“What?” Jacob asked.

“Nothing,” I choked out through giggles.

Jacob’s hand came to my chin and gently forced it up so he could catch my eyes.

His were smiling.

“What?” he repeated.

“I’m a slut,” I announced, still giggling but harder now. It was full-blown laughter. “In the blink of an eye I go from a felon to a mysterious crimefighter or whatever you are.” I started laughing so hard I hiccoughed and pushed out, “Trading up.”

My laughter only started to die down when I noticed Jacob’s eyes were no longer smiling.

“What?” I asked when I got control of my hilarity.

“Been cool about that Emme, but heads up, that cool ends now. I may have found you again when you were with him but I didn’t like him from the start. Ten minutes later I found out there was a lot not to like. And now the only good part about you bein’ with him is that you were smart enough not to get too deep and he’s gone. But I don’t find it funny.”

I sobered immediately and whispered, “Sorry.”

“And you’re not a slut,” he stated. “A woman who’s never had a man make her come, except one, the one she’s currently in bed with, is, by definition, not a slut.”

“Okay,” I agreed quickly, mostly because of the look on his face and his tone.

Normally, I would have begged to differ, seeing as I had a nonexclusive boyfriend I had yet to officially break up with and I was currently na**d in bed with Jacob which I thought, by definition, nonexclusive or not, was pretty slutty. But I was sensing (accurately) that now was not the time to debate that point.

Then again, the look on his face, it was more likely never would there be time to debate that point.

“We might have to talk about him seein’ as you’re a witness, him givin’ you that ring. So, they don’t confess, that shit goes to trial, this isn’t done for you. But, if we’re not talkin’ about the case—not him, the case—he doesn’t come up at all. You with me?”

I was with him. This annoyed him. So Jacob could be seriously bossy and bossily serious, the second one when discussing my criminal, very-soon-to-be official ex-boyfriend.

So I should likely avoid that.

“I can do that,” I told him.

“Good,” he muttered.

“You heat your pool,” I blurted to change the subject, and his brows drew together.

“What?”

“You say I heat my mountain. You heat yours too,” I informed him.

“Yeah. Difference is, I got the money to afford it.”

Him having his big mostly mansion that had nothing to fix and was all perfect, I figured he was not wrong.

“It’s environmentally unconscious,” I pointed out.

He stared at me then pressed his head back into the pillows and looked at the headboard, muttering, “Here we go.”

“It is,” I pushed.

He looked back at me. “Babe, I don’t give a f**k.”

“Well, I do. You should turn off the heat when you’re not using it.”

“I turn off the heat, I want to use it, it takes hours to heat it, by that time I’m over wantin’ to use it.”

“Then you should put a cover on it,” I went on.

“It doesn’t look as good with a cover on it,” he replied, and I felt my brows go up even as I pushed up and glared down at him.

“You’re destroying the environment for cosmetic purposes?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered indifferently.

“That’s irresponsible.”

“It’s my money.”

“You’re a citizen of this earth just like me, Jacob Decker. It isn’t about money. You’re accountable to future generations.”

He grinned. “That’s a lot of folks, Emmanuelle. I hope I die before they incarcerate me for my pool heating irresponsibility and I have to stand trial in front of an angry environmental mob.”

I hated it about as much as I loved it (the second part after it was over, of course), when Jacob started teasing when we were debating.

But while we were doing, it was all about hating it.

“Don’t be flippant,” I snapped.

“I’m not. I’m just waitin’ for you to want to use the pool and then you won’t be bitchin’ about it bein’ heated.”

“A cover is a good compromise,” I noted.

“Not if I don’t like the way it looks.”

I shut up and stared at him, knowing he was enjoying this. Therefore it could go on for hours as it had in the past, so I would get nowhere, which was where I got in the past.

Therefore, when I spoke again it was to say, “Let’s not argue.”

Suddenly, he rolled me so he was pressed into my side and also on me and his handsome, morning-stubbled face was close.

God, he was beautiful. His weight was heavy, his body strong, warm. And those eyelashes.

Amazing.

“No, baby,” he murmured, lips tipped up. “Let’s argue so we can make up.”

This gave an interesting slant to our sometimes-heated debates that I suddenly had a hankering to try out.

His body started shaking but before I could see his laughter on his face, his head dipped and he ran his lips up my jaw to my ear.

“I gotta get my girl in the shower so I can get her home and install her insulation.”

My breath was coming fast but I still managed to say, “Buford’s riding with me.”

His head came up. “You’re riding with me and Buford’s stayin’ here. He gets out there and catches a scent of something in those woods around your house, we won’t see him for a year.”

My head cocked on the pillow. “Really?”

“He’s a bloodhound, Emme. Yeah. Really.”

“So does that mean he can never come over?”

“No, that means he can’t come over when I’m installing insulation and can’t pay attention to what he’s doin’ when he’s out.”

“Oh.”

Jacob grinned. “Love it that you like my dog.”

I looked to the side and saw Buford’s paws stretched out on the floor by Jacob’s side of the bed, the rest of him I couldn’t see. He’d ceased his bed-hogging activities when Jacob woke me up to make love to me. Now he appeared to be taking a snooze.

I looked back at Jacob.

“He’s likable.”

He grinned, bent his head and kissed me. He didn’t do it long but it tasted and felt fantastic. Kind of like the first time (and all the times besides) except without me losing my mind and my control and having the best sex of my life (by far).

When he lifted his head, I asked, “Why am I riding with you?”

“ ’Cause you’re sleepin’ here tonight and since you are, no reason for us to take two vehicles.”

My heart tripped. He wanted me back. And soon. Which would mean more sex with Jacob. And soon. And just more time. And lots of it.

I liked that.

“I am?”

“Buford needs company and he can’t come over so you’re comin’ back.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Tomorrow night, after we go out on a proper date, we still end up pickin’ up my dog and goin’ to your place or not pickin’ him up and stayin’ at mine.”

A proper date. I liked that too. I hadn’t had many of those and none with Jacob.

And more time.

I liked that better.

And hopefully, since one or the other of us was spending the night, more sex.

“Okay,” I repeated.

He studied me before remarking, “You’re docile in the morning when you’re not talking about pools.”

He was wrong. Usually I was somewhat grouchy in the morning.

But I was docile in the morning when I had back-to-back orgasms I didn’t have to give myself. And, incidentally, I’d never had back-to-back orgasms at all and having had them, my guess would be they’d make anyone docile.

“Let’s not talk about pools,” I suggested and got another grin.

Then I got another kiss.

After that, I got pulled out of bed, across a room and into a shower.

* * *

Two hours later…

I was sitting in my family room surrounded by women with the addition of rollicking children.

This was because, up in my attic, nine men and one woman were laboring. Those men not Jacob were named Chace (I knew him at least), Max, Tate, Ty, Reece, Deke, Bubba and Wood. The woman there was named Twyla.

They were all brawny (Ty especially, that guy was huge; and, not in a mean way, but it must be said, Twyla was brawny too). They were all handsome (not as handsome as Jacob but they were definitely on the mouth-watering end of the good-looking spectrum, and even a masculine woman, Twyla, was not hard to look at either, if you didn’t count her lady mullet). And there were a lot of them, thus it was likely my insulation under the roof of a sprawling mansion would take about an hour to install.

The thing was, they brought their women with them.