Unable to help himself any longer, he pulled her close for a kiss. He kept it brief, mindful of morning breath, then set her free and strode into the kitchen to make the coffee. He just barely kept himself from whistling.
Marley stared after him, then rushed to get dressed. She was in the bathroom with the door cracked open when he poked his head in and set her mug on the counter.
“Your sugar, ma’am.”
His exaggerated drawl made her smile again as she finished twisting her hair into the ponytail holder.
“Mind if I shower?” he asked.
“Bathroom’s all yours.” She picked up her mug to step into the hall. She paused as he closed the door, then instead of letting her imagination go crazy, decided it’d be smarter to make breakfast. The eggs sizzled in the frying pan when she heard an appreciative groan from the doorway.
“That smells good.” Justin stepped into the kitchen to fill his coffee cup. “I’m starving.”
Marley couldn’t help but stare. Straight out of the shower, hair toweled but not combed, with a five o’clock shadow prominent on his strong jaw, the rugged look was made for him. A few stray drops of moisture clung to his broad, bare chest, and the green towel that wrapped around his waist left a good portion of his muscled legs exposed.
Yeah, she could wake up to this man the rest of her life, no problem.
She leaned against the counter without bothering to hide her appreciation. “Breakfast is almost done.”
He glanced over, caught her look, and paused. Marley felt each individual beat of her heart even after he glanced at the clock above the sink. When he looked back, disappointment edged his expression.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said in a low tone, turning to leave.
Marley watched until he disappeared, his back as sexy as the front of him. Her pulse leapt as she considered following him to the bedroom. She’d actually turned off the stove and started in that direction when the phone rang.
She jumped about a foot, feeling like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. It was absurd, the caller had no idea of her intentions, but she still felt herself blush as she answered the phone by the third ring.
“Is Justin with you?” Jordan’s question came across none-too-friendly. “He’s not answering his cell.”
“He’s here. He’s just getting dressed.” She winced at the way that sounded. “Hold on.”
She started down the hall, her pulse still racing. Justin came out of Nate’s bedroom, dressed in his clothes of the night before, and met her halfway. His brows rose as she handed him the phone.
“It’s Jordan.”
“Thought you didn’t crow with the roosters?” Justin said into the phone as he followed Marley back to the kitchen. He took a seat at the square kitchen table with his coffee while she dished up their plates.
“What?”
Justin’s shocked exclamation drew her full attention.
“Tommy Berndt? Yeah, I worked with him and his brother back in college. Tommy quit the company right before I graduated.”
Marley set his food and a glass of orange juice in front of him, and then took a seat kitty-corner with her own plate. She didn’t feel bad about listening. If he didn’t want her to hear his conversation, he’d leave the room. It was her kitchen after all.
“This is unbelievable.” Anger resonated in Justin’s tone as he sat back in his chair to rake a hand through his combed hair. “Read it again…wait…once more. Let me see if I understand this…unless we agree to pay him ten thousand dollars, he’s going to go to the media and tell them that Granddad’s a murderer?”
Marley’s fork clattered to her plate, drawing a sharp glance from Justin.
“That’s bullshit. Besides, Granddad’s dead. It’s hearsay, an empty threat. Who’d he supposedly murder, anyway?”
Marley picked up her fork and set it next to her plate.
“Then we’ve got nothing to worry about. This guy’s got nothing, that’s why he doesn’t say who.” After a pause, his expression drew tighter. “I don’t give a damn about what it’ll look like to everyone else, Jordan…you’re right—I never have—and you want to know why? Because my name is Justin Blake. Not Karl Hunter, not Dale Blake, not Jordan Blake. If people can’t take me for who I am, then who the hell needs them?”
Marley almost wished she’d given him privacy. Almost. He shoved up from the table and paced to the kitchen window.
“The hell you will!” he growled into the phone. “No. Where would you even get the money? You told me the accounts are empty…no…no, Jordan—we will not pay that bastard blackmail money. If we pay once, all he’ll do is bleed us dry. Besides, paying just makes it look like this guy’s telling the truth and we’re trying to hide something. If the media gets wind of that, it’ll