Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 2

Prologue

“Fetishes of any sort are a direct result of the Oedipus complex,” the doctor sniffed. “Was your mother fat?”

“No.”

“Aha! Then your mother was thin and you subconsciously reject your innate attraction to her by fantasizing about plus-sized women.”

Jake Chamberlin rolled his eyes and sighed. Fully reclined on Dr. Jordan’s couch, he wasn’t sure if the Freudian psychiatrist could see his frustration or not. “My mother wasn’t thin either,” Jake growled, running a hand over the line of his jaw. “She was average. Dead-ass average.”

“And your rejection of average has resulted in your current fascination with chubby women. It’s so blatantly obvious.”

“Blatantly obvious?”

“Yes. A blind man could see it.”

I can’t believe I’m paying this fucking moron $300 an hour. “I see,” Jake drawled.

The pompous doctor had an answer for everything. He reminded Jake of those TV psychics who changed their interpretations of events based on the answers their audience members gave. The shrink had missed his calling. He should have been on some obscure cable channel wearing a swami’s turban and looking into a crystal ball as he dispensed advice from the nether regions of time and space. Lord knows he might have been more effective.

Closing his eyes, he tuned out Dr. Snake-Oil-Salesman and took a deep breath. The only blatantly obvious thing happening in this room was the realization that this psychoanalyst wouldn’t be any more help to Jake than had the other five shrinks who’d preceded him. Six psychiatrists, two faith healers and a weird back-alley voodoo priestess later, fucking a stick-thin model was no more appealing now than it had ever been.

Jake needed to get over this unnatural attraction to what society labeled “chubby chicks”, and he needed to do it quickly. The star quarterback of the New York Bloods should have a trophy wife—a young, blonde, stick-thin Barbie doll with fake tits and a sprayed-on tan. That’s what all men in his position coveted and he should be no exception to the rule. He didn’t like being different. He wanted to be the man society expected him to be.

“…because your mother’s average weight was so arousing, you subconsciously began fantasizing about…”

Jake sat up, frowning. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. The Bloods had their work cut out for them. One more win and they’d be Super Bowl bound. At age thirty-seven, he knew this was his last shot at the ring. He should have retired two years ago after sustaining his third knee injury, but Jake had wanted to retire as a winner.

He’d deal with his problems after he had that ring on his finger. And, he thought with a grunt, after he found someone who could actually help him.

“This is stupid!” Jake snapped, standing up. At six-foot-five-inches and weighing in the vicinity of two hundred-sixty pounds, he knew he was an intimidating figure to most people. He supposed by the wary look on Dr. Quack’s face that the shrink was no exception. He didn’t care. The fucker had wasted enough of his time. “I don’t want to fuck my mother. Not consciously, subconsciously or unconsciously!” I’ll have nightmares tonight just from the suggestion! “Using your own logic, I think you are the one who wants to fuck his mother. It’s all you can think about!”

“Well, of course I do on a subconscious level,” Dr. Jordan whined. “All men do.”

Jake grimaced. He would need counseling to get over this counseling. His brown eyes narrowed. “Thank God I’m not like all men.” He picked up his leather coat and shrugged into it. “Get some help, dude,” he advised as he stalked toward the door. “Seriously.”

Chapter One

Robyn DiMarco decided that if today wasn’t the most aggravating day of her thirty-four years of life, it certainly rated right up there. She had woken this morning to hair that wouldn’t be tamed, broken plumbing, loud garbage trucks and a coffeepot on the fritz. To top it all off, the elevator in the co-op she lived and worked in had apparently joined a union and opted to go on strike. The clock hadn’t even chimed noon and already she was tired, hungry, caffeine-deprived and, six flights of stairs later, rather surly.

“Yo! You gonna fix this elevator in my lifetime or what?”

“I could crawl to Jersey faster than this!”

“What about the water? My kids’ laundry doesn’t clean itself, ya know!”

Exiting the stairwell, Robyn walked through the lobby and headed toward the front door. Completely in agreement with the other co-op owners who were bickering back and forth with the building’s maintenance manager, she harrumphed her solidarity before opening the heavy door standing between herself and Mulberry Street. Ordinarily she would have been polite and at least said a passing hello to her neighbors, but she needed a cup or three of coffee before politeness was biologically capable of setting in.

Besides, she was a writer. Coffee was a must for her occupation, and those suspense novels weren’t going to write themselves.

“Yo! Robby! Where you going?”

Robyn sighed. She wasn’t in the mood to be civil to the others in her co-op. The fact that she was related to all of them made her feel even less inclined. That was the good part about family, she conceded. You could have your bitchy moments and all would still be forgiven. Well…eventually, anyway.

“What are you? My damn keeper?” Robyn asked in fluent Italian, turning to face her brother. “I need air and I need coffee. And not necessarily in that order.”

Dominic “Nicky” DiMarco flashed her a grin. The same devilish smile that had broken the hearts of countless women. “Bring me back some, sis,” he returned in English. “Coffee, I mean. You can keep the air.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“That’s what she said.”

“And that is soooo last Tuesday, Nicky.”

“So is your hair.”

“That’s what he said.”

“That don’t make any kinda sense!”

Robyn grunted, conceding defeat. She’d pick a verbal fight with her brother later. Like after she’d pumped enough caffeine in her system to regain her usual bitchy wit. “I’ll bring you back some coffee,” Robyn growled as she turned and reopened the front door. Her speech reverted to Italian, the constant flip-flop in languages a natural part of life for those native to New York City’s Little Italy. “And a muzzle for your mouth.”

“And cannoli,” Nicky called out to her rapidly departing backside. “Plain! No chocolate chips.”

Robyn smiled her first real smile of the day. Her annoyingly loveable Romeo of a brother would get his cannoli. And he’d get it with chocolate chips.

Jake decided that being a freshly minted Super Bowl hero was anti-climatic when you didn’t have a sexy woman to celebrate with and fawn all over you.

That his idea of what made a woman sexy wasn’t shared by the average male was starting to matter less and less. Especially since he couldn’t even pretend anymore. Shutting his eyes and fantasizing that whatever stick-thin model he happened to be fucking at the time looked a lot less sticklike and a lot more voluptuous no longer worked. As soon as he touched her body and his hands felt nothing but skin stretched over bones…

He frowned, recalling his last disaster of a date with that Swedish underwear model. His dick had gone limp inside her. He supposed his cock was bigger while soft than most men’s were while fully erect, because Ingrid hadn’t appeared to notice. He’d managed to keep up the charade until she got her rocks off, faked an orgasm at the precise moment she climaxed, made some dumb excuse about needing to wake up early the next morning and got the fuck out of there. That had been four long months ago.

Sitting in the far corner of Cha Chas, his favorite bistro in Little Italy, Jake absently toyed with his Super Bowl ring while he did his best to go unnoticed. He wasn’t in the mood to sign autographs or talk to any dipshit reporters. He was in the mood to eat pasta and get laid. A man with a sexual appetite like his couldn’t be celibate for this long without a consequence. Judging from how rock hard his dick was for no reason, he supposed a serious case of blue balls was that consequence.

Sitting with his back toward most of the other patrons, Jake broodingly stared at the bistro’s pastry counter. He asked himself why he cared what other people thought about his sexual preference. For the first time in his life, he could understand how a gay man felt when he knew it was time to come out of the closet. Jake was as far from gay as a man could be, but it was the best analogy he could think of.

I love chubby chicks. So fucking what?

At least he didn’t get wood from fantasizing about his own mother like that psycho shrink. He didn’t want to eat dirt, get shit on or smell strange women’s underwear, like on that TV special he’d seen about fetishes. And he wasn’t anything like Tony, the Bloods’ star receiver. Holy shit! What a mess that guy was. What the press didn’t know about his teammate—but Jake unfortunately did—was that Tony would only date women who were unnaturally hairy in all the wrong places and who didn’t mind him wearing a diaper to bed before they fucked.

Jake pursed his lips. Why Tony had confided that particular piece of information in him, he had no idea. To this day he couldn’t pass by a box of Pampers in the grocery store without grimacing.

