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My heart pounds as I stare at myself in the mirror of one of Darragh’s guest bathrooms. A towel slung low on my waist, I walk into the bedroom and get dressed. We all dropped everything and got on Kieran’s plane to Seattle last Thursday, but knowing I’d end up bringing Cormac back here for his court case, I snagged a suit. One suit.
I need more clothes. Killer threads that will make Jillian’s mouth water again looking at me.
Tapping my phone, I call my old Harvard housemate who practices in L.A.
“Eoghan O’Rourke,” Lincoln Stone answers with that old-money, New England accent.
“Lincoln Stone, Esquire.” I get right to the point. “I need a dozen suits. Don’t have time to have them made. Can you hook me up?”
“Where are you?”
“Vegas.”
“How soon can you get to L.A.?”
I check my watch. “Can you send a helicopter for me?”
“I’m not that rich,” he snaps, even though he is.
We have a plane and a luxury helicopter. All modes that are not at my disposal right now because I’m here and not in Astoria where I should be.
I should go home, but now I can’t. Not when I can’t get Jillian out of my head, all while her idea of a sex hangover is to get on a dating app and ask for more sex!
I glance at the City Sinners app again, and my stomach begins to settle when no more matches show up. Jillian can check her settings at any time, see the BLOCK feature, and swipe it off.
I can delete the app altogether.
I’ll give her hot, dirty, meaningless hookups. Only, they won’t be meaningless.
She’s mine. And no one touches what’s mine.
“All right, Linc. Give me a few hours. I’ve always wanted to take that drive through the desert.” And hand over a rental car with thousands of additional miles on it like the brat I am.
The two days it will take to drive back and forth will give me a chance to get out my head before I do something stupid like break into Jillian’s house while she’s not home and sniff her panties.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jillian
On Monday, I slog into my office, still sore from the pounding my pussy got on Friday night. I keep checking my phone for a message from Eoghan, but he never asked for my number.
I launched the City Sinners app, but it must be processing my profile because, even though Trista promised my phone would blow up with offers, I haven’t gotten a single hit.
Moments after I fire up my computer, Daniel’s assistant, Abigail, appears at the door to my office. “Mr. Vance wants to see you.”
I eye the coffee I haven’t even sipped and debate bringing it with me. I’m his sister after all. Sighing, I figure it’s not worth it. I push away from my desk and follow Abigail, wondering if she’s a size 2 or a size 0.
Tugging my skirt, feeling the waistband pinch my skin, I reach Daniel’s office and let my eyes wander inside. Through hard work, and no sex life, I worked up to deputy of this division. When Daniel was moved from Domestic Crimes to Organized Crime, I cringed, but also hoped since he knew me, knew how hard I worked, he’d groom me for his job.
Forcing me to give up the Cormac O’Rourke case knocked that down a peg.
“You wanted to see me?” I smile sweetly.
I’ve also kept our secret that we’re related.
“Close the door and have a seat.” His stoic voice worries me.
But I close the door and smoothly sit down. “What’s up?”
