Page 9

CHAPTER NINE

AMELIA

“Her dog—it peed on me.”

That’s what I finally put forward by way of explanation after spending endless seconds staring. Jake Cunningham. Tall. Broad. Here. Complete with a gray sweater and dark jeans topped off with a hint of end-of-day scruff on his jaw.

Green eyes I never imagined seeing again examine me as if I’m oh-so-interesting—green eyes the exact color of Yvonne’s. The woman I spent the last half-hour getting acquainted with.

He’s her brother? My disbelief mounts. Is this still jet lag? Or what are they putting in New York pretzels? How in a city of eight million does one run into the same person twice in two days? I bite my lip and take a quick glance around to confirm I’m not in Fordwich.

“Peed on you,” Jake repeats. There’s no mistaking the incredulousness in his tone. “So, what—it claimed you and invited you here?”

Before I get a chance to clarify that Yvonne did the claiming, he flashes me a grin. “You might as well make yourself at home.” He pivots, then tilts his head inside in a gesture to follow.

I trail him into the house, but stop dead in my tracks when I spot a life-sized skeleton in leather, a choker with spikes, and fishnet stockings casually leaning against the end of the corridor. “What?” he asks when he turns back to me.

“Are you sure this isn’t another one of your adult film locations?” I question, suspicion creeping into my voice. “And is Yvonne really your sister? Or is she a co-star?”

His momentary amusement disappears as he cringes. “Gross. Of course, she’s my sister. For fuck’s sake, people even mistake us for twins sometimes.”

I glare at him some more. “Who knows, you might like your handsome face so much you wanted a look-alike to play kinky games with.”

A small smirk curls his lips. “You think I’m handsome.” Leave it to him to focus on that.

“I think you think you’re good looking.”

“And do you disagree with what I think?”

“Whatever. I’m not going into your sex dungeon.”

“It’s just Halloween prep,” Jake's eyes dance with mirth.

I cast him a dubious glance. “So, not another den of depravity?”

“Nah. We only do whips and chains for Valentine’s Day and anniversaries.”

I’m not entirely sure he’s kidding.

He lets out a deep groan of exasperation. “I promise I’m not a porn star.”

I side eye him again.

“Honey? Did I hear Yvonne?” A voice calls right as an older woman enters through a swing door on the other side of the room, enticing smells following in her wake. She pauses at the sight of me.

“Yep, she’s somewhere around,” Jake says. He leads me to her. “Meet my mother, Jeanine Cunningham. Mom, this is Amelia Stevens.”

This man came out of her ? She’s tiny, the blue jumper she has on goes to her knees. Although she appears to be in her fifties, those green eyes hold a spark just as sharp as Yvonne’s and Jake’s.

Even in my semi-shocked state, I manage a robotic “Lovely to meet you.” Because Gran didn’t raise a heathen.

Jeanine smiles warmly. “Likewise, Amelia. Please, have a seat.” She nods at the large living set.

The only bit not overrun with Halloween decorations is a small section of a loveseat beside another skeleton, this one in a police hat. I lower myself into the spot while she takes the armchair opposite after lifting its previous occupant, a creepy-looking porcelain-faced doll with wild hair, then perching it on her lap.

A second later, Jake wedges himself between me and the boney officer. His thigh presses against mine as he leans back, and even through the denim of his jeans, a spark of electricity comes through. I cross my legs, suddenly warmer than the temperature warrants, barely resisting the urge to squirm.

The last time we were this close, I was hovering over his face. So, this is an improvement, right? I steal a glance at him, catching a sly grin pulling at his lips, as if he's able to tell what’s going through my mind.

I exhale, trying to rid myself of those pesky pheromones, then survey the room. Despite the abundance of decorations, the overall effect is tasteful. The furnishings are clearly of the highest quality, with plush pillows and throws adding vibrant pops of color. The opposite end of the space is dominated by an elongated dining table for twelve. A highchair between the head and adjacent seats makes a thirteenth spot. “You have a lovely home.”

Jeanine beams at Jake. “Thank you. I’ve been lucky.” Her gaze flits between him and me. “How do you know each other?”

He blinks innocently, a slight smirk playing at his mouth.

“Umm…” How does one tell a mother that she met her son when he was handcuffed to a bed in the politest way? Not that it’s my place. I know too well the sting of parental disappointment. Before I can decide, Jake responds, “She’s here with Yvonne.”

Yvonne enters the living room. “I ran into Amelia at the park. She’s visiting from the UK.” She drops a kiss on her mum’s head then shoves a plastic bin off an ottoman and sinks onto it. The resemblance between mother and daughter is uncanny.

“London?” Jeanine smiles at me.

“Nothing so glamorous. Tiny little town called Fordwich.”