Deep in distressed thought, Jake absently ran a hand through his thick mane of hair, which reminded him that he needed to stop by the barber shop to get it buzzed off. He’d never let his dark hair go so long without a trim. He preferred to keep it crew-cut short and the shit was damn near to his shoulders now.

Distraction and depression, he decided. The state of his hair, like everything else not working in his life, was a direct result of distraction and depression.

“Ciao, bella signora!”

“Ciao, Marco! Ho bisogno di cannoli.”

“Nicky?”

“Sì.”

Jake glanced over to the pastry counter in time to watch one of Cha Chas’ employees share a laugh with a customer. He started to look away, uninterested because he couldn’t understand a word they were saying, but found himself doing a double take instead.

He stilled. His damn dick that wouldn’t stay down for nothing got impossibly stiffer. “Holy shit,” he mumbled.

Jake’s dark eyes narrowed in desire as he watched the embodiment of his every sexual fantasy throw her head back and laugh. Her laughter was vibrant, enthusiastic and very real. And, he thought, unable to stop himself from cracking a half-smile, her happiness was apparently contagious.

The mystery woman finished her conversation with the bistro’s employee, then turned and walked toward the empty table next to his. She didn’t notice Jake, which was fine by him, because it gave him more time to stare at her.

You. Are. Fucking. Hot.

The more he saw, the harder he got.

She was average in height and very, very curvy. She wore a tight little yellow sundress that, thankfully, left little to the imagination. Her breasts were round and large, her hips wide and provocative. He loved the way they swayed as she walked, tugging at the sundress, forcing her to show off legs that Jake wanted wrapped around his waist in the worst way. Her thighs were fleshy, not bony, thin or muscular. As she sat down at the table nearest him, Jake couldn’t help but notice her tummy wasn’t flat either. There was flesh there—sexy, hot, rounded flesh that looked so ripe and perfect.

Everything about her looked…right.

She didn’t look stereotypically Italian-American, not that he would have minded if she had. Jake had always found women of Mediterranean heritage to be the embodiment of sexiness. But Italian women, at least in theory, were supposed to have dark hair and eyes. Jake’s mystery woman had the curly hair he expected to see in this part of town, but it was a warm honey color that appeared to be natural. Her eyes, sparkly green, were definitely real and not contact lenses. He could always tell when someone with naturally dark eyes was wearing fakes because the lenses never seemed to completely cover the iris of the eyes.

Her skin, however, was very Mediterranean. She had a natural olive undertone that had darkened into a fuck-me bronze with the sun. The contrast of brown skin against light eyes was powerful, causing her baby greens to glow just a little.

Jake shifted in his seat. He blew out a slow, measured breath and counted to ten. He wished that he’d masturbated before he’d left his apartment because if his cock got any harder, it was conceivable that it might explode.

Fuck! I need to rub one out before I fucking die.

And then she smiled at him and his dick situation became unbearable. She had dimples, for fuck’s sake. Everything he’d ever fantasized about in a woman and she had dimples to boot.

Jake tried to smile back but, judging by the expression on her face, he doubted he’d succeeded. She gave him the same look he’d seen other women give to those crazy, unbathed dudes with ZZ Top beards who walked around Times Square talking to themselves and shouting at passersby to repent because the end of times was near.

Jake’s mystery woman quickly averted her gaze and sipped from her cup of Italian coffee. She glanced everywhere but at him, apparently trying to stave off any possibility that he might engage her in conversation that involved telling her to repent.

Great! Why didn’t I masturbate before I left this morning?!

Pissed off at himself, his dick and the universe in general, Jake decided it was time to pull out the mental big guns. He thought back on Dr. Jordan and his belief that all men wanted to fuck their mothers. Jake forced himself to consider what his own mom might look like naked—Jesus H Christ!—and the very image was, thank the Lord above, enough to make his cock deflate faster than a popped balloon.

Jake whimpered, the image in his mind’s eye more painful than his previous erection. The woman of his fevered fantasies gave him an almost imperceptible sideways glance. Clearing her throat, she stood up and moved to a different table.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuuuck!

Robyn had thought the guy sitting in front of her was the epitome of handsome, but she quickly surmised that his looks were only part of the package—and she certainly didn’t want what came with them. When she smiled at him, his face turned red and a pained expression crossed his face. She wasn’t certain if he was insane or if he needed to use the toilet—either way, no good.

Too bad, too. He really was good-looking with his dark hair and eyes, strong jaw and Roman nose. And his body…

She sighed. No words could do that hard gladiator’s body a lick of justice. And wasn’t it her luck that the first guy who’d managed to snag her attention in months was either crazy, constipated or both. Could this day get any more annoying? She frowned, doubting it.

Glancing away, Robyn pretended to be inordinately fascinated by her cup of caffè con panna. She didn’t want to embarrass the man or make him feel inferior in any way. He couldn’t help that he was different, after all.

Poor man. Now that she thought about it, he was probably one of those idiot savants like on Rainman. Dustin Hoffman had deserved that Oscar, she decided. His portrayal of Raymond had been hauntingly reminiscent of the man sitting before her. The coincidence tugged at her heartstrings.

The man whimpered, garnering her attention. He squeezed his eyes closed real tight and started mumbling to himself.

Robyn’s jaw dropped. She quickly decided that her heartstrings could go to hell.

This guy was no idiot savant. He was just plain crazy. While the former produced empathy, the latter invoked nothing but good old-fashioned fear.

She stood up, praying to God the man was too absorbed in his own delirious thoughts to notice. Feeling his dark gaze following her, she inwardly cursed then motioned to Marco to hurry up with her brother’s cannoli.

Robyn plopped down on a chair at a different table while she waited. It was official. This was definitely the most aggravating day of her life.

Chapter Two

He was following her. She hadn’t visually confirmed the hunch yet, but she knew he was. All of her senses screamed that she was being tailed. The situation was alarming. All Robyn had wanted was a damn cup of coffee and now she was being hunted by Conan the Crazy, Constipated Barbarian.

Fine, she thought, with grim satisfaction. He could go ahead and follow her home. Nicky would be there. Her brother would take a baseball bat to his head before turning him over to the police. Or worse for the loony tune, the Mulberry Street version of the police.

Robyn picked up her pace. There was something familiar about the guy and she couldn’t pinpoint precisely what it was. Had he followed her before and she simply hadn’t noticed? The dramatic writer in her sternly weighed that possibility.

Bah! It didn’t matter. Now that she’d worked out in her mind how this scenario would play out, she was very eager to get home. She might not even tease Nicky with the chocolate chip cannoli before giving him the box of plain ones. She’d never been more desirous of her brother’s presence in her life. It was amazing how Nicky’d gone from being an annoying little shit to the hero of her heart in the blink of an eye.

Still, she needed to know if her hunch was correct. Maybe the stranger wasn’t tracking her. Perhaps her writer’s imagination had taken over, causing her to feel unnecessary alarm.

Robyn came to an abrupt halt in the middle of Mulberry Street. A bag of coffees and two boxes of cannoli in her hands, she whirled around like a waitressing pro, spilling nothing. Her heart rate picked up as she scanned the crowd for her nemesis. Little Italy was jammed with tourists as usual, making the task somewhat challenging.

Her breath caught. There he was.

Eyes wide as saucers, Robyn spun back around and ran like hell.

She was grateful Marco had wrapped the coffee tightly because the last thing she needed was scorching liquid burning the hell out of her. Never mind the fact that her frazzled brain was going to need one of the cups as soon as she reached the safety of her home.

Robyn could hear her crazed stalker muttering something as he closed in on her from behind. Holy shit! Nicky better be within shouting distance!

She was almost to her building. Another few steps and—

Two large, maniacal hands seized Robyn from behind. She gasped, her heart falling into the pit of her stomach. Half a dozen scenarios about how to escape flooded her mind, including throwing her precious, hot coffee right in her attacker’s face. Uncertain what to do—and really wanting her damn coffee unscathed—Robyn did the only other thing she could think of. She screamed.

