Penn's Fortune (Saddles & Second Chances Book 2) Page 2

  “Why?”

  Because I might want to kiss you again. He was sinking fast. “It would be a conflict of interest. Reed has been a client of SCS since we opened.” Why did he suddenly feel like a jerk?

  “Are you Jericho’s so hard up that you have to do the work for a crook?”

  “You’re not convincing me,” he murmured.

  She nodded and he was surprised that the defiant expression fizzled. “That’s what I thought. If you get a chance, take a look. Find out for yourself what Marshall is like. Something you should have done before you snooped into my life for him.” She darted a glance at the envelope, then she left. He stood in the doorway watching her walk down the pebbled walkway, wanting to allow his gaze to devour her sweet bottom, but hadn’t he stooped low enough already? Why did he feel so damn guilty? He hadn’t done anything wrong. So why was he still unsure?

  The headlights feathered across the front of the house as she backed out and drove away. He slammed the door and looked down at the envelope. Reaching in, he pulled out a stack of photos. On top was one of the surveillance shots he’d taken of Harley in Raymond Patterson’s arms. Penn had researched and found that Patterson was an employee of Reed Oil Industries. After getting a few shots of them on the sidewalk embracing, and kissing each other inside of the bookstore, Penn had waited, but nothing else occurred between the two. At least not sexually. He’d added that in his report to Reed.

  Sliding the picture aside, he came to the next photo. What he saw made his temples ache and his throat tighten.

  Patterson’s head had a drawing of a knife sticking out of his head. And the next, had the same knife buried in Harley’s chest. Each picture was the same, except for the last. Their faces were cut out with the word ‘dead’ written across the top.

  Someone definitely wanted to scare Harley, but was it Reed? What would he have to gain? Would he risk the aftermath? He had a reputation to uphold.

  Dropping the stack of pictures onto the coffee table, they scattered and he stared. No doubt, only a man who didn’t have his head on straight would do such a thing, but Penn had learned long ago not to jump to conclusions. Not everything was as simple as it appeared.

  Why the hell didn’t Harley go to the police? Penn agreed there were some corrupt men on the force, but there were damn good ones too. He knew because he had a few buddies that proved daily that they took pride in wearing a badge. He’d even lost some friends in the line of duty.

  Did Harley have something to hide?

  When he took the Reed/Tate case, he thought it’d be an open and closed one. Penn had been asked to meet Reed at his office, and he explained his suspicion and desire to find out who Harley was sleeping with. It had taken Penn a week of surveilling her before finally getting the shots of her with Patterson. Looking at the pictures, Penn couldn’t say that they proved that Harley and the man were romantically involved, but one could assume such a thing. Yet, if she and Reed had broken up, why did it matter?

  Hell, Penn knew a lot of men and women who couldn’t seem to let go of a failed relationship—couldn’t bear the thought of someone they loved being with another. A broken heart could be lethal, making people do crazy things.

  If he believed Harley, and she had broken up with Reed months ago, then why did the man lie to Penn? Well, that was obvious. SCS wouldn’t have taken the case if they’d known the true circumstances. He’d turned away many cases because exes just wanted to cause problems.

  Without a doubt, the surveillance photos belonged to Reed. That was a strike against the man. Who else would have the motive to doodle knives, cut out heads on photos, and then deliver them to an ex-girlfriend? Another strike. Again, things were never how they seemed. Penn knew Reed and he didn’t seem like the man to sink to elementary tactics. The man always had a different bombshell on his arm and seemed not to spend too much time sulking over a lost relationship.

  Although, Harley was different than the women Reed normally was interested in.

  Penn would have Susie call Harley and give her a number to another PI. Then he’d fire the secretary. It would deserve her right after giving out his private address. What was she thinking? What had he been thinking by dragging in a woman off his porch and kissing her?

