pointless to resist.”
“It was destiny,” Jack murmured.
“This sappy crap is making me want to barf,” India said.
The waitress dropped off their food. “India, your order is done. I’ll get it and meet you at the register.”
“Thanks.”
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57
Lorelei James
“Is it your night to cook?” Keely asked innocently.
“Ooh, you’re as funny as my husband. I’m starved all the freakin’ time.” She shouted, “Hey, Bea, throw in like a dozen cookies too, willya?”
With that India waddled away.
“Pregnant women are so easily distracted by food.”
Jack frowned at her. “Is there any place we can go in this town without running into one of your relatives?”
“Nope.” Keely released his hand and reached for her steak knife, half-resentful, half-glad India had ruined the moment.
Jack wasn’t surprised they finished the meal in near silence. In near record time too.
He paid the check and Keely headed upstairs to the apartment. The thought of watching her sexy ass shake as those long legs climbed the stairs made his dick hard.
Damn her relatives. She’d almost admitted she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He was to the fuck it point—he was fucked if he did and fucked if he didn’t fuck her. Might as well grab some smokin’
hot sex while he could get it.
“Keely?”
“In the living room.”
She’d curled up in her favorite corner of the couch and flipped through the three channels. “When is the cable company supposed to be here?”
“Tomorrow. Between eight and noon. Will you be around?”
Keely’s gaze flicked to him. “Why? Aren’t you gonna be here to take care of it since it was your idea?”
Jack plopped on the couch. “Things went to shit today and I’m flying to Iowa first thing in the morning to straighten it out. I’ll be back Friday night, Saturday morning at the latest.”
“Whoa. Wait a second. Saturday night is our engagement party. You cannot miss that! The whole reason we’re having the stupid party is for people to think we’re getting married. Do you know how humiliating it’ll be if you don’t show up—”
“I’ll be here, okay?”
“You’d better be. I mean it. So help me God, Jack Donohue, if you aren’t standing beside me wearing a fake-ass smile to rival mine, I will track you down and flay off every bit of your yellow skin with a bullwhip.”