“Nickyyyyyyyyy!”

Jake had never felt like a bigger moron. He should have caught up to her long ago and tried to explain himself—minus the erection part—but he’d been too busy ogling her round, sexy ass to think straight. And now she was screaming for some damn Nicky person. He just hoped Nicky was another woman and not her boyfriend. After all this, she’d better not be spoken for!

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Jake urged, easing up on her shoulders. “I’m not going to hurt you. Iya…” He tried to think of a plausible explanation for following her. Preferably one that didn’t make him come across as the stalker he was behaving like. “You forgot something at Cha Chas and I was trying to catch up so I could give it to you.”

Her screeching came to an abrupt halt. He let go of her shoulders altogether so she could turn around and face him.

Fuck! The woman was too beautiful, too sexy. His damn dick started stiffening again, which was the last thing he needed to happen at this point. Mom naked…mom naked…mom naked…

“Are you okay?” the woman asked, sounding unsure of the situation. She spoke to him in a slow, loud, overly patient tone. The same tone people tended to use when speaking to foreigners. Or unstable nutjobs. “Do you need me to get you some help?”

Jake frowned. “Lady, I’m not a psychopath.”

“I’m sure you’re not.”

That same damn tone of voice. Jake sighed. “I know I was acting like one,” he muttered. “It’s just…” Tell the truth, but not the whole truth or you’ll appear even weirder than you already do. “I— It’s been a very long day already.”

She said nothing to that. Hopefully that was progress.

Fuck! He’d never felt so inept around a woman in his life. He tended to come across as arrogant and a little too sure of himself. But around her? He might as well be drooling in a cup or frothing at the mouth. One more fuck-up and he’d be wearing the “village idiot” sign around his neck.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Jake said sincerely. “I could tell I frightened you back at the bistro and I just wanted to apologize.”

Her expression was still wary, but softening. Her shoulders even looked like they were unclenching a bit.

“I was…uh…I was in a lot of physical pain.” That’s true at least. “And I think that physical pain got lost in translation,” he admitted. He ran a hand over his jaw. “When I saw your expression, I realized I probably looked crazy.”

She chuckled softly. Definite progress. He tried to grin back, but Jake had never been much of a smiler. Hopefully that wouldn’t count against him and his half-grin would suffice.

“Well, a little crazy,” she confessed. Those sexy dimples popped out again. “At first I thought you were…you know…special.”

“Special?”

“Like Rainman.”

“Shit.”

She laughed. Jesus, she had the best laugh.

“And then when you started mumbling to yourself, I admit I thought that you might be…uh…”

“Eleven eggs short of a dozen?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, her green eyes amused. “Something like that.”

He found the situation amusing too, but he still didn’t want her to think of him like that. It wasn’t the world’s best position for asking a lady out. “I’m Jake,” he said. He gave her a sheepish look. “AKA ‘Simple Simon’.”

She laughed again, a warm, welcoming sound that made her seem impossibly more beautiful to him than she already did. Now if he could manage not to fuck things up again they might make progress of the dating kind.

“I’m Robyn,” she said, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but, uh…”

Jake’s eyes darted down to the bag and two boxes in her hands. “Let me help you with that,” he offered. “I mean—if you’re okay with that.”

She started to say something—but just then a big Italian dude came flying out the door of the building Robyn had tried to get into before Jake had stopped her. The guy had a baseball bat in his hand and a lot of attitude written across his face.

This had to be Nicky. Jake’s jaw tightened. Definitely not a woman.

“Yo! Who the fuck are you? Why the fuck are you messing with my little sis—”

Robyn was his sister. Just his sister!

“Yo, Jake Chamberlin! Pisan!” The baseball bat was quickly tossed aside. Nicky pounded Jake on the back, smiling from ear to ear. Jake shook his hand and nodded back.

Robyn’s eyes widened. “You know him, Nicky?”

“What? You don’t?” Nicky sighed like a martyr. He looked at Jake. “My sister…she don’t watch sports, bro.”

Jake had figured that out long ago. Most women would have been thrilled to find themselves sitting next to Jake Chamberlin back at the bistro. Robyn had been anything but thrilled. Not only had she failed to recognize him, she’d thought he was batshit crazy.

“Yeah,” Jake muttered. “I had that feeling.”

“Robyn, this is Jake-fuckin-Chamberlin!” Nicky went on. “The quarterback of the New York Bloods!”

“Former quarterback,” Jake cut in. “I retired after the Super Bowl.”

“The Super Bowl winner! And hometown hero, pisan.”

Once upon a time Jake had enjoyed his status as a sports icon. In this moment, he found himself wishing Nicky hadn’t enlightened her. He wanted Robyn to get to know him—the real him—not the guy who’d taken the New York Bloods to Super Bowl victory.

“Nicky, here,” Robyn said, loading him down with everything in her hands. “Would you put these in my apartment for me? Your cannoli is in one of the boxes and make sure you leave me one of the coffees.”

“But—”

“Dominic—please…?”

He sighed. “All right.” He nodded at Jake. “Good to meet you, bro. Congrats on the ring.”

“Thank you,” Jake said. He gave Nicky a firm pat on the back. “Good to meet you too.”

Robyn watched her brother disappear into the building before turning to face Jake. “I’m sorry about my brother. He lives and breathes sports.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I’ve never seen him make all over another man like that. It was creeping me out, to tell you the truth.”

Jake chuckled. Jesus, the woman could even make him laugh. “I’m used to it. No biggie.”

A thoughtful look crossed Robyn’s face, as if she were trying to figure out a puzzle. “You looked familiar to me back at Cha Chas and I guess that’s why. I’ve probably seen you on TV or something before.” She shrugged. “Who knows. Anyway, a quarterback, huh? That means you play…uh…don’t tell me…give me a second… Baseball? No! Football! Football, right?”

Jake felt like a deer caught in headlights. He supposed he didn’t have to worry about her wanting to get to know the quarterback rather than the real him. She hadn’t even guessed the right sport the first time. He didn’t know whether to be offended, humored or relieved. He chose the latter two.

“Football,” Jake murmured.

She nodded. “It’s good you retired. Too violent in my opinion.”

“You’re telling me. I sustained three knee injuries during my career.”

Her expression softened. “That explains the pain you were in.”

“Huh?”

“The pain you were in at Cha Chas.”

“Yeahhh,” Jake drawled, thinking quickly. “It was my knee.” My wie-knee but never mind. “Very painful.”

“I’m sorry.” Her smile was sympathetic. “Look,” Robyn said, “I think I’ve taken up enough of your time. It was very sweet of you to come explain yourself. But I’m sure you have other things to do and I need to get to work.”

I just want to be near you. “Yeah, sorry if I made you late to work.”

She waved that away. “I work from home so it’s no inconvenience.” She smiled, the twinkle back in her gorgeous eyes. She held out her hand to shake his. “It was nice to meet you, Jake Chamberlin. I’m Robyn DiMarco. The guy with the baseball bat was my brother, Dominic DiMarco. We call him Nicky.”

So she wasn’t married. And if she had been in the past, she now loathed the guy enough to ditch his last name and take back her original one. Good.

“Robyn DiMarco. A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.” Jake took her hand, but rather than shake it, he held it to his lips for a soft kiss. “The pleasure is all mine.”

She visibly gulped. Was that good or was that bad?

“Yes, well…” She blinked and shook her head a little. “If you’re ever in our neighborhood again…” She grinned, regaining her composure. “I won’t run from you screaming next time.”

Jake smiled. Well, a three-quarter smile. It was a first for him, but then he could barely remember his own name around this woman. “Sounds good.”

Robyn started to walk away. He wanted to go with her in the worst way, but he knew it would be too much too soon.

“Oh!” Robyn said, spinning around to face him. “You said I forgot something at Cha Chas?”

“Yeah, you did,” Jake murmured.

“What was it?”

“My number.”