  He didn’t have time to concern himself…

  A soft knock came on the door, then it opened. He picked up the photos and slid them back into the envelope, dropping it into a basket on the corner of the coffee table. Seneca strolled in, her wide, crimson smile in place. Her low-cut T-shirt showed off the deep valley between her breasts, the outline of her hard nipples shadowed the thin material and he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. She knew his triggers, but he also knew she liked the big tips she received when she flashed her tits. Still, his cock stretched the blanket as she sashayed her way over to him, stopping within inches, her bottom lip puckering, “Bad day?”

  He shrugged. “You could say that.”

  “Poor, baby.” She pressed against him, cupping his cheek with one hand and with the other she grabbed his shaft. “What can I do to make things better?”

  His body was now throbbing. He wrapped his arm around her tiny waist and pulled her closer, waning to drive his body deep, but his gaze involuntarily found the envelope. He turned his shoulder, focusing all his attention on the woman who’d warmed his bed for the last few months—with no strings attached. They understood each other’s needs, and they never strayed from the carnal desires. He liked her enough. She was gorgeous and knew her way around a man’s body, but when the morning sun came up, she wasn’t expecting breakfast. He didn’t have an ounce of desire for a relationship, nor all the aspects and issues that came along with one. And that’s why he and Seneca got along great. She had an itch that needed scratched and Penn could give her that. They both had a raunchy side they liked bringing to the bedroom.

  She slid the tip of her nail along the blanket and grasped the material in her fist, dragging it away from his body. “Looks like dessert is being served up.” Her playful smile spoke volumes. “I’ve craved a lollipop all day.”

  “I’ve been waiting.”

  She stood on tiptoes in cowgirl boots and kissed him on the cheek. “Care if I use the little girl’s room first? I just got off work and I’d like to wash off all of those unwanted advances.”

  “Sure. You know the way.” He watched her head down the hall. His body ached to clutch her and plunge deep. Penn had been in a bar in the next county over working on a case and he’d spotted Seneca who had looked awfully good in her skimpy shirt and short skirt that hugged her tight bottom in such a way that he knew what he wanted. The next night, when he was off duty, she gave him exactly what he’d fantasized.

  He plopped down on the couch and his gaze landed on the envelope, and his mind wandered to the mysterious woman, Harley Tate. Although it seemed irrational, her showing up at his place, he had a feeling she felt justified in her actions. His gut didn’t settle well. He often took cases where spouses and significant others wanted to find out if they were being cheated on. It happened all the time. In fact, that was a huge financial gain in the line of investigation, unfortunately. He guessed it was a sense of closure for people wanting to find the truth instead of just saving their money and walking away. When a man or woman had a suspicion that their partner was cheating, ninety-five percent of the time they were right.

  He grabbed the envelope and dropped back into the cushions, rubbing his tight neck. He took out one of the photos. Harley and Patterson were coming out of the bookstore and she was smiling, her eyes bright. He wondered what it must be like to be the target of that smile. He also had a feeling she had a good head on her shoulders. How did a woman like her get involved with a man like Reed? Outside of the fact that he was much older, the man didn’t seem to have a warm bone in his body. Harley radiated warmth, passion, and intelligence. How could a cold man satisfy her? Maybe Penn was off track, but he doubted it.

  Now, thinking back, why hadn’t he pondered the
reason why Harley didn’t appear like she had anything to hide while with Patterson? Most people who were cheating left town to do their dirty work, or would go to great lengths to hide the fact that they were sleeping with someone else, not bring in the ‘lover’ to their place of business.

  Maybe she didn’t have anything to hide?

  Damn, had he dropped the ball on this case? There were things he could have done differently.

  Stop right here. This case was over. He needed to let it go.

  But why couldn’t he?

  Nothing about the case was any clearer or made any sense. His keen instincts had never steered him wrong.

  Okay, maybe Harley and Reed were indeed broken up when the photos were taken. Possibly he just needed proof that she’d moved on so he could have closure. That didn’t make him dangerous. As cold as he was, he seemed on the up and up. SCS had installed Reed Industries security system and had done some background checks on his employees. Nothing alerted Penn that anything was wrong—or that Reed was a crook.

