Jeff clutched the paper with the combinations written on it in his sweaty palm.
And a light bulb turned on in his head. Why the fuck was he thinking about sharing this shit with that low-life Max? This was his inheritance, not theirs.
And here he was in the house with Grandpa still in the hospital and Wayne out cold. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to have a look.
He walked toward his grandfather’s bedroom. Where would the safe be? Probably behind one of the fake Impressionist paintings Norman was so fond of. He checked the one above the bed first. No dice. Then the one over his dresser. Nothing. Lastly, the one on the wall facing the bed. Pay dirt—a safe, built right into the wall.
He removed the painting from the wall and reached to touch the safe, when he realized his fingerprints would be everywhere. Fuck. He’d ruined this already. No way could he open this safe now. He’d have to come back with gloves.
But his curiosity nagged at him. Even Wayne didn’t know what was in this safe. Damn. What could Norman be hiding in here?
But no. Not worth it. He couldn’t risk his prints being anywhere on the safe. They were already on the frame of the painting. He walked to Grandpa’s dresser and fumbled around, finding a pair of socks. Quickly he brushed them over the frame of the painting, rubbing hard, hoping he was at least marring the oil of his prints enough so they wouldn’t be recognizable should it occur to anyone to look there.
What the fuck? He’d share the info with Max and the gang. Yeah, they were low-life scum, but they’d been his brothers when his own brother had written him off. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to have back up.
He left the room and walked back by Wayne’s bedroom. Still out cold.
A boulder of guilt gripped him and he entered the room again. He put his hand to Wayne’s neck. Thank God. His pulse was strong. He’d be okay.
Jesus Christ! I just drugged my brother! What kind of an animal was he?
He’d promised the boys he’d help them rob Norman. Old Norman deserved what he got. But that would be his last crime. After that, he was going straight. He wanted a life he could be proud of, a life Mia could be proud of.
He was going to propose to her.
He imagined a little girl with his light skin and Mia’s ebony hair. What a beauty. She’d have brown eyes, no doubt. Both he and Mia had brown eyes. Big brown doe eyes, his little girl.
He smiled and left Wayne’s bedroom, stalked down the hall quietly, through the living room and out the back door where he left it locked as if no one had been there.
He didn’t go home.
Chapter Fourteen
Jeff gazed into Mia’s eyes as he unbuttoned her shirt and eased it off her shoulders. It fell in a checkered pool at her feet. His touch was like fire, igniting her skin as he grazed his fingers up her arms to her bra straps, and then eased them over her shoulders too. With one hand, he reached behind her and unclasped the garment. It joined the blouse on the floor. Her ample breasts fell gently against her chest. Her brown nipples were already rigid, eager for his attention.
“Still so beautiful, Mia,” he said. “You haven’t changed at all.”
She heated and knew ruddiness was spreading over her cheeks and bosom. She looked down. “I’ve given birth to three children and aged thirty-plus years. I’ve changed.” Not to mention the twenty or more pounds she was carrying since they’d last made love.
He cupped her cheek and drew her gaze to his. “You haven’t changed to me.”
She nearly melted to a pool of syrup on the floor among her discarded clothes.
Jeff glided a finger along her jawline, down the contours of her neck, to her shoulder. Maria quivered. He avoided her breasts, though she ached for him to touch them. His finger followed her upper arm to her lower arm, until he reached her hand and clasped it.
Gathering her courage, she brought his hand to her breast. “Touch me, Jeff.”
He cupped one heavy globe and squeezed it gently. “God, Mia.”
“Oh, Jeff”—she leaned into him—“I’ve missed you so much.”
“Mia.” He leaned down and crushed his mouth to hers.
They’d kissed once before, in the kitchen, but this kiss held so much more. This kiss held promise, and Mia gave herself to the moment—gave herself to Jeff. She’d always belonged to Jeff, always, even all those years she’d spent with his brother. She’d never been Wayne’s. Only Jeff’s.
Their lips slid together and their tongues tangled. Jeff tasted of the tannic red wine they’d shared, and she drank of him, let his essence pour into her and fill the emptiness that had tormented her for so long.
But Jeff…was he sure? He’d resisted her for so long, even when she’d brazenly come to him in the middle of the night. Maria had to make sure this was what he wanted. Though it pained her, she forced her mouth away from his.