Chapter Three

They met for coffee at Cha Chas three days later. Robyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much and so hard. Jake wasn’t prone toward smiling and probably came off as overly serious to most people, but she’d quickly figured him out. He was amusing as hell once you understood his dry wit and facial expressions. His lips didn’t curve up very much, but his dark eyes lit up and danced in a playful manner quite frequently.

“I thought you were Italian when we first met,” Robyn admitted. “You definitely look it. But your last name is Chamberlin…what is your heritage?”

“Trailer park.”

Robyn grinned. “I’m serious.”

“Unfortunately so am I,” Jake returned. He shrugged. “I have no idea where my people came from. I got my mom and that’s it. My dad left when I was a kid.”

“No brothers or sisters?”

“Nope.”

“Cousins?”

“Not that I know of.”

Robyn’s heart wrenched for him. She couldn’t imagine growing up like that. She had been surrounded by people who loved her. She only had one sibling, true, but her family as a whole was huge. “I’m sorry.”

As to Jake’s heritage, she’d never before met somebody who didn’t know where they came from, but then, she had lived her entire life on Mulberry Street. In Little Italy, you grew up not only knowing you were Italian, but you also knew the exact village your people heralded from. And every last one of her friends and acquaintances still had relatives back in those villages in the Old Country.

“No need to be sorry. My mom and I are real close. I’m just glad I was able to get her out of that trailer park and into a nice apartment near me.”

Robyn smiled. His family consisted of only two, but he was loyal to it. A good sign, to her way of thinking.

“So you’re divorced,” Jake said, switching topics. “How long?”

“A long time,” Robyn answered. She blew out a breath as she tried to remember. “At least ten years.”

“Can I ask what went wrong?”

“We didn’t see eye to eye.” Robyn shrugged. “Paulie—that was his name—he thought it was okay to get jealous of other men and beat me up for it. I disagreed.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll kill him.”

Something in that simple, protective statement made her heart flutter in a way it never had before. She had quickly surmised that Jake was the jealous type—he’d already stared down three men just for looking at her—but he’d never hurt her. Robyn knew the difference. Jake was territorial and protective, just like Nicky, but he wasn’t abusive.

“Too late. Someone else already did,” Robyn admitted.

Jake’s eyebrows shot up.

“Let’s just say there were a lot of people around here who didn’t like him. But no, my family had nothing to do with it. Not that Nicky didn’t do a little damage. But my brother’s baseball bat was the least of Paulie’s problems.”

Jake inclined his head. “Got you.”

The conversation turned to various topics, some serious, some humorous. The more time Robyn spent with Jake, the more she didn’t want their afternoon together to end. She didn’t know where this was going, if anywhere, but she certainly was enjoying the journey toward figuring it out.

Jake Chamberlin. Broodingly handsome, powerfully built and filled with surprises. Just when she discovered a new layer to his personality, he surprised her with yet another one.

Robyn inwardly sighed. If she didn’t watch herself, she could easily fall for this man.

Jake had never felt so comfortable with a woman in his life. He still got a painful hard-on every time Robyn smiled, or bent over, or breathed for that matter, but he also genuinely enjoyed her company. He actually liked talking to her. Talking! Conversation had never been his strong suit, especially with women, but it seemed to come naturally with her.

And he was starting to pick up on something else too. Judging by the way other men kept staring at Robyn, he realized he wasn’t the only man who preferred a fleshy body to skin stretched over bones. He just wished they’d stare at any woman but her. Still, all the local men who walked into Cha Chas with women on their arms seemed to share his preference for females who were ripe all over.

Maybe his fetish wasn’t a fetish after all. Maybe he was actually normal. Hell, he’d only ever lived in society’s two extremes—trailer park and ridiculous wealth. Both of those extremes held up emaciated women as the end-all, be-all of beauty—and both were Whitey McWhite town.

After thirty-seven years, Jake was finally starting to understand what “it’s a cultural thing” meant. And he finally felt as if he’d found the culture he belonged in. He was an Italian trapped in Trailer Park Bob’s life.

It was time to sell the hunting rifle and trailer hitch; at long last, Jake had found his way home.

Robyn looked at herself from all angles in the full-length mirror. She smoothed out her dress and then played with her hair. Should she wear it up or down? She frowned, trying to decide what would look best with her little red dress and matching heels. In the end, she opted to loosely pin her hair up and let a few tendrils of curls fall to frame her face.

She smiled into the mirror. She looked pretty good, if she did say so herself.

“He’s gonna love you, sis. You look gorgeous.”

Wide-eyed, Robyn whirled around. “Nicky! I didn’t hear you come in.” She affectionately bopped him on the head. “You scared the piss out of me.”

“I don’t see nothing runnin’ down your legs.”

She frowned. “That’s gross.”

He grinned. “Grossing you out is my brotherly duty.”

“Pfft! Not tonight. My nerves are already on edge.”

Her brother’s expression grew serious. His conversation flipped into Italian. “What’s going on? You change your mind about Jake? I can make up an excuse for you if you want me to.”

She waved that away. “No, no, I haven’t changed my mind about him. It’s…you know…our family.” She sighed. “They can be so embarrassing.”

Nicky chuckled, his speech reverting back to English. “Yeah but they are our family. Better to rip that Band-Aid off now on your first date and get it over with.”

“Second date. We met for coffee at Cha Chas already.”

“Oh yeah. How’d that go?”

She sighed, recalling it as if it were yesterday. Then again, it had been yesterday. “Wonderful,” she breathed out, probably sounding too nostalgic. “We talked for hours. I’ve never had that instant connection with anyone before, not even with Paulie. It’s a little scary,” Robyn admitted.

“I’d say that’s a good thing, seeing as how Paulie turned out to be a piece of shit.”

Robyn snorted at that as she took a seat on the edge of her bed. “You got me there. Still,” she sighed, “Jake will probably run for the hills after he meets the family, Nicky.” She grinned. “I know I would.”

Nicky winked. “I don’t know. Uncle Vito can be pretty funny.”

Robyn snorted at that. “If you call making farting sounds under your armpit after you’ve had one too many bottles of Chianti ‘funny’, then yeah, he’s a real riot.”

Robyn buried her face in her hands while Uncle Vito farted out the national anthem under his armpit. She should have known better than to let Jake meet her family this soon. Armpit farting aside, a man accustomed to a family of two probably found their sheer numbers overwhelming.

Every time the DiMarcos had a family get-together, they locked down their entire building on Mulberry Street, left the doors to everybody’s apartments wide open and made their way from one family member’s place to the next, eating, drinking, laughing and dancing. Ordinarily Robyn lived for these nights, but then, ordinarily she wasn’t hoping to impress a non-Italian man who didn’t have his own version of Uncle Vito back at home.

“Eat something, Robby,” her mother chided. “Your Jake is enjoying himself. Don’t worry so much.”

“Maaaa,” Robyn whined, raising her head. “Can you please ask your brother to behave?”

“Bah!” Maria DiMarco waved that away. “Vito is harmless. Besides, he’s like a Band-Aid. Better to rip it off now than—”

“Nicky already gave me the Band-Aid speech.”

“There you go. Besides, it looks like your Jake is laughing.”

Her Jake. She wanted him to be her Jake. She just hoped tonight didn’t irreparably damage her chances.

Robyn sighed and decided to make the best of the situation. She was hungry and there was no turning back now. Besides, she thought, bemused as her gaze zeroed in on Jake, he really was laughing. She shook her head. The appreciation of rude noises was apparently a source of male amusement regardless of their roots.

“Your father is really taking to him,” Maria whispered. “I was a little worried he wouldn’t when you told us he wasn’t Italian.”

“So was I,” Robyn confided. “I guess being the former quarterback of Pop’s precious Bloods was close enough to Italian for him.”

Maria chuckled. “It would seem so.” She affectionately grabbed Robyn’s chin, forcing her to look up. “Come, baby. Enjoy yourself! I made all your favorite foods and I’d like to see you eat them.”

Robyn smiled. “I love you, Ma.”

“I love you too, bambina. Now have some fun!”

