The Dom With the Perfect Brats (4 page)

“By myself.”
Revealing her dad was here wasn’t necessary. She’d rather not talk about him anyway.

In the background
, she was half aware of customers arriving, people moving about. Slowly, the pain also became a background thing. “Hey, this is relaxing in a way. If we were outside I could get a tan.” She shut her eyes.

“Some people go to sleep,” Gemma answered then
her chair scraped the floor as she stood. “Be back in a minute. I have to find the...what do you call it in Australia? Powder Room?”

Izzy snorted.
“In old movies, maybe. Toilet or just the ladies.” Caught by a twitch of mischieviousness, she dredged up some older slang. “Or the dunny! Aussies use that one a lot.”

“Dunny?
Sounds like a nickname for a dustbunny.” She shrugged then walked away.

A shadow fell on her. Someone, or something, dwarfed her to her right. So unless the shop had its own we
ather with clouds and all... She opened an eyelid.

Oh boy, that bet she’d thought a guaranteed money-
maker – not.

Godfrey Cross was looking at her ankle. While he was far away, he’d been scary but safe. But here, where she felt enveloped in his masculinity
... If before her groin had been aching just a little, now, she felt herself dampen.

Do it.

“Hi,” she said brazenly. Might as well go all in.

His attention shifted to her face, but was it her imagination that made his gaze seem to sl
ow as it travelled up her body?

Yes. Imagination. Must be. The jet lag from two months ago was kicking in late, or something. If anyone qualified as average in the body department, she did.

“Hi, little Miss Sorry. Everything okay?”

The volcanic rumble of his voice rocked into her body.

God damn.
“Yes,” she squeaked. Where had her courage gone? She swallowed and tried again. “I was told to keep still so I wouldn’t get a snake with leprosy.”

Though an eyebrow lifted in bemusement, he nodded.

Why had she repeated that, or felt that bizarre need to explain why she was sitting still for the tattoo? Facepalm time. Now he thought she was crazy.

“It’s pretty. A phoenix?”

“Mm-hmm. Maybe you should get one.” What a dumb thing to say! As if he’d want a rainbow-colored phoenix.This time it was her perusing
his
body. Hard, muscly. God. The man was made in eye-candy heaven. “Though yours are way prettier. The pig thing on your biceps is beautiful.”

“It’s a
boar.” His expression conveyed with the minimum of facial movement that he thought her eyes needed adjusting.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Still pretty.”
Pretty suddenly seemed the wrong adjective. Her heart picked up, thudding deeper, louder. Peeking at his face, she wondered if her eyes had widened. Because it felt like it.

Calm. Serene. Breathe slooow. Every time she got a tattoo from now on she’d remember this
...this brush with someone who made her feel as small as a gnat. But, she’d done it, flirted.

She caught sight of Gemma returning, her mouth open slightly as if in awe. Taken by some ridiculous moment of bravado, she
arched a brow and gave her a smug look.

Cross narrowed his eyes. “You two best friends now?”

Thumbs tucked in her jeans pockets, Gemma sauntered to a halt beside Cross.

“They
’ve got a be –” Jake began.

She loudly cleared her throat. If he spilled t
his and told Cross they’d bet on her teasing him, she’d die of embarrassment.

The look Jake shot her morphed from startled to pure evil.
You owe me
, he mouthed before he went back to tattooing.

Now Cross was looking from her to Jake and back again. “Something I should know, Jake?”

“Maybe. She’s just worried I’ll...”

Fuck.
She closed her eyes a moment.

“
...tell you about her twitching. I said I’d get you to hold her down. Then she, you know, giggled like women do and said...” He paused again and adopted a contemplative aura.

She covered her face with her splayed fingers.

“She said she’d die if you did that.”

Next shopping trip she was buying a Jake voodoo doll and sticking pins in it
.

Meanwhile Gemma was looking like she’d rupture something through holding back from laughing. Izzy scowled at her through her fingers.

Looking both puzzled and suspicious, Cross said, “Then I guess I should do my duty and help a young lady in distress.”

And with that, his big calloused hand settled over her ankle. The room quivered.
She
quivered. Jake’s had felt like a proper hand, this was like being gripped by a giant. A warm, living Titan who seemed to be saying in the way he held her, that this was now
his
ankle.

And for the rest of the tattoo, all three million years of it, she sat there with him doing that. She didn’t dare say a word.

***

The bet. She’d been so befuddled by Cross holding down her ankle yesterday she’d forgotten about it. All morning at the café she’d caught herself daydreaming. Her bisexuality often sent her into a tizz over men or women but rarely both at the same time. Women, she adored for their beauty, their sexuality, for their luscious curves.

Men, if strong and dominating enough, bad-boy enough, made her sag at the knees. By himself, Cross qualified as a ten plus on all her score sheets, and with Gemma there she’d had to clamp down on her feelings and think of nasty things like election campaigns to stop herself blushing.

Why had Cross holding her ankle, of all things, brought on such crazy feelings?

“Hey! Lady! Two skinny lattes, please.”

Izzy blinked. “Sorry.” She made the lattes and handed them over to an older guy dressed in neat trousers and shirt and a sneering attitude. His only hint at politeness was a grunt as he
took the cups. Most of the customers she served in Kafehaus were friendlier, especially once she opened her mouth. Funny how much being an Aussie worked in her favor.

Two more customers waited. As she
busied herself making their drinks, her memories nudged her again. With Cross and Gemma in it, the tattoo shop had reached critical mass and she’d been sucked in, like a planet into a black hole. What an image that gave her.

