Turn My World Upside Down: Jo's Story Read online

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “I’m right and you don’t want to admit it.”

  Shaking her head briskly, she sent her ponytail into a wild fly-and-bounce. Then, as if she couldn’t bear to stand still a minute longer, she paced around him in a tight circle, her steps quick, her boots pounding the sparse grass flat.

  “I’m offering to go to bed with you and you say no because you don’t want to ‘lose’ me.”

  “That’s right.” He turned in a circle, following her progress, mostly because he was getting the feeling it wouldn’t pay to take his eyes off her.

  “Well,” she snapped, stopping suddenly to poke him in the chest with her index finger. “You can’t lose what you never had.”

  A flash of heat shot through him and he welcomed it. Hell, even he couldn’t believe he was turning her down. He should just sleep with her. Get her out of his system, reclaim his solitary life and be fucking grateful. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t make himself lose her before he absolutely had to.

  It had been too long since he’d cared. Too long since a woman had mattered to him, on any level.

  “You’re just pissed because I turned you down.”

  “Damn skippy,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, shooting one hip higher than the other, and tapping the toe of her work boot against the ground. “You’ve been flirting with me for a year. You wormed your way into my life. Buddied up with Jack. Charmed Nana. Hell, even Mike likes you and she doesn’t like anybody!”

  Cash gritted his teeth and fought down the snarl of anger nearly choking him. “You’re saying I did all that to get to you? Hell, no ego problems with you, are there, Josefina?”

  “Hah!” Her laugh was short, harsh, and sounded painful. “You’re going to call me an egotist? The man who thinks that if I go to his bed, I’ll then run away from my whole life because of the glory of his touch? Jesus, listen to yourself once in a while, will you?”

  He was tempted. God, how he was tempted. But he bit back on his own hunger and dialed down the temper streaking through him. “It ain’t gonna happen, Josefina,” he said, with a slow shake of his head.

  Jo felt every inch of her body humming with a fierce fury that had her trembling with the force of it. She’d expected him to say “sure” and take her off to his house. Hadn’t they been building toward this for a damn year?

  She had to have sex. It was time. Time to prove to herself one more time that she could do it.

  And damn it, Cash was supposed to be ready and willing.

  “Your problem is,” she said, her voice just a low hum of fury, “you’re afraid I’ll shatter your damn Woman Whisperer reputation. When you sleep with me and I don’t go, your rep is shot to hell.”

  “Whatever helps you sleep nights,” he muttered, raking one hand through his hair.

  “Oh,” she said, snorting a laugh, “I’ll sleep just fine, trust me.”

  She wouldn’t, though. She’d been prepared to do the deed and prove to herself one more time that she was still whole. That her past hadn’t really screwed up her present. That, damn it, she could be normal.

  So now, she was more determined than ever to get him into the sack. On her terms. No Marconi ever turned away from a challenge. Whether Cash wanted her or not, she was going to have him naked and panting.

  Soon.

  She leaned into him, until her mouth was only a breath from his. Keeping her gaze locked on his, she watched flashes of heat he couldn’t hide sparkle in his dark eyes and she knew she’d scored a point already. Foolish, foolish man. He’d already lost and he didn’t even know it.

  “You know what, Cash?” she asked, licking her lips and sighing just hard enough to brush her breath against him. “When I want you naked, I’ll have you.”

  He forced a smile. “Is that a threat?”

  She smiled, too, but there was no humor in it. “Baby, that’s a promise.”

  Ten

  “He said no.”

  “Wow,” Mike said, staring up at Jo from her usual perch on the sofa she was slowly coming to loathe. “Can’t imagine why.”

  Jo paced like a feral cat trapped in a hatbox. She snarled, she raged, she did everything but rip her own hair out with both hands. “Glad it’s clear to you, because I’m clueless.”

  “Well, duh.” Mike pushed herself up higher on the sofa and wished to hell she could stand on her own two feet. But the babies were taking up more and more of her body every damn day. Hell, she couldn’t even remember standing up anymore. After an ineffective minute or two, she gave it up and flopped back against the pillows. “For God’s sake, Jo,” she complained, “you don’t just walk up to somebody and say ‘I think we should have sex.’ ”

  “Why the hell not?” Jo demanded. “We’re adults. What’s the big deal?”