Robyn nodded. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and decided to behave like her usual, gregarious self. Jake would either love it or hate it. She decided it would be his loss if he hated it.

Jake watched, mesmerized, as Robyn danced to traditional Italian music with her father and cousins. Nicky had explained that the dance was called Tarantellaÿ Napoletana and that it originated in Naples, the birthplace of the DiMarco family. It was beautiful—she was beautiful, and breathtaking.

He had fallen in lust at first sight with Robyn. He hadn’t expected something deeper to come from carnal attraction, but he’d be a damn liar if he said his thoughts hadn’t already strayed that way a time or ten. He loved everything about her. Her smile, her laughter, her conversation and her family. And then there was the small matter of her not exactly small body…

Fuck! There goes my dick again.

“My sister has always been a good dancer,” Nicky said with pride.

Jake shifted in his seat. He’d been so lost in thoughts of Robyn that he’d forgotten her brother was seated right next to him. “Yeah,” he hoarsely agreed. “She’s amazing.”

Jake cleared his throat and looked away from Robyn. He was pretty sure a change in scenery was the only thing that would help his dick go down. “Something ironic,” Jake said, glancing at Nicky. “She has the same name as my favorite suspense writer.”

Nicky grinned. “You want to know something more ironic?”

“What’s that?”

“My sister is your favorite suspense writer.”

It took a lot to startle Jake. Dominic DiMarco had managed to do just that. “Robyn is…she’s that Robyn?!”

“The one and only.”

“I thought those books were written by a dude!”

Nicky shrugged. “She never lets her picture get put on the jacket covers. Sexism, she says.”

“Sexism?”

“She told me female suspense writers aren’t backed by their publishers as seriously as male ones, so if they don’t have ambiguous names they usually take male pseudonyms. Robyn happened to have a name that could go either way.”

“Why don’t they back them?”

“Don’t know. Maybe they think suspense fans won’t read a woman’s work. Kinda like how romance fans probably won’t read a novel written by Bob Jones.”

“But she’s famous enough now that it wouldn’t matter.”

Nicky winked. “True. Robby doesn’t try to conceal it so much these days, but she does like her anonymity.”

Jake understood that particular desire all too well. Now that he was retired he wanted to fall off society’s radar and lead a normal life. Get married, have kids—that kind of stuff. He hoped the transition from football hero to average Joe wouldn’t be long in coming. It wasn’t like he was a movie star or rock singer.

Nicky continued talking, but his voice was drowned out by the music and Jake’s thoughts. Now Jake understood why Robyn had been inordinately fascinated yesterday by what he’d had to say about his favorite writer’s books—they were her books! He should have been angry that she’d semi-deceived him, but he wasn’t. She’d wanted him to like the real her, not the writer her. The same as he’d wanted Robyn to like the real him.

Jesus. In her own right, the woman was as famous as Jake. Had he thought being a quarterback would impress her? It hadn’t. She undoubtedly knew some of the same people he knew…she’d just chosen not to join their superficial circles. And now that Jake had gotten a taste of her world, he didn’t blame her.

Hell, he envied her.

Chapter Four

The last month had been pure bliss for Robyn. She and Jake had been all but inseparable. When she wasn’t working and he didn’t have to put in an appearance at some event he was still bound by contract to attend, they’d been together. In another month he wouldn’t have any contractual obligations remaining, and he’d already told her that he hoped that meant they’d be spending even more time enjoying each other’s company.

Robyn smiled to herself. She had always been the type who enjoyed dating, but she’d never wanted a guy around all the time. Jake, it seemed, was changing her mind.

But there was one rather serious problem…

Robyn blew out a breath as she stood on the balcony of Jake’s apartment. Inside, Jake was throwing a very belated Super Bowl party for his teammates and their significant others. Robyn was enjoying herself for the most part, but she didn’t have very much in common with any of the other female guests. They were the type of Manhattanites she’d spent her entire life avoiding—superficial, pompous and consumed with self-importance.

She’d always found “the trendies”, as she liked to call them, something of a conundrum. They were all about appearing classy, yet oblivious to the fact that their lack of tact and inclusiveness actually made them classless.

Besides, she had been raised on Mulberry Street. In Little Italy, people stuck together whether rich or poor, famous or unknown. Everything was about “the family” and “the family” included the entire community. Her world was so different from the Upper East Side, where “the family” included Me, Myself and I.

A chilly evening wind swept the balcony, causing Robyn to shiver. She took a few steps back into an alcove to hide her bare arms and legs from the elements. She knew she couldn’t stay out here much longer without appearing rude, but she’d really needed the mental break the solitude of the balcony provided. Just a few more preciously wanted alone minutes and she’d rejoin Jake inside.

The doors to the balcony swung open, catching Robyn off guard. She instinctively took a big step backward, farther into the alcove.

A gaggle of blonde women—fashion models, if she remembered correctly—walked out onto the balcony with champagne flutes in their hands. They were quickly joined by four men who still played for the Bloods. Robyn wondered if she should clear her throat so they’d know she was out here too, but the next words she heard caused her to decide against that.

“What the hell is Jake doing with that cow?” one of the blondes asked.

Another blonde giggled. “He’s parading her around like he actually thinks she’s pretty! Did he lose a bet?”

“Oh come on,” a burly redheaded guy said, “she’s the ultimate catch.”

“The ultimate catch?” the first blonde repeated. Her tone was pompously amused. “How so?”

“She’s the ultimate catch if you’re a fisherman,” the redhead explained. He grinned. “The bigger the catch, the bigger the trophy!”

Laughter broke out on the balcony. Robyn’s eyes widened and her shoulders tensed.

“Jake caught himself a whale! Would that be first prize for a Podunk fisherman?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hey now,” an African-American man cut in. “This ain’t cool.” He shook his head as if disgusted, immediately endearing himself to Robyn. “Y’all can think what you want, but it don’t mean you got the right to say it. And I happen to think his girl is damn hot!”

A single tear tracked down Robyn’s cheek. She was grateful to Jake’s friend for defending her to the others, especially since the feisty Robyn she’d been all her life was reacting more like a frozen statue than an angry she-warrior. But then, she had never thought of herself as fat before—their entire conversation had thrown her off-kilter. Where she came from, she’d always been considered attractive and desirable, yet everyone here except Tyrone apparently saw her as quite the opposite.

“Tyrone, please,” one of the models returned. “That’s a nice speech, but Jake is embarrassing himself by being seen with that cow. Besides,” she pointed out by waving a hand, “I don’t see you escorting Moby Dick to any Bloods parties.”

“You don’t see me escorting nobody to a Bloods party because girls from Harlem got no interest in being around mean, skinny bitches like y’all.” His ebony face crinkled in disgust. “Go inside and eat something you’ll puke up later. Roger, Tony, Jeff—get these bitches out of my fuckin’ sight.”

“Calm down, bro,” the redhead said, holding up his hands. “You don’t need to be rude to—”

“Apparently I do. Get the fuck out of my sight!”

The blondes stared open-mouthed at Tyrone even as the other three football players whisked them off the balcony and closed the door behind them. Robyn stood there in the shadows shivering. She felt frozen, unable to move. The only warmth she could feel was around her eyes, where tears she refused to let spill battled to get out.

Please don’t see me, Tyrone. Thank you for your kindness, but please don’t see me like this.

Too late. Robyn knew she’d been spotted the second Tyrone glanced toward the alcove. His eyes widened in recognition. And still she couldn’t move.

“Robyn,” Tyrone said quietly, walking toward her, “I’m sorry you heard all that.” He stopped in front of her and placed his hands on her shivering shoulders. She found herself grateful for the much-needed warmth and gentle human contact. His kindness caused another one of those damn tears to trickle down. “They just a bunch of stank-ass, meth-addict bitches.” He raised one giant hand to her face and softly swiped at the rogue tear. “And they jealous because you, girl, managed to get Jake while all them done tried and failed.”

Robyn found her first smile. It was small, but it was still a smile.