Maybe her mind was playing tricks, maybe they were both average and she was simply suffering from extreme sexual deprivation?
Yeah, it must be that.

Uh-oh. Gemma.

For a few seconds, she lost track of everything but the woman sauntering toward her. Her red t-shirt and faded blue shorts covered her body but it was a small hop, step and jump into wondering what she’d look like in just bra and panties.

Finishing
the orders, without looking some more, was almost impossible.

Finally. Done.

She stood up straighter. “Hi, Gemma. What can I get you? Have they convinced you to be an errand girl already?”

Confusion crossed Gemma’s face. “
Ohh. Jake’s idea? No. Vetoed that one. We’re sharing the coffee-fetching.”

“
Good for you. So what would you like?”

She smiled
widely. “Three large coffees. Two black, no sugar, one skinny cappuccino.” Gemma rested her forearm on the counter and leaned. “Not busy?”

“Um. No.” She walked away to make
the coffees.

“Good. Then we can maybe talk about the bet? About paying?”

Paying? Was she joking? With money involved it was best to be sure. Some people were funny about things when you figured you had them pegged. Like Anna and liking girls. Yeah, wow, that had been a Class A quality fuck-up of misreading someone.

A quick half-turn showed Gemma leaning in even more, on folded arms, which made her breasts push up.
She smirked. “You totally owe me, but don’t worry. I’m not cruel. I’ll give you a week before I call my hitmen.”

“
You didn’t win! I flirted. I teased.” Izzy shot her a dirty look then checked the madly gurgling coffee machine.

Gemma snorted. “You blushed and stammered. That’s not
teasing.”

“I did n
–” She looked again. One dirty great big grin spread across Gemma’s face. “You know you’re full of it.” She poured the froth on the cappuccino then searched for the stencil for the chocolate topping.

“What do you call
teasing then?”

“Hmm.” Choc
olate shaker in hand, she looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Calling his wild boar tat a pig.”

“Doesn’t count. I’m so not paying for that flimsy excuse at
teasing.”

“Then what do
you
call teasing?” She ducked down to get a new packet of spoons and tipped the lot of them into the container, then grabbed a cardboard tray for the cups.

“I should’ve made it simpler.
Teasing is too vague. Kissing would have been easy to see.”

“
Me kiss him? Oh my god! I’m not sure fifty would have been enough payment for such a high-risk exercise.” Just thinking about kissing him made her hot...no, about
him
kissing her. That worked better.

Gemma chuckled. “Yeah. Kissing
Cross would be like feeding you to a lion. What about I give you a tattoo for free since we can’t agree?”

“You’d do that?” Was she serious? “You sure?”

“I think I can sneak one in. I’ll tell Malachi I need the practice. Not a big one, of course. Where do you want it?”

The thought of Gemma tattooing her was enough to make the room go still. Izzy fought the urge to swallow. “I’d trust you to do my hip.”

“Brave. Okay. It’s a deal.”

Someone stepped up. Another customer. Izzy let her gaze cruise upward.

Gulp.

Cross stood, no
loomed
, behind Gemma.

The man obviously had a PhD. in looming.

“Uhh. Hi...”
Oh shit. Did we say his name in the last few minutes?
“Can I get you anything?”
Like me, naked, facedown on the counter.

Gemma stiffened, her
eyes widened.

“No. I’m here to fetch Gemma.”

She twisted to look back at him.

“Malachi wondered if you were growing the coffee yourself.”

“You came here to fetch me? Are you Malachi’s lapdog then?”

He arched a brow. “
I’m nobody’s lapdog, girl.”

Now Gemma was flirting? Not to be outdone, Izzy stepped up the game. “Tsk, tsk, Gemma. He’s clearly not a la
pdog. More like an errand boy. You need to take your shirt off though. Then we’ll give you a tip.” She winked.

“Good call!
” Gemma turned to Cross. “With those muscles, you’d make a fortune as a cabana boy.”

He grunted then stepped closer, crowding Gemma against the counter, which brought a wave of her scent toward Izzy. “Cabana boy? I think you have the wrong idea there. A couple of concubines serving me
drinks naked is more my style.”

Oh hell. Now she was
imagining herself kneeling before him while he gazed possessively down at
her
. Way to go Miss Feminist of the Year.

The continued looming seemed to have rattled Gemma’s brain because her smartass comments had run out. Now all she did was stare up at him, her freckles brightening as a blush tore across her cheeks.

“You two are just trouble waiting to happen. I heard my name when I walked in. What are you brats up to?”

Think fast, think fast. Clearly Gemma wasn’t up to the task.
“You’ve got a gothic clothes shop. I’m partial to goth.” She made herself enthusiastic – not hard to do as she did like the style. “We were talking about your sale.” God, she prayed Gemma was fast on the uptake. Something about lying to Cross sent a frisson of fear through her.

After one glance across and an amuse
d frown, Gemma chipped in. “Yes. I peeked in your window too. The sale starts tomorrow? We were thinking of using our sexy feminine wiles on you to get to see it early.”

Izzy couldn’t help
smiling. Finally!

Godfrey narrowed his eyes. “
You were talking about my sale?”

In the face of his measured stare, it took a moment before Izzy could free her tongue, but she managed. “Yep.” Then she swallowed cautiously. The man had intimidating nailed. “
We were wondering if we could get an early look.”

“Is that possible?”
Gemma inquired, innocent and expectant as a puppy waiting for a treat.

Curious.
She figured the woman was aiming to, all at once, wrap Godfrey round her finger, bamboozle him, and maybe get a look at the sale early on top of it all. She could go with that.