  “Not exactly filled with charm and romance . . .”

  “Who the hell said anything about romance?” Jo wanted to know. She wasn’t talking about hearts and flowers. Or the magic and glory of making love. She didn’t get that. Didn’t understand why everyone had to make it all sound like some fairy-tale nonsense anyway. “I’m talking about sex, here.”

  “Are you sure we’re related?”

  “He kissed me,” Jo shouted, stabbing her finger at Mike. “Yesterday. On the baseball field. In front of God and everybody.”

  “So naturally, you check your watch and say ‘Time to have sex, big boy.’ ”

  “Who the hell are you all of a sudden?” Jo said, coming to a dead stop to glare at her. “Until Lucas came along, I don’t remember you wasting too much time worrying about the niceties. You used to be all about ‘Get some and get gone.’ ”

  “Well,” Mike mused, “don’t I feel special?”

  “Sorry, sorry.” Shaking her head, Jo started pacing again. “It’s just . . . I finally decide, okay. Fine. I’ll sleep with him. I mean,” she continued, more to herself than to Mike, “he’s been prodding me for like ever and it’s time. I’m ready.”

  “What d’ya mean, it’s time?”

  “What?” She stopped again, then scowled. Stupid. She wasn’t getting into this with Mike or anyone else. “Nothing. Didn’t mean anything.”

  Mike watched her and saw more than frustration. She just wasn’t sure what. “What’re you not telling me?”

  “What’s who not telling you about what?” Sam came back into the room, looking pale, as usual.

  Mike spoke up, never taking her gaze off her big sister. “Jo asked Cash to have sex with her—”

  “You did?”

  “—and he said no.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “See?” Jo said, stabbing a finger at Sam, more grateful than she could say for the shift in the conversation. “She can’t believe it, either.”

  Mike ignored her. When Jo was in a rant, it was pointless to try to get through. So instead, she turned to Sam, sinking into the sofa opposite her. “She says ‘It’s time’ she had sex.”

  So much for the shift in conversation.

  Sam frowned. “There’s a specific time now?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering about,” Mike said, narrowing her eyes on Jo, who was studiously avoiding looking at both of them. “So what is it we don’t know?”

  Jo stopped walking for a minute, but the toe of her work boot tapped against the cool blue floor tiles. “Could we stay on topic, here?”

  “Which is?” Sam asked, lifting both feet to prop them up on the couch.

  “How do I get the man naked?” Jo demanded. “Aren’t you paying attention?”

  “Thought I was,” Sam said, but closed her eyes.

  “That’s simple enough,” Mike put in thoughtfully, still curious about her older sister’s evasion. Jo was usually about as subtle as a bulldozer. The fact that she was keeping something hidden worried Mike more than she wanted to admit.

  “Tell me then, O great one,” Jo said, sarcasm as thick as Nana’s accent.

  Mike shrugged. “Go over to
his house naked.”

  “What?” Jo’s eyes bugged out so far, it was a wonder they didn’t just pop out and roll across the floor.

  “Not naked-naked,” Mike said with a pitiful shake of her head. “Wear a coat or something, but be naked under it. Then when you take it off, I’m guessing he’ll be convinced.”

  Sam turned her head on the pillow to look at her. “You really used to lead an exciting life, didn’t you?”

  Mike shrugged and gave her a small smile. “We all have our strengths.”

  Wasn’t as easy to get out of the house as she’d hoped it would be, Jo thought. Nana, of course, had to feed her first and then practically make her fill out a form detailing where she would be—which, naturally, Jo had lied about. But on the upside, Nana was there. Which meant there was someone at the house to look after Jack.

  Standing in front of the mirror in her childhood bedroom, Jo belted her old gray raincoat and fanned the collar up around the back of her neck. Her fingertips ran along the lapels and she tried not to notice the trembling in her hands.