“They think I’m fat and ugly,” Robyn quietly stated. “I’ve never heard anybody talk about me so meanly before.”

“That’s because it ain’t true!” Tyrone vehemently assured her. “Girl, I got wood the second I saw you.” He flashed a grin that showed off perfect teeth. “Don’t be tellin’ Jake that though.”

She searched his handsome face. He was truly a gracious, big-hearted gentleman. “Thank you. For everything.”

He nodded in understanding. “Anything else I can do to help?”

Robyn pondered that question for a moment. “Actually there is.”

“What’s that?”

“Can you get me out of here unseen by anyone?” she whispered. “Even Jake?” She shook her head faintly. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

Tyrone slowly nodded. “Done.”

Chapter Five

Robyn should have taken a cab back to Mulberry Street, but that would have involved talking to the driver, however briefly, and she wasn’t ready to speak to anyone. Lost in thought, she opted to walk instead.

The rain started hammering down not even ten minutes into her journey home and continued all the way into the streets of Little Italy. She was drenched from head to toe, but couldn’t find the energy to care. All she could think about was what she’d heard on the balcony.

Jake is embarrassing himself by being seen with that cow…

Was he embarrassing himself? They lived in two totally separate worlds and apparently in his world, beauty was much different than it was in hers.

In Robyn’s experience, outward beauty required fleshy thighs, heavy breasts, wide hips and a noticeable tummy. To the men on Mulberry Street, this was the embodiment of desirability and equated to fertility and healthiness in their minds.

And true beauty…well, that was something intangible, something that radiated outward from within. Beauty was in the vivaciousness in which you danced, the love of life that radiated across your face when you broke bread with the family, the joyous way you made others feel about themselves.

Skinny or thick, true beauty had no look to it.

By the time Robyn dragged herself up to her apartment, she was cold, soaked and shivering.

Her family was waiting for her in Nicky’s apartment across the hall, as if they knew what had happened tonight. As they sprang in near unison out of Nicky’s front door, she could see the concern written all over their faces.

As it turned out, they did know. At least a little of the story.

“Jake is looking all over for you!” Robyn’s mother chastised. “He’s worried sick and so were we!”

“What happened, sis?” Nicky asked, throwing a towel around her. “Why did you leave without telling Jake?”

Robyn still couldn’t find the energy to speak. At least not about that. “I need a hot bath,” she said unblinkingly, her voice scratchy. “I’m so tired and cold.”

“Of course, bambina,” her father, Louie, said soothingly, wrapping his arms around her. Robyn breathed in the familiar, safe scent of him. “Nicky, go run the water for your sister.”

“Sure, Pops.”

Her father was quiet for a long moment, and then, “I understand now is not the time to talk, but you’ll tell me and Mama what happened tomorrow, sì?”

“Sì,” she whispered.

“I need to know only one thing tonight.”

“Che cosa?” What?

“Did this Jake hurt you in any way, physically or otherwise?”

“No, Pop. Jake would never do that. I promise.”

Louie nodded, satisfied. “Your mother left babbà in your fridge and a big pot of soup on your stove. She just took it over so it should still be piping hot.” He kissed Robyn’s head. “Go take a hot bath and eat some hot soup, bambina. I love you and we’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

She didn’t want to move. She felt warm and safe for the first time in hours. “Sì, Papa. I love you too.”

Jake felt sick to his stomach. He’d looked everywhere for Robyn and couldn’t find her. He’d checked every shop and bistro in Little Italy, gone to her apartment twice, scoped out her favorite bookstores and hangouts, and searched everywhere he could think to look. It was as if she’d vanished into thin air.

The moment Tyrone had called him aside and told him what had happened, Jake had furiously thrown everyone but his buddy out of his apartment. He’d asked Tyrone to repeat the story again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

“She was crying when you found her?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, man,” Tyrone confirmed. “I ain’t exactly known for having much of a heart, but whatever piece I got left broke for that girl.”

Just as Jake’s was breaking now. He had assumed Robyn would head straight home, but she hadn’t. If anything bad happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

Goddamn it! He should have known better than to bring a wonderful lady like Robyn into a den of vicious she-wolves. And all for some dumbass party he should have thrown months ago to get it over with.

Still scouring the streets, Jake felt his cell phone vibrate in his jeans pocket. He stopped dead in his tracks and fished it out, praying it was Robyn.

No. But it was from Nicky. A text message.

Robby’s home safe and sound but she won’t talk to nobody. She took a bath, our Ma fed her some soup and put her to bed. Thought you’d wanna know. Nicky

Jake sighed as relief flooded through him. He typed back a reply as fast as his big fingers would let him.

Thank God. Be there in 10. Let me in. Jake

She wasn’t talking, but she was safe. That was a start. “Taxi!”

Chapter Six

Unable to sleep, Robyn pulled on her favorite warm and fuzzy red bathrobe with matching slippers and padded into the kitchen. There was a bottle of Chianti that Uncle Vito had somehow missed and she was pretty sure that bottle had her name written all over it. As she unscrewed the cork, a devastating reality hit her in the chest harder than a wall of bricks.

Life with Jake could never work out.

For all they shared in common, the worlds they inhabited were far too different to reconcile. Now that Robyn understood the rules in his realm, she knew she couldn’t be a part of it. With the exception of Tyrone, she’d feel constantly under scrutiny by the others…and always coming up short. That was no way for a woman to live. It would suck the life and self-esteem right out of her.

She plopped down at the kitchen table and drank a swig of Chianti straight from the bottle.

For the past month there had been one burning question in the back of her mind and now the answer smacked her in the face. Why, Robyn had wondered a dozen times, had Jake never tried to make love to her? She grimaced, mortified by the idea that while he enjoyed her company, her body might be repulsive to him.

She closed her eyes and sighed. Tonight she would allow herself to feel like a broken-down Humpty Dumpty, but tomorrow she would put herself back together again. She didn’t need all the king’s horses and all the king’s men for that—Robyn DiMarco was a strong, proud, beautiful, Italian-American woman who could handle the job all by herself.

Robyn raised the bottle of Chianti back to her lips. A knock on her front door startled her, almost making her chip a tooth. She cursed under her breath as she placed the bottle on the table and stood.

Her family was aware she wanted this night alone and for all they knew, she was already sound asleep. She should have been aggravated, but Robyn realized they were simply worried about her. Resigned to the inevitable “talk”, she decided now was as good a time as any to get it over with.

“Ma,” Robyn said, opening her front door, “you and Pop can come on in and—”

Robyn stilled. Her pulse skyrocketed. She hadn’t expected to see him. Not this soon, anyway. He hadn’t even buzzed her intercom to ask to be let into the building. How had he gotten inside?

“Jake,” Robyn breathed out, her gaze raking over him. He was even more soaking wet than she’d been when she’d first arrived home, which was saying a lot. “What are you doing here?”

Jake drank in the sight of her, a dozen different emotions waging war inside him. She looked so fucking cute in her fuzzy red bathrobe and slippers—they matched the color of the polish on her finger- and toenails—but now wasn’t the time for that.

“Don’t ever leave me like that again,” Jake said hoarsely, stepping in uninvited and closing the door behind him. He locked it just to make certain they weren’t interrupted. “I was worried sick! Do you have any idea what you put me through? Or your family, for that matter?”

Her lips worked up and down, but no words came out. She took a giant step backward, away from him.

“Tyrone told me everything,” Jake continued. “I am sorrier than words can say that what happened to you actually happened, but you scared the shit out of me! Don’t ever do—”

“Jake,” Robyn softly interrupted. She held up a palm. “This isn’t going to work out.”

Jake stilled. His dark eyes widened. Her words shook him to the core.

Jesus, don’t leave me now. It took me my entire life to find you.

“I don’t accept that,” Jake ground out. “How can you just give up on us that easily?” He raised a fist and pounded it into his other palm. “I won’t fucking let you!”

Her green eyes, usually so sparkly, looked dim. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “but your world is too different from mine.”

“That’s not my world, and it never was. I might have tried to convince myself otherwise for several years, but it never felt right. You feel right. We feel right. For fuck’s sake, Mulberry Street feels right!”

