Jar of Hearts: (Family Stone, # 5 Keisha and Shane) (Family Stone Romantic Suspense) (3 page)

“Quit wasting time.” She dismissed the earthquake worthy kiss as nothing more than a platonic peck on the cheek. “We met. We got married. We want to give money to a worthy cause. The end.”

Three

Shane nearly swallowed his tongue as Keisha sauntered toward the restaurant, her hips swinging provocatively. All he could do was follow behind her.

He’d been infatuated with Keisha over the last few months, and he figured he’d exaggerated her sex appeal in his mind. But after that amazing, intense kiss in her entryway, he acknowledged he’d been way off fucking base.

She was hot.

Scorching, crazy hot. And their kiss had been even hotter. If he hadn’t promised Jack he would investigate this problem for the food bank, Shane would have stripped off her sexy dress and taken her against the wall.

Now he watched hungrily as she entered the wine and dine event like she owned it. The small restaurant had exposed brick walls, a thick-beamed ceiling, rustic copper accents, and a large flagstone fireplace. The hearth was decorated with red hearts and wine bottles tied with white and red bows.

Shane hustled up behind her and placed his palm on her bare shoulder. “Hold up, babe.” His voice was even lower than normal as he suppressed the desire to run his hand over her smooth, soft skin.

She turned her head and gave him a ‘cold as a glacier ice cap’ smile while her eyes shot sparks that told him he’d pushed the intimate touch just a little too far. Her curls brushed her shoulder and the curve of her neck. Shane’s eyes widened when he saw the faint mark from his kiss. Holy hell, he’d given her a hickey.

“Uh, Keish.”

Before he could confess, a well-preserved white woman approached them. She was in her early sixties with a cap of silver hair that curled around her face, blue eyes that sparkled as brightly as the giant diamonds in her ears, and dressed in a traditional suit in a pale purple.

“Welcome to the Food for Life fundraiser,” she extended her right hand to Keisha and smiled eagerly.

“Keisha Washington.” The slight rasp of Keisha’s voice scraped over his nerve endings, and all Shane could think about was listening to that husky rasp while he thrust inside her. “And this is my husband,” Keisha stumbled over the intimate word, “Shane.”

“I’m Monica Peterson, on the board at Food for Life. It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.” Monica said, “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

“None for me.” Shane passed. He was driving.

“I’d love one.”

“Great. Come with me and I’ll tell you all about our organization.”

Keisha tried to make it look like she was sorry to be deserting Shane but he caught the glee in her hazel gaze as she tried to stay in character as a loving, adoring wife. He was pretty sure she pulled it off, unless you looked closely, you couldn’t see the edge in her eyes. “You going to be okay?”

“Babe. Enjoy yourself.” He brushed his knuckles along her cheekbone and then kissed her forehead. And damn, she smelled good. What started as a teasing gesture, turned into something more as he inhaled her unique scent.

Shane knew he was going to pay for that touch later. So he might as well go all the way. He smiled indulgently and put his hand on her butt and pushed gently.

Her gaze narrowed. “Oh, believe me, I will.” Her natural sass shone through the words.

Shane grinned. “You do that.”

While Monica Peterson lead Keisha toward a bar set up in the far corner, Shane glanced around the restaurant. They were closed to the public. Some of the tables had been removed leaving a large open area in the center of the room. Couples mingled in groups of mostly two and four. Waiters in black pants, white shirts, and black bow ties served mini-sliders and crab cakes on silver platters. He headed toward the bar, in the opposite direction of the one that Keisha had taken, to get a glass of water. Before he could take more than a few steps, a man with a name tag that identified him as Bob Michaels, the Chair of the Food for Life Board of Directors, intercepted him. “Mr. Washington?”

Shane raised his eyebrows. “Yes.” He wasn’t sure if he should be offended by the assumption that he was Shane Washington, but when he’d taken in the fairly small crowd, there were very few black men in the room.

“Jack told me you were built like a linebacker with the smile of a little kid.” He stuck out his hand to shake Shane’s.

“Jack’s gonna get his ass kicked.” But Shane laughed.

Jack came up behind Shane. “Not if I kick yours first.” Of course, Shane’d known Jack was going to be there. That was part of the cover. Jack was introducing Shane and Keisha to the food bank opportunity.