  So then why did Penn feel uncomfortable?

  He was a good judge of character and nothing seemed strange about Harley. His brain spiraled back to their kiss. It wasn’t much of one really, yet the taste of cherry still lingered on his tongue.

  “Yikes. Who would do such a thing?”

  Penn brought his chin up, meeting Seneca’s disgusted expression. He realized he still held the picture. “Good question.”

  “That’s like the movie I watched recently. The villain sent the pictures as a warning that he was going to chop off the man’s head.” She shivered dramatically.

  Clearing his throat, he dropped the picture back in the envelope. He had no desire to talk about chopped off heads. “Now, where were we?”

  Seneca’s expression softened as she climbed atop his lap, settling her knees on either side of his hips. Her large breasts with pale pink nipples were at his face level. So why wasn’t he diving in? She bent and rolled her tongue around his ear lobe, nibbling the flesh. “I brought a sex toy I’d like to try,” she whispered.

  He’d always appreciated her openness for adventure in bed. Just why wasn’t his body getting hard? Aching for release?

  She planted her palms against his chest, grinding her inner thighs against his cock, and Penn’s mind conjured an image of Harley’s shapely body pressed against his, how good she’d felt. How she smelled and tasted.

  Seneca wrapped her hand around his semi-flaccid erection and she purred in delight. “Oh, a challenge. I love challenges.” She started to move downward and he caught her gently by the shoulders.

  “I have some bad news.” Besides the fact that my body isn’t responding normally.

  She looked up at him, her crimson lips lowered into a child-like frown. “What?”

  “I have a job.”

  “That’s exactly what I planned to do.” She giggled and started to move again, but he caught her. Her gaze narrowed. “This. Is. Getting old.”

  “I meant, I have an investigation job I have to take on tonight.” Damn, he’d lost his mind.

  “But you invited me here.” She sat up, her bottom lip protruding. “I drove all of the way here expecting to see you, to spend the night.” Her eyes turned sad. He had a feeling she used that expression like a weapon to get her way. Somehow it irked him instead of easing his guilt.

  “I’m sorry. I really am, but it’s something that just came up.”

  There was a long hesitation as if she needed to wrap her brain around his words and then she scooted from his lap. Her expression twisted. “Would this job be another woman?” She tilted her hip.

  “Yes…and no.”

  She stomped across the room, bending to pick something up from the floor. When she returned, she held out her hand showing him the diamond earring. “You might want to give her back her jewelry.”

  He took the earring that looked oddly tiny in his large palm. How did women have that uncanny skill at seeing everything and anything?

  She was grabbing her purse and starting for the door.

  Penn stood, reaching for the blanket to cover up for the second time in the last half hour. “Seneca, it isn’t like that. Job isn’t metaphoric for sex.”

  The door slammed as the last word dropped from his lips. A part of him wanted to go after her and convince her of the truth, but what would he say? She’d want him to stay, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be worth a damn until he looked into Harley’s accusations further.

  *****

  Harley drove off the Second Chances Ranch feeling no better than she did when she arrived. Sure, it had been a crazy, impulsive action to come here to see the man who’d intruded on her life. What she hadn’t expected was for Penn Jericho to welcome her with such an enthusiastic greeting. Of course, he wasn’t expecting her, but still, she hadn’t been kissed like that since…well…ever. It had surprised her that the action happened, but also because she felt something in her core, enough to make her toes curl.

  She reached up and touched her fingertips lightly to her lips, still swollen and warm like the feeling in her nipples. She gave her head a quick shake, slightly embarrassed at the rush of sensation in her body. Why didn’t she push him away? Smack his face? Instead, for a whimsical second, she’d pressed against his broad, bare chest, lingering in his muscled arms, inhaling his virile scent of leather and musk. When he’d rubbed his erection on her stomach, she’d been overcome with the desire to wrap her arms around his neck and let things happen—just go with human nature. She wasn’t desperate by any sense of the word, but it had been long enough for her that she missed intimacy.