Robyn bit down on her lower lip. He didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

“I love you,” Jake said wearily. “I’m in love with you. I want to marry you and get you pregnant like yesterday. I won’t let you walk away, baby.” His voice sounded hoarse even to him. “I need you too fucking much.”

Robyn’s beautiful eyes teared up. He really wished he was better at reading women because, again, he didn’t know if that was a good sign or a death sentence. Either way, he didn’t like her crying. It tore at his heart.

“Why, then, have you never tried to make love to me?” Robyn quietly asked.

“I didn’t want to scare you off! I was waiting and praying like hell you’d make the first—”

Jake’s eyes narrowed in dawning comprehension. “Is that what this is about? You think I’m not physically attracted to you?”

She nodded.

Jake shook his head to clear it. He ran a hand through his dark hair that Robyn hadn’t wanted him to cut off.

“You want the truth?” Jake murmured. “The whole truth?”

Robyn’s entire body seemed to tense. “Nothing but.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” Jake’s eyes narrowed further. “The truth is that the moment I saw you, my dick got so hard it was painful. That was the pain that got lost in translation, not my damn knee.”

Robyn’s eyes widened.

“The truth is I was muttering to myself in the bistro that day because I was trying to talk my erection down so I could approach you and ask you out.”

Could her eyes get any wider? Jake took a step toward her.

“The truth is I have had to masturbate three times a day—every fucking day—since the moment I laid eyes on you to keep from throwing myself on top of you like a damn animal.”

She visibly gulped. He took another step toward her, completely closing the distance between them.

“The truth is…you are the sexiest woman I have ever seen in my entire goddamn life, and there’s not a supermodel alive who can hold a fucking candle to you.”

Robyn searched his face, as if looking for clues that he was telling the truth.

“Take off my jeans, baby,” he murmured, “and you’ll see just how hot you make me.”

Silence ensued, a long pause that seemed to last a lifetime. And then, much to his surprise, Robyn backed up a step and started undoing the belt to her bathrobe.

Jake swallowed against the invisible knot in his throat. His cock was already painfully stiff and she hadn’t even removed her robe yet. Don’t change your mind, baby. Please don’t change your—

Her robe dropped to the floor. His pulse picked up and his dark eyes grew heavy-lidded. Jake slowly exhaled. He’d pictured Robyn naked a thousand times, but no fantasy could have prepared him for the real deal.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said thickly as his gaze traveled up and down the length of her naked body.

His cock was so hard and his mind so consumed with pure, unadulterated lust that he couldn’t be sure if he’d said those words aloud or just thought them. His narrowed gaze flicked to her full, heavy breasts, causing Jake’s throat to go dry. He didn’t find skin stretched over silicone any more desirable than skin stretched over bones. Robyn’s tits were large and flawlessly rounded, and very real. And her stiff, pink nipples…

Jake’s breathing grew heavier. He’d be sucking on those nipples for hours.

His intense gaze wandered lower, to her ample hips and softly rounded belly, before lowering farther to drink in the sight of her gorgeous cunt. The hair on her pussy was short and well-manicured, a tiny little patch of dark gold that told him she came by that honey-colored hair naturally.

He blew out a breath. Her ripe, fertile body was perfect. She was perfect, period. Robyn was everything he’d ever wanted, in bed or out of it.

“Let’s go to your bedroom, baby,” Jake said hoarsely.

He forced himself to blink as if awakening from a trance and quickly removed his rain-soaked clothes. He heard her breath catch as she stared at his erect cock, which damn near made him come. He had waited his entire life to be inside a woman this arousing and he couldn’t wait another second.

Jake’s mouth came down hard on Robyn’s, his big hands crudely groping all over her naked body like an eager virgin. He briefly worried he was being too rough, but that fear was hastily cast aside. Robyn wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with the same animalistic intensity. She moaned into his mouth as their tongues clashed and dueled, her fingers threading through his thick mane of dark hair.

Jake lifted Robyn into his arms, their kiss never breaking, and hurriedly carried her into the bedroom. He laid her on the bed as gently as his aroused state could manage, his body quickly and heavily covering hers.

“I need to be inside you,” Jake growled, tearing his mouth from Robyn’s. His breathing was heavy, his gaze unwavering as he waited for her permission. “Now.”

Robyn said nothing with her lips, but everything with her body. She spread her legs wide before rearing up a little to tease him with her pussy. The scent of her arousal perfumed the air, damn near forcing him to spill himself right then.

Jake hissed out a breath, his jaw clenching, as he grabbed his cock by the base. His gaze bored into Robyn’s as he guided himself to her wet, tight opening. “You’re mine now, baby,” Jake ground out, his tone possessive. “Don’t ever try to leave me again.”

Her lips parted as if to speak. Jake groaned as he surged inside her tight cunt, impaling her with one long, hard thrust.

She felt so fucking good—warm, tight and sticky.

Robyn moaned, whatever she had been about to say forgotten as he seated himself fully inside her. Jake’s breathing couldn’t have been heavier. He had wanted to be slow and gentle with Robyn for their first time together, but higher thinking eluded him.

“My pussy,” Jake told her through gritted teeth. Unfamiliar with displays of emotion, he couldn’t verbalize how deeply Robyn had scared him when she’d said things between them were over. His nostrils flared in remembered pain. “You understand me?”

Robyn’s eyes widened. He didn’t wait for a reply and didn’t want one because he was never letting her go. Jake pulled his cock halfway out and surged inside her again, earning him a gasp.

He wasted no time in fucking her hard, rooting in and out of her tiny cunt like an animal. They moaned as one, Robyn’s legs wrapped around his waist as he mercilessly impaled her.

“Jake,” she groaned, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Fuck me harder.”

The dirty words were like a drug that he craved to hear again and again. His jaw tensed as he gave her what she wanted, burying his stiff cock inside her tight, sticky pussy to the hilt. He drove into her harder, faster, showing no mercy. The sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin filled the bedroom. The combined scent of their arousal permeated the air, a heady aphrodisiac.

Jake could feel her pussy clenching, telling him she was close to coming. He picked up the pace, pistoning in and out of her like a man obsessed. He fucked her hard and ruthlessly, over and over, again and again and again.

“Jake,” she moaned as he fucked her. “Oh God—oh Jake!”

Robyn came loudly and violently, thrashing beneath him, her pussy muscles trying to milk his cock for cum. His teeth gritted and his jaw tightened further, as he continued to rut inside her like a feral animal.

She was his every fantasy come true, the woman he’d waited a lifetime to find and claim as his own. Knowing Robyn was underneath him, his cock branding her with every thrust, made him feel more primitive and possessive than he could have ever thought himself capable. He fucked her soaked cunt deeper and harder, his dominant strokes marking her as his. He wanted this moment to never end, but he couldn’t hold back a second longer.

“Here I come, baby,” Jake rasped, his stiff cock repeatedly plunging into her. He thrust into her pussy once, twice, three times more and—

“Oh shit, oh God—Robyn!”

His eyes squeezed closed and his body jerked on top of hers as he came, his hot cum spurting into her cunt in the longest, most brutal orgasm of his life. She threw her hips at him as he continued to fuck her, her pussy draining his cock of all it had to give. Jake groaned, the sensation unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

Their bodies gradually began to relax, his thrusts becoming slower and gentler, until their movements came to a satisfied end. A peaceful fatigue enveloped Jake as he rolled onto his back, forcing Robyn to his side. They laid there in silence, their breathing steadying, as Jake fought the urge to sleep. It was a battle he knew he was losing.

Not willing to take any chances that she might try to leave him as he slept, Jake wrapped Robyn securely in his arms. Satisfied that she wasn’t going anywhere, he closed his eyes and succumbed to sleep.

Chapter Seven

Robyn had never, not ever, felt more beautiful, sexually alive and loved than she had these past three days. Unable to keep their hands off each other, she and Jake hadn’t left the bed other than to groom themselves or eat with her family. She had a manuscript due soon so she realized they couldn’t carry on forever like this, but she intended to enjoy every moment until work forced her from the bed.