  She kept her hair in a ponytail, since fluffing it up would only pique Nana’s already rampant curiosity. Not much makeup, either, for the same reason. But because she was, despite Mike’s doubts, a female, she brushed on some last-minute mascara and a quick coat of lip gloss.

  Then she studied her reflection and saw not just herself, but the mirror image of the room that she’d grown up in. Dark green trim defined pale green walls dotted with posters of Paris, London, and Venice. No rock stars for Jo’s walls. She’d wanted to travel. Tour the Louvre. Ride a gondola.

  But that was before.

  A soft wind slipped through the open window and fluttered the white eyelet curtains. Jo shivered, closed her eyes briefly, and instantly, Steve Smith’s image rose up in her mind, haunting her as he had for ten long years.

  Her eyes flew open again and her breath came fast, furious, as she fought to ground herself in the present. When she was back in control, she saw only her room. Like a museum, it held the memories of a younger Jo. A Jo who still had plans and dreams and still trusted that somehow, she would find all she wanted.

  The girl who’d come home from college broken wasn’t there. No memories of her time at UC San Diego infringed on this sanctuary. She’d erased every hint of those days as completely as she’d wiped them from her mind.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she whispered, catching her own eye in the mirror. “He didn’t win. It didn’t affect me and I’m proving that again, tonight.”

  Grabbing up her purse, she started down the stairs, the heels of her black sandals clicking loudly on the wood. The phone rang and was snatched up before she hit the bottom of the stairs.

  In seconds, Nana snarled, “Bastardo,” and slammed the receiver down with enough force to cause the holy cards tucked behind the wall phone to flutter to the floor.

  “Was that Papa?” Jo didn’t know why she bothered asking, since the answer was evident.

  Nana stormed across the kitchen, snapped a dishtowel in the air, then flipped it over her shoulder. “I no talka to the bastardo.”

  The phone rang again almost instantly and the old woman whirled around and made a surprisingly nimble lunge for it. Jo was a step ahead of her, though, and grabbed the receiver first.

  “Papa?” She walked into the living room, and ignored the stream of viciously shouted Italian rising in the kitchen like steam off a pasta pot.

  “Josefina.” Papa’s voice carried through the phone, and just for a minute, Jo relaxed. God, she’d missed him. Even with things as unsettled between them as they were, she’d missed him.

  Her hand fisted around the receiver and she used her free hand to block out Nana’s raging from the other ear. “Papa. Why are you calling? You’re coming home in another day or two.”

  “Ah . . .”

  “What?”

  “Bastardos no getta into heaven!” Nana shouted in English, just in case her Italian curses were being ignored.

  “I thought,” Papa said, and his voice seemed fainter now, farther away. “Well, Grace and me thought we might stay another week.”

  “Papa, no.” Jo spoke up fast. “You’ve gotta come home.”

  “Something wrong? Is Jack okay?”

  “Jack’s fine,” she said, and walked all the way across the living room to the front window, trying, and failing, to escape Nana’s shouts. “But Papa, I can’t do all this alone. It’s too much. The business. Mike. Sam. Jack. Nana.”

  College, too, she added silently. And memories, Papa. They’re too thick. I can’t think. I can’t eat. And I can’t do this all alone anymore.

  She stared out at the dark street and noticed that Mrs. Sanchez had a new porch light and someone had trimmed the hedges in front of her house. Money Fairy largesse.

  And on the front lawn, Jack lay stretched out on the grass, his head pillowed on Bear’s side.

  “You’re right, Josefina,” Papa said, and even from a few thousand miles away, his tone was comforting, soothing. Like cool water on a fierce burn. “You’re right. We’ll come home. I’ll see you soon. A few days. Maybe a little more.”

  “Good.” She blew out a breath, amazed at the sense of relief pouring through her, and ignored Nana’s shouts, despite the fact that they were getting louder, to say again, “Good. See you soon, Papa.”

  With a dial tone humming in her ear, she walked back to the kitchen, hung up the phone, then faced Nana, a tiny tyrant, both cheeks flushed with impotent rage. “I’m going out now, Nana. I’ll see you later.”