“Nice to meet you.” Bob Michaels leaned closer. “If you have any specific questions, let me know.”

More attendees entered the circle surrounding Shane, Jack, and Bob Michaels and welcomed him to the Food for Life wine and dine. The press of people made him slightly uncomfortable. He preferred not to be the center of attention. He was more of a behind-the-scenes kind of guy. It came from his days growing up where drawing attention to yourself was the last thing an African-American kid in his neighborhood needed to be doing.

Keisha pretended to wander back toward Shane but if anyone had been paying particular attention, they would have seen that she made it to his side in record time. The older man talking to Shane seemed innocuous enough but she recognized the tension in Shane’s shoulders. What surprised her even more was her intuitiveness about Shane. She wasn’t even sure how she knew to read his body language. It was definitely subtle but she’d identified his unease immediately. How? She had no idea.

Keisha wondered what caused his tension and set off her worry meter. Shane could handle himself and this assignment was far from dangerous, so why was he tense?

She stepped up to the cluster of people just as the older man declared, “Mr. Washington is considering a sizable donation to our organization, but only after he observes how we run our business.”

“My wife and I would like to hear more about your operation,” Shane said. He wrapped his arm lightly around her waist, and she was thankful for the fact that he had made them practice touching. Otherwise she’d have likely shot through the roof at the arc of electricity that zipped up her spine.

Shane inclined his head. She placed a manicured hand on his forearm. The muscled strength beneath her fingers caused a flutter of weakness through her limbs.

Day-am, even his forearms were ripped.

She had a totally inappropriate mind scatter, as she imagined for a moment, what Shane would look like without his shirt on.

“Don Wallaston.” A pompous husky gentleman in a bowtie with a mane of white hair combed artlessly away from his red face shoved out his hand. “What’s your business?”

“Washington Aviation,” Shane replied, his voice a mere rumble as he shook the older man’s hand.

“Your thirty thousand dollars would be put to very good use.” Another older woman dripping in diamonds, with a wrinkled neck that didn’t match her too smooth face, a little too much Botox perhaps, smiled and leaned into Shane’s arm after introducing herself as Jane Pavlov.

Keisha fought the urge to growl. She did not like that woman’s hand on her man’s body. Anywhere.

Oh, good God, Shane was not
her
man.

But then their words registered. Thirty thousand dollars. Maybe that’s what Shane was tense about. Besides the chairman who asked Stone Consulting to look into the strange clandestine deliveries, everyone else thought Shane and Keisha would be donating a cool 30K to the food bank.

“And this is Keisha, Shane’s lovely wife.” Jack laid it on a little too thick in Keisha’s opinion.

Damn Jack for not thinking this through. Keisha would make sure that the Stone family ponied up the money. She gave Jack a death stare. She hated having to subdue her acerbic personality.

Don, the older dude, leered at Keisha, his laser focus on her neck. “Are you newlyweds?”

Shane slid his palm up her arm and circled her shoulders. His thick bulky bicep felt fantastic against her back. She tilted her head on Shane’s arm and smiled at the old man. “Fairly newlywed.” As in this morning. Not that it was any of his business and Keisha fought the urge to say that.

Another man smirked, and the older woman who’d been subtly coming on to Shane, frowned at Keisha.

Shane tensed again. Poor guy.

“Practically still on our honeymoon.” He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “Sorry.”

It was Keisha’s turn to stiffen. What the heck was he talking about? But then their embrace in her doorway flashed in her mind, the tight, hard suction of his gorgeous lips against her neck.

Hickey, Jack mouthed at Keisha, confirming her suspicions.

She narrowed her eyes at Shane, her temper flashing. “You didn’t?” she hissed.

He pressed a gentle kiss against the side of her head and then murmured in her ear, “Babe, it was an accident.”

And if they’d been any place else, she would have let him have it. But she couldn’t let go of the tight rein on her temper, because when she went off, she could forget everything and she couldn’t blow their cover. But she mentally promised retaliation when the night ended.

She looked forward to giving him sharp edge of her tongue. But instead of yelling at him, another use for her tongue invaded her brain, the vision of her licking up and down his thick, hard cock had her knees weakening and a rush of arousal flooding her sex.

