Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,141

now, he kicked him in the back of the knee to get him down. The guy staggered, but kept his footing, and Harlan twisted his arm harder and wanted to break it. The red mist was rising, and he was …

Jennifer was there again, forcing her way between them, shouting, “Harlan! Don’t!”

He let go fast, stepped back, and grabbed her to shove her behind him, and the other guy staggered again and turned. Three women and a couple of teenagers had appeared on the driveway somewhere in there, too. The women were exclaiming, and one of the teenagers had her phone out.

Jennifer wasn’t getting out of the way. She said, “Mark! Stop it! You’re not the father!” She shouted it, actually. And now, she was shoving the guy—Mark—the ex—back.

Somebody said, “It’s just like Maury,” and both teenagers had their phones out now.

Mark said, “What the hell?”

Harlan said, “That’s right, asshole. I’m the father.”

Mark said, “You were screwing somebody else? This guy? So all that talk about me not wanting to marry you was just, what?” His eyes widened. “Oh. I get it. I get it. You get knocked up, and you think you’ll get me to marry you. Not this time, sister. No way. Just because you can’t keep your legs closed, that doesn’t mean I’m—”

Harlan was going for him, but Jennifer was already there, advancing on Mark like an avenging fury, shoving him in the chest with a hard palm, driving him back until he tripped over an end table and nearly fell. He came up spluttering, and she said, “Get out. You’ve got nothing to do with this. You’ve got nothing to do with me, because I dumped you and found a better man. You know why I’m moving? Because I’m going to live with him, that’s why! Because he asked me to. Me and Dyma. Because when he found out I was pregnant, he stepped up. He didn’t come ask me why I didn’t get an abortion and make his life easier! And I said yes. Know why? Do you?”

“Gee,” Mark said, “maybe because he’s worth about a hundred million bucks?” He looked at Harlan. “You’re taking the kid, too? Yeah, good luck with that. She’s a pain in the ass.”

“No,” Jennifer said. She was all but spitting now. “Because he’s ten times the man you are. He’s kinder. He’s stronger. He’s smarter. He’s … he’s funnier. And he’s so much better in bed, it was like waking up from a bad dream. Or just a boring dream. It was like … like going from eating bologna sandwiches out of a baggie to filet mignon on a china plate. And since I’m never going to want that rubbery, crappy bologna again in my life, you can Just. Get. Out.” Each of those last words was accompanied by another shove at his chest.

“Yeah?” Mark said. “What, he’s willing to wait an hour for you to come?”

The teenagers made some “Oh, my god” noises and kept filming, and Harlan stood back and crossed his arms. She was on a roll, no question about it.

“No,” Jennifer said, all but bouncing on her toes. “He’s willing to work an hour, if that’s what it takes. But guess what? It hardly takes any time at all, because he’s not rushing to get there, which means by the time he does, I actually want it. Oh, and he’s actually good at it, too. He can do things with his tongue that you can only dream about. He’s got positions. He can—”

That was when Harlan took a couple steps forward, got his arm around her waist, and said, “OK, baby, I think you told him. Don’t let everybody in on all my secret techniques, now.”

She stared at him like she’d just come out of the fog. He recognized the feeling. “I have more to say,” she informed him.

He laughed. “Yeah. I bet you do. But you know … they’re recording.”

“Oh.” She blinked at the two girls with the phones. “I don’t care. You don’t have to settle, girls,” she called out. “You can do better. You get to have an orgasm every time, too. If he’s not doing it, find somebody who will.”

“All righty, then,” Harlan said. “Step away from the microphone.”

Annabelle was laughing. Harlan had barely heard her laugh since she’d moved in, other than during his unfortunate swimsuit encounter, but she was sure as hell laughing now. Dyma was coming up the driveway, too, saying, “Mom? What’s going on? Oh, hi, Annabelle.