“I see. What do you think of New York so far?”

“It’s been rather…eventful. Plenty of…character.” I cast Jake another sidelong glance, only to find his lips twitching again.

Her eyes spark with interest as she leans in. “Oooh…that sounds juicy…”

Jake cuts her off. “This is New York. Everyone’s a little odd. It’s a thing here. Broadway shows, Michelin Starred restaurants, celebrity sightings, crazy people. They aren’t without their charms.” He bats his lashes at me. He waggles his brows and gestures at himself.

I stifle a laugh, instead dryly respond, “Until you’re interacting with one at close range.”

“Have you done any touristy things yet?” Jeanine jumps in, and I’m glad to turn my attention toward her.

“A couple, but I hope to do more sightseeing tomorrow. I’ve heard the museums here are incredible.”

“What about Broadway? Though you have West End in England—I’m not sure how different it is…” she muses.

“Amelia’s into music,” Yvonne announces.

I bob my head in agreement. “I’m planning to check out some of the live performance venues. But I do have a few tourist things I’d like to see. The Imagine mosaic by John Lennon in Central Park is high on the list.”

“Ah, in Strawberry Fields.” Approval is evident in Jeanine’s tone.

“If you want to explore the park further, there’s Bethesda Fountain and Belvedere Castle, and the zoo, of course. Though I’m a little conflicted about all those confined creatures in captivity.” Yvonne frowns.

“I don’t think you need to go to the zoo for that,” I mutter under my breath. “You can find all sorts of things caged up in this city…”

Jake blithely says, “Some things are just meant to be free.”

A frazzled looking woman emerges from behind the swing door. “Mom, how many teaspoons of ground ginger in your lasagna sauce again?”

“Two.” Jeanine beckons her closer, “Carla, come meet Amelia.”

I’m introduced to another sister, her hair’s the same shade as the rest of them but cut in a slick bob. She’s in a short dress with an apron reading, “I’m not arguing, I’m just explaining why I’m right.”

“Amelia, any dietary restrictions?” Jeanine asks, as if my joining them for supper is a given.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly stay,” I interject. “I already had something to eat earlier.” Except at the mention of food, I’m starving again, and my stomach chooses that moment to rumble, exposing me as a liar.

“Your sneaker’s in the wash,” Yvonne reminds me. Oh yes, and there’s that hostage situation.

As if that decides things, Jake gets to his feet. “I’ll set another place at the table.”

I could still Cinderella out of here… I sneak a look at him. Probably the right thing to do if I want to steer clear of Prince Charming. My gaze flits to Yvonne. I don’t think my odd attraction to her brother would endear me to her. But…it would be rude to refuse.

“Actually, honey, would you mind grabbing the gray box from your room? It’s on top of the cabinet and I couldn’t reach it.”

“Sure,” Jake responds easily, exiting through another doorway, this one flanked by a battalion of bats.

Carla returns to the kitchen, presumably to handle the ginger issue.

With the wild-haired doll still in her hands, Jeanine stands and walks over to the mantle, nestling it between two silver-framed photos before stepping back to inspect her work. She motions me over. “Think it looks ready to capture the souls of unsuspecting visitors?”

I join her, peering at the arrangement. While I’m not an expert, I’d say it has promise.

Jake comes back with a box, his forearms bulging with the effort, and sets it down on the coffee table, then leans against the hearth as his mum dives into it, rummaging through a Pandora’s Box of ghouls and goblins.

I watch in morbid fascination as she extracts plastic pumpkins, a bucket of slime and a mobile made of Barbie heads with their hair shorn which she thrusts it in my direction. I gingerly take it, trying not to fixate on their painted, long-lashed judgment.

When a stuffed rat makes an appearance, Luna snatches it right out of her hands and dashes out, Yvonne hot on her heels. Jeanine keeps digging, unbothered, until she finds some black, gauzy fabric, holding it up with a triumphant “Ah-ha.”

She turns to Jake. “Honey, would you please drape this over the chandelier?”

He takes it from her outstretched fingers and surveys the light fixture. When he reaches up, the back of his sweater stretches, making the muscles along his spine ripple and bulge, and I follow them down to the sliver of tanned skin that peeks above the waistband of his dark jeans—and below it a rather scrumptious arse that’s just as enticing covered up. I swallow.

Maybe I’ve somehow imprinted on him because he’s the first man I’ve met in the city. Or only the second one I’ve ever seen naked. Or it could just be he is yummy. Objectively speaking, of course.

I tear my eyes off Jake’s bottom, but not before he turns and catches me looking. He grins knowingly. A dimple I’d not noticed previously flashes on his left cheek. Bubbles fizz through my bloodstream. Fine, so he’s not entirely troll-like. But that’s as much as I’m willing to admit.