Accident, her ass. “You’re in for it now.”

But Shane only smiled, his lips lifted in a wicked smirk. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

“And there goes my girlfriend, Bliss.” Jack had a ridiculously goofy look on his face as he stared after his new girlfriend, Bliss Lee. She was half-Irish, half-Chinese and absolutely gorgeous. Keisha had never seen her boss and friend so whipped and she’d known him a long time.

Keisha had met Jack when they were both in Basic at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center in Michigan. Apparently he and Bliss had a thing before he went into the Navy. Then they reconnected on a case a few months ago.

Jack took off toward Bliss. He needed to run interference. Part of the plan was for Bliss to keep Shelley, Jack’s stepmother, away from Shane and Keisha. Jack had to make sure that his stepmother didn’t see them at the fundraiser because Shelley knew Keisha from the company and Shane from their charter flights. Since Shelley knew that Keisha and Shane were not together, let alone married, they didn’t want Shelley to accidentally out them.

“Behave yourself.” Jack aimed a stern look at Keisha before he beelined for his girlfriend.

Bob Michaels cleared his throat. “So, Mr. Washington—”

“Call me Shane.” Shane slowly took his attention from Keisha, making it clear he was doing so on his own terms. And he didn’t let go of her but held her tightly against him.

“What would you like to know about Food for Life?”

“Take me through your donation and distribution process,” Shane demanded authoritatively.

For the next ten minutes, Bob Michaels gave a rudimentary overview of the processes involved in collecting donations, sorting, boxing, and distributing food. The other attendees filled in details.

“We don’t actually distribute to individuals.” Jane, the diamond dripping woman added, “We distribute the food to our partners, food kitchens, churches, after school programs, the county. They hand out the food packages, or actual cooked food, to the individuals in need.”

Keisha had never really thought about the logistics of feeding a transient community.

“What about fresh produce?” Keisha stood up straighter. And for a moment, she wasn’t thinking about the job but about the kids. “We’ve got to teach our kids that fruits and vegetables are essential to good health.”

“Great question.” The older woman’s smile warmed as she expounded on a subject that was clearly one of her favorites. “We get donations from a variety of sources. We are working to put in place a program where donors can sponsor an acre of land and we employ the workers to plant, care and harvest food directly for us.”

Bob Michaels eagerly interjected. “We also have a healthy gleaning program, where people who have produce trees and vines in their yards allow us to come in and harvest fruit when it is ripe.”

“Are there any regulations on produce donations?” Keisha wondered since the reason they needed to investigate was because someone was giving large donations anonymously.

“Not really.” Don Wallaston shook his head.

So why would someone donate food anonymously? There wasn’t any point to it and they would lose the tax benefit. Right? But she pretended that all that information wasn’t swirling around in her head.

“That’s fantastic.” Keisha’s mouth curved into a wide smile.

Shane’s chest was nearly pressed up against her back as Shane wrapped a thick arm around her waist. His embrace was more intoxicating than the mellow, fruity merlot she’d gulped down in a bid to calm her nerves. She’d been rock solid when she’d tried to illegally scam her way in to Henri LeRoy’s mansion in Port-du-Bois…and if she’d been discovered trying to plant poison there, she’d have been dead. Here she’d just be asked to leave. So why was she nervous?

This assignment was practically a boondoggle. Dress up. Eat fancy food. Drink excellent wine. The good news was that she had enough experience to act as if she belonged in this room with all these wealthy people.

Keisha could throw attitude with the best of them, so she sucked it up and pretended that she had the money and the right to be a legitimate guest at this party rather than a fake who’d grown up one step away from needing the services of the food bank.

Shane asked some more questions. “Do the recipients have to be homeless?” He was unbelievably tense behind her. “There are plenty of single mothers out there who work two jobs to put a roof over their kids’ heads and food on the table.”

“Not at all,” Monica replied. “Many of the county’s recipients are working families who are struggling to pay their bills and rent. There is a misconception that the food bank only supplies to the homeless, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Keisha had almost forgotten that they were there to garner an invite to the facility, but she was reminded when Monica Peterson said, “Why don’t you come over to the warehouse tomorrow and we’ll show you around.”