  “The bastardo. He issa well?”

  “Papa’s fine.”

  She huffed out a breath, and nodded. “You go. You tell Jack to comea have his cookies.”

  “Okay.” Moving on instinct now, she bent down and kissed Nana’s cheek. “Don’t wait up.”

  “I no wait up,” Nana said, picking up a scrub brush to clean God knew what, since everything was blindingly clean already. “You go. Have a nicea time.”

  Nice? She wondered briefly what Nana would say if she knew her granddaughter was naked under her coat and on her way to have hot sweaty sex? Then Jo’s mind boggled at the very idea of how many rosaries would be said, so she shut that thought off.

  Outside, she yelled good-bye to Jack, and headed for her truck.

  “Are you goin’ to see Cash?” the boy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I come?”

  “No.”

  “Aw man . . .” Jack stood up in disgust and kicked at the grass.

  “Nana says for you to go get some cookies.”

  “ ’Kay, c’mon, Bear.”

  The old dog stood up slowly, carefully, and if he’d been an old man, Jo was sure she’d have heard him grunting and groaning. Then boy and dog disappeared into the house and she was alone with her plan.

  She looked into the rearview mirror, yanked out her ponytail, and fluffed her hair around her face. There was no excitement in her eyes. Just determination.

  And a determined Marconi couldn’t be stopped.

  Cash stalked through the house, temper flashing.

  At the first sound of the doorbell, he’d gone into fighting mode. All he could figure was that his father had come back for more money. Wouldn’t have been the first time. And damn it, he was in no mood to deal with Jared at the moment.

  He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone.

  Since that kiss at the ball field the day before, he’d been like a man on fire. Couldn’t stop moving even though he knew that running would only make the flames that much hotter.

  He hadn’t been able to get his mind off Jo and he knew damn well that was a bad sign. Should have just done it, he thought. Do it and get her the hell out of his life.

  He yanked the front door open and there she was. All the air left his body. Her hair was loose, long, and flowing over the shoulders of the ugly gray raincoat she wore. Her legs were bare and her feet were tucked into sandals with impossibly high heels.
<
br />   She looked like temptation and smelled like heaven.

  He slapped one hand on the doorjamb, just to steady himself. “What’re you doing here, Josefina?”

  “I’m here to have sex,” she said, and shot one hip higher than the other. “With you.”

  Every cell in his body lit up, but he tamped ’em right back down again. “I told you—”

  “I know what you told me,” she said, and tugged at the belt of her coat. “Remember what I told you . . . ?” She opened the coat and gave him his first look at paradise.

  Naked.

  Gloriously naked.

  His gaze locked on her and couldn’t have been pried off by a nuclear blast. His hot gaze traced every curve. Every line. And then started over again at the top. Seconds ticked past. His mouth went dry. His groin went rock hard.

  “Getting cold here,” Jo said.

  Gaze on her pebbled nipples, he said, “I noticed.”

  “So are we going to do this or do I tell everyone in town that you’re the Money Fairy?”

  He looked into her eyes and saw the challenge there. “Blackmail’s an ugly word.”

  “I prefer ‘extortion.’ ”

  Nodding, he said tightly, “We shouldn’t do this—”

  “Why not?”

  “—but we’re gonna.” He grabbed her, dragged her into the house, and lowered his mouth to hers. Hell, there was just so much a man could take. He had to have her. Had to feel her. Had to sink inside her before he exploded into a million jagged pieces.

  Her mouth fed on his, giving as good as she got. His tongue tangled with hers in an erotic rush of need.

  He slammed the door with a kick, then pulled her coat down and off her as he maneuvered her down the long hall toward the great room. A baseball game was playing on the TV, but the announcer’s voice faded into a murmur under the heavy drumming of his own heart in his ears.

  Stumbling down the two steps, he guided her, still kissing, still tasting, filling his hands with her curves, tweaking her nipples, feeling her jolt in his arms.

  “Do it now,” she said breathlessly as she tore her mouth from his. “Now, Cash.”