They would be brown and pink, and her areola would be quarter sized or bigger. God, he fucking loved tits. He could spend an hour at those nipples, licking and sucking and tonguing and making them his. He wanted to rest his head on those breasts. Comfort and warmth were right there. He could rest his cheek against her soft skin and then he would rear up and ram his cock inside. Damn straight.
Comfort and hard fucking. That was what he wanted from Georgia. Everything. Yeah. Everything that could happen between a man and a woman and his best friend, who also loved the woman. That was it.
His phone. He needed to check his phone. It was buzzing. He’d turned it off while they were in the air, but that beeping had started the minute they had touched down and he’d flipped it back on. He quickly ran down the list as the hostess opened the door to the plane. He’d made sure there wasn’t far to go from his private landing strip to the front door of his new, state-of-the-art house. It was fitting that he would see it for the first time with Georgia. He’d built it for her. “Anything special?” Georgia asked as the hostess passed her the Louis Vuitton roll-on he’d bought for her and convinced her he’d found on Canal Street.
He smiled as he found a number he knew well on the screen. Logan. Damn straight. He loved it when a plan came together. “Naw. It’s just some office stuff. I’ll be with you in a second, sweetheart.”
She gave him a smile and started off the plane, giving him the privacy he needed. He pressed the button to start the first message and hoped all his pieces were in working order. It was a long row of dominoes he’d set in motion. There was always the chance that one had gone astray.
Stella’s Western twang came across the line. “Hi, Miss Hill. I wanted to let you know that I found the perfect man to house-sit for your client. I’ve got the paperwork ready, but I went ahead and gave him the key. I know this kid. He’s good people. Hope you don’t mind. Call me.”
He didn’t mind. He’d totally planned it that way. He moved on and pressed the button that brought him to Logan’s message. A deep voice came over the line, and Seth couldn’t help but smile.
“Seth, you shit ball. How dare you pull this crap with me. I’m paying you back. Every fucking cent.” He wasn’t going to let that happen, but Logan’s angry voice warmed him because it was the first time in a year he’d heard emotion in that laconic Western drawl. “You can’t think I wouldn’t fucking find out. I’m pissed as shit.” There was a pause in the line. “I need a favor. Look, man, there’s this chick I met out here in Dallas. She’s in New York now, and I need you to look for her. She’s just a friend, but she’s cool, you know? I like her. Not like like her, but like her. Like a friend. I want to make sure she’s okay. So just fucking drop me a line and we’ll work out a payment plan and you can do me a solid. K?”
The message dropped and Seth sat back, a deep satisfaction running through his system.
No. Logan didn’t like like her. God, were they back in junior high? Was Logan somewhere writing her name all over his notebooks? Yeah. Didn’t like her. Not at all.
Seth got out of his seat as he dialed the one number he didn’t want to dial. There was more than one reason he was here. Oh, sure, he would have come no matter what, but he had an obligation.
“Hello.” No matter how Seth sliced it, Henry Flanders sounded dark and dangerous.
Maybe if he didn’t know what he knew, he would shrug and just call that dark voice masculine, but the CIA operative Henry had been was still there. Seth was one of three people in the whole world who knew that Henry Flanders, mild-mannered former professor, used to be John Bishop, CIA assassin.
“Henry, it’s Seth.”
A low chuckle came over the line, and Seth was struck by just how far the man had come. He’d never laughed before he’d come to Bliss. “Hey, man, how’s it going? I read that Time article about you. You’re doing pretty awesome. I’m proud of you, Seth.”
An odd feeling went through him, and he had to blink back stupid, dumb-ass tears. Over the years, Henry Flanders had been a source of strength. They’d talked often over the last five years. It had started out as Henry simply checking in to make sure his cover was solid, but at some point in time, they’d just started talking.
So he didn’t prevaricate or drag out what he had to say. “Someone is looking for Henry Flanders.”
Seth could hear the temperature drop. Fuck.
“Really? How deep does it go?” Henry’s voice had gone silky and smooth, perfectly deadly.
And there was nothing Seth could offer him but the truth. “I shut it down, but he went deep. It’s possible that you’ve been compromised. I’m looking into it. Whoever is looking for you, they’re serious, man. I’ve been running around like a dog chasing my tail trying to find this guy. He wants me to believe he’s a twelve-year-old looking for his bio dad.”
“Fuck.”
Double fuck. “I’m going to take care of this.”
A long pause. “Seth, this is my business. I’ll take care of it.”
As any halfway decent mentor would say. But Seth knew the value of a really great father figure. He’d had a perfectly shitty one for most of his life, and then he’d had Henry. “I’m going to make sure this works out. I promise. I’m in town.”
Henry’s voice was back to smooth and calm. Henry and Nell were the only ones who knew he’d bought all that land. He’d even let Nell pick the builder so he could ensure that the place was as bio-friendly as possible and he could avoid any protests she might mount. “Well, hello, neighbor. The cabin is beautiful. I would love to see you. Tomorrow. Lunch at Stella’s. Nell will be happy you’re here, son.”
The son comment hit him hard, and he promised himself that he wouldn’t let Henry down. Nell had no idea what her husband used to do, and it should stay that way. After all, the dude hadn’t eaten meat in like five years. If that wasn’t love, then Seth didn’t know what was. “I’ll be there.”
The line clicked off, and Seth took a long breath before pocketing his phone.
“OMG, you call that a cabin?” Georgia asked, poking her head back in the plane. “I was prepared for something small. What is the square footage on that?”
Satisfaction coursed through his veins. She would like it even better when she walked through those doors. “Ten thousand, sweetheart. And I made sure your room is up to your standards. Tempur-Pedic bedding, thousand thread count sheets, and a walk-in closet to die for.”
She smiled, but there was a little shake of her head that let him know she thought he was a little out there. “I’m not sure I need a walk-in closet, Seth. And why am I coming on your vacation? Shouldn’t you have, I don’t know, invited a friend?”
“You’re my friend.” He took the stairs quickly, the chilly night air hitting his lungs. Yeah, he loved that. It was springtime, but the nights were still nice and cold.
“Seth, I’m your employee.” Her mouth settled into a frown as she strode to keep up with him. She was wearing a hot-as-hell pair of Gucci boots with gold studs on the heel. She’d gotten them the day before with her brother’s credit card. Ben had very happily sent Seth the receipt with a note and a deeply sarcastic smiley face. It said that in the future, he’d be sending all of Georgia’s receipts Seth’s way. Seth was sure Ben had laughed as he’d signed that note, but Seth had been more than happy to write that check. The fact that she was wearing clothes he’d purchased for her—from the St. John blouse to the killer Rag & Bone jeans, to those boots that would look good wrapped around his neck—did nothing but make Seth smile on the inside. And he’d paid for lunch, too, because he liked knowing that she wasn’t hungry because he’d fed her.
He was sure there was a psychiatrist somewhere who would say his possessiveness bordered on the psychotic, but he didn’t give a damn.