Robyn sucked in her breath as Jake kissed all over her body. He couldn’t seem to get enough of sucking on her nipples and pussy, a fact that was headier than she didn’t know what. Right now his warm mouth was latched on to one of her stiff nipples, sucking it as if he never wanted to stop. He reminded her of a kid in a candy store. Her nipples, of course, were his candy.

“Jake,” she whispered, her head falling back against the pillows, “that feels so good.”

He sucked on her nipple a while longer, then released it with a popping sound. He trailed slow, sexy kisses down her belly, then lower still, until his face was buried between her legs.

“I can make you feel better, baby,” Jake murmured. His tongue darted out and swiped her pussy from slit to clit. She sucked in a breath. “A lot better.”

As usual, he didn’t disappoint. Robyn moaned as his tongue snaked around her clit, drawing it into the heat of his mouth. He flicked his tongue all over it in rapid succession, dragging a groan out of her.

“Jake,” she gasped, “stop teasing me.” He was making her delirious—giving her enough to become painfully aroused, but not enough to find release.

He flicked harder at her clit. “Tell me what you want, baby.” And a little bit faster. “Tell me.”

“Suck it,” she throatily begged. “Please.”

He continued flicking at her clit, toying with her.

She began having delirious thoughts that revolved around somehow forcing him to suck, but her mind was nearly mush and she couldn’t form any coherent words let alone plans of action. Just when Robyn decided she couldn’t take the torture anymore, Jake finally, thankfully, went in for the kill.

Robyn’s hips involuntarily bucked up as he drew her clit determinedly into his mouth. He sucked on her firmly, exactly the way he knew she loved, extracting moan after euphoric moan from her.

“Just like that,” she panted, wrapping her legs around his neck. He sucked on her harder, making little “mmm” sounds that drove her wild. “Oh yes—oh God yes.” Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillows. She used her legs to pull him tighter against her, grinding her pussy into his mouth. A growl erupted from his throat, the sound territorial and primal. She resisted coming, trying to stave off her orgasm even as the sensual knot in her belly tightened. His growl deepened, became more guttural, as if demanding she give him what he wanted.

She was coming and there was no stopping it. The tense coil in her belly exploded.

“Jaaaaake,” she moaned, her entire body convulsing as she popped. She came long and loudly. “Oh. My. God. Oh. My— Jaaaake!”

Blood rushed to Robyn’s face, heating it. Her nipples jutted up so stiffly they ached. Her clit was so sensitive she couldn’t stand it, yet he kept sucking as though he’d never let go. He forced a second, more powerful orgasm on her, causing her to all but rear off the bed as she screamed out his name. A feeling of immeasurable pleasure mingled with pain tore through her body, the sounds coming from her akin to those of a wounded animal.

“You’re killing me,” Robyn panted, half delirious. “Oh my God, Jake—”

And then he was fucking her, thrusting into her hard, forcing her sensitized body to come as many times as he wanted. He moaned as he rode her, his hips rocketing back and forth as he pummeled her drenched pussy with his cock. He had come not even thirty minutes ago so she knew this round would last a while. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she gluttonously reveled in every thrust he had to give.

Jake palmed her breasts, tweaking her nipples as he rode her. By the time they came together, both of them groaning in pleasure, Robyn was so tired that she knew sleep was inevitable.

He rolled off her, his breathing labored. She snuggled up against him, warm and safe in his arms, and fell into a happy slumber.

Robyn wasn’t certain how long they slept, but she awoke to find Jake staring down at her. She smiled softly up to him, more content than she had ever been in her life.

His gaze, usually gratified after they made love, looked troubled. Her smile slowly faded as worry set in. “Jake?” she whispered. “Is something wrong?”

He remained silent, causing Robyn’s alarm to grow. She tried to sit up, but he easily nudged her back down with his heavily muscled body. “Jake, talk to me. You’re freaking me out here.”

The silence continued for a long moment. She began feeling quite vulnerable, but refused to show it. And then finally, after what felt an eternity, the silence was broken with Jake’s sigh. She raised an eyebrow, asking him without words to confide in her.

You better not even think of leaving me, Jake Chamberlin. You did everything you could to make me fall for you! Now that you’ve got me, you damn sure better not—

“Are you still wanting to give up on us?” Jake asked, his voice flat. “Because I know I can’t force you to keep me around, no matter how much I wish otherwise.”

Robyn’s eyes slowly widened. He was still thinking about that even after she’d fully given herself to him these past three days? She blinked. Robyn DiMarco didn’t sleep with just anyone. She shook her head a little, deciding that his previous girlfriends must have been nothing like her.

“Do you know something, Jake?” Robyn asked.

He hesitated, as if uncertain he wanted to hear her answer. “What?”

“I’ve been on more dates than I can count. Men ask me out all the time—”

“I don’t think I want to hear this,” he angrily cut in.

“Yet I can easily count how many men I’ve allowed in my bed,” Robyn continued. She reached up and touched his jaw. “That’s an easy tabulation.” Her eyes sparkled. “You would be the second.”

Jake stilled, processing that. His gaze searched her face. “You mean you haven’t slept with anyone since your divorce?”

She shrugged. “My ex…that was a disaster, as you know. So I decided to wait until I fell in love with a man who I was one hundred and ten percent certain was nothing like him.”

A small, barely perceptible half-smile tugged at the corner of Jake’s mouth. “You saying you’re in love with me?” he murmured.

Robyn rolled her eyes good-naturedly and thumped him on his massive chest. “Yes, Simple Simon! That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she laughed. She searched his face, her expression growing serious. “But your world… I can’t thrive in a place like that.”

“That makes two of us,” he sighed.

Her heart soared with hope. “Can you really give that up?” Robyn squeaked. She cleared her throat. “Really?”

Jake smiled—a true, genuine, full-fledged smile.

“There’s nothing to give up, baby,” he admitted. “I would have walked away from that bullshit after my contract expired anyway.” He absently rubbed his jaw, the stubble there so sexy to her. “The only two people from that life I want to keep around are my mom and Tyrone—they never fit in any better than I did anyway.”

Robyn smiled. “I’m extremely fond of both of them.”

“They feel the same way about you.” Jake gave her an affectionate squeeze. “With or without you, I’m walking, baby girl,” he murmured. “I just hope it’s with your sexy ass.”

I am so in love with this man! “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” Robyn promised, her heart soaring somewhere far above cloud nine.

Jake smiled—again! “I think you got a thing for Rainmen,” he teased.

She grinned. “Nah. Only for my Rainman.”

Epilogue

Jake smiled as he watched his new bride dance the Tarantella Napoletana with Nicky and her father. He decided to let her enjoy it because it was the last time she’d be dancing for about seven months. They had found out only yesterday, the night before their wedding, that Robyn was pregnant. To say they were ecstatic would be the world’s greatest understatement.

He was going to be a father and he had just become a husband. Jake felt like the luckiest man alive. No Super Bowl ring came close to the ring he now wore on his finger. The world he’d gladly left behind was all smoke and mirrors, but Robyn was very real and now completely his.

His wife smiled at him as she danced. Fuck, but he had never thought he could be this happy! Even his mom seemed livelier yet more serene now that they’d officially moved out of the Upper East Side and into the Mulberry Street building. She lived in an apartment across from Robyn’s parents because, as Maria DiMarco said, “Eileen is one of us now.”

His gaze flicked over to the two mothers in question. They were embroiled in conversation as Maria herded his mom over toward a table of drinking DiMarco men. Jake couldn’t make out everything Maria was saying, but he heard the words “Uncle Vito” and “Band-Aid” as they passed by. He grinned.

To the rest of the world, Little Italy was famous for food, wine, festivals and, yeah, the mafia. To Jake Chamberlin, retired quarterback of the New York Bloods, Little Italy was where he’d finally found himself. It was the place where miracles like Robyn and their baby took place. It was…home.

And there was no place like it.