  For heaven’s sake. This wasn’t a safe train of thought.

  Her intentions to rant to Penn about ‘stalking’ her hadn’t quite worked out exactly as planned. She’d wanted to give him a piece of her mind, and had instead given him a piece of her tongue.

  Ugh. She was angry with him. Disgusted that he aided Marshall in his sinister activities. It didn’t matter that Penn was tall, toned and had the most amazing eyes she’d ever seen—not to mention a smile that could knock a woman’s panties off. Or that he had the biggest shaft she’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. Sweat beaded between her breasts and she pressed the button to the AC, hoping for some relief from the heat building between her inner thighs. She’d heard rumors about the Jericho brothers and their physiques through her employee, Jodi, and they were true.

  Harley didn’t give one hoot how ‘long’ and ‘thick’ Penn Jericho was or that his kiss was magical. All the Jericho cowboys had a name and it wasn’t for sainthood, although they were highly respected among the townspeople. She’d had her fair share of egotistical, obnoxious men for a lifetime.

  Yet, why did she ask Penn for his services? His PI services and not what he could offer with his muscled body. Asking him hadn’t been her intent, but the words had developed on her tongue before she could erase them. Probably because she had his taste and touch desensitizing her logic. Fairly, it wasn’t everyday a woman had a naked man greeting her at the door, then kissing her passionately.

  Well, he’d said ‘no’ to her request, which was probably best that he hadn’t agreed to help her. That danger was eliminated. Being near him for any length of time would certainly lead to more kisses. No reason to lie to herself. He irritated and excited her all at the same time.

  She was left with the same issue. Marshall. She didn’t trust him. How did an intelligent, clever, confident woman allow a spider to slip into her world? Her mother had warned her about men like him, how they could charm the pants off a statue. Marshall had been charming, true, but he hadn’t ‘charmed’ her pants off. That’s where she’d drawn the line. Not that he hadn’t asked her to sleep with him, but she’d stuck by the desire to take things slow.

  Marshall had come into her bookstore, Between the Lines, looking for a rare John le Carre book. She didn’t have that particular edition, but she’d helped and found him one. The second time he’d come in, he’d asked h
er to dinner and she accepted. Surprisingly, they had a lot in common. He loved literature. In fact, he had a library inside of his luxurious apartment that could make a librarian salivate. He appreciated rare art and had an amazing collection. She found she could talk to him about things that mattered to her.

  What should have been one date and that was all, turned into a yearlong relationship and her accepting his offer and investment to help bring her dreams to fruition. Three years ago, after receiving the trust fund from her mother’s death, Harley had added that amount to all the money she’d saved from waiting tables and decided to take the leap of a lifetime. She’d researched and found the bookstore up for sale in Colton, Texas—a small, quaint town with around three-thousand people. The area had a good number of tourists because of the events it offered, especially rodeos, held at the county fairgrounds. They’d recently commissioned a motorcycle rodeo that had brought more business to the region, including concerts with popular country singers.

  She’d realized taking over the store would be a challenge, but she’d understood that to make it work she needed to modernize things, but her money was depleted after she’d signed the title. That’s where Marshall had stepped in. He’d been interested in her desire to turn the store into a café where people could sit, drink coffee, munch on treats, and read for hours. He’d also liked the idea of getting the first crack at rare edition books, and Harley and her contacts could do that for him.

  Harley had wanted to set a monthly payback schedule, but Marshall had brushed off the request. Instead, he’d asked her to sign a contract, calling it a “friendly gesture”. His attorney had explained the stipulations to her, and she understood and signed the legal document.

  Three months after the loan, things took a downhill spiral in her relationship with Marshall. His attitude had become volatile and he seemed wrapped up in his business. When she told him that she could no longer tolerate his behavior, he’d lost his head, telling her, “Read the contract you signed, sweetheart. Leave me and the loan is due in full.”