Right Moves

by Ava McKnight

  “Ten or twelve months ago?” I asked. “And you just called me last week to work on an article?”

  “What can I say?” He gave a slight shrug that was both modest and charming. “I’m one of those deliberators. You know, the type who has to chew on something for months on end before I’ll act. That’s why it took so long to get my ass off the bench and work out so I could play ball. It’s why I waited until a year and a half ago to open ProAth, when I’d dreamed of doing it when I was twenty. It’s the reason I just had this house built, when I knew years ago where I wanted to live and what I wanted the house to look like. The moment has to be right for me.”

  “So… You were deliberating over me?” I wasn’t sure how to take that, exactly, but my heart seemed to find it a beautiful sentiment, because it beat a bit stronger, causing my pulse to race.

  Jack took my empty champagne glass from me and the now bare toothpick and set them on a side table. His warm hands engulfed the one of mine that had previously held the flute and he said, his jewel-toned eyes sparkling under the soft lighting, “The thing is, it takes me a really long time to make up my mind about something. But once I do… I’m all about getting the ball rolling.”

  “Huh.”

  I was fairly close to melting at his feet.

  He leaned toward me and I got another intoxicating sniff of his cologne and male heat. As he whispered in my ear, a tremor rippled through my body. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me show you around, okay?”

  I nodded. It wasn’t that I was totally at a loss for words. I simply didn’t want to ruin such a perfect moment, and I was innately inclined to do such when thrown for a loop. So I let him wrap my fingers around the hard biceps of one of his arms. He covered my hand with his again as it gripped his muscles and we were off, touring his magnificent home. The gourmet kitchen was to die for, though he admitted lacking culinary skills. Cooking classes were on his to-do list.

  The living room was a vast, open expanse of hardwood floor and strategically placed furniture. With a self-deprecating laugh, he said, “Way over the top, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. But I like it.”

  He introduced me to his friends and clients, all of them quite obviously big fans of his. That wasn’t a surprise to me, but it was nice to see how favorably people responded to Jack. He was just as courteous and respectful in turn, and I liked him even more for his social grace.

  We wound our way through the partygoers and strolled out to the enormous back terrace.

  “This is what I wanted to show you most,” he told me.

  He led me across the redwood deck—where patio furniture, an outdoor kitchen and a large fire pit were in high demand—to the glass-and-steel railing that encompassed the deck. Miles and miles of city lights stretched before us, but we were surrounded on the sides and behind us by mountains.

  It was a heart-stopping vision.

  A bit awestruck, I jokingly said, “I thought the Four Seasons Resort had the corner market on this view.”

  “They allowed me a little slice of their pie.”

  I admired the sights around me while he seemed to admire me. Though plenty of people milled about and jazz music filled the desert night air, I felt like I had Jack all to myself. He disentangled himself from me, but stood close by at the railing, so our bodies touched. He placed his hand at the small of my back, an intimate gesture, especially given all the bare skin, though his hand lingered just below the drape of material. His gaze was solely on me, as though he saw no one else. In that moment, I fell a little bit in love with the enigmatic Jack Reed.

  The city lights twinkled below us and a warm spring breeze ruffled his already sexily mussed blond hair and billowed the crisp white dress shirt he’d paired with black pants. When his fingers on my back moved upward to the exposed skin, an electric current ran through every inch of me. His fingertips lightly grazed my spine and I swayed under the spell he cast. He leaned in close to me, his chest pressed to my shoulder to steady me.

  “There’s a view similar to this I’d like to show you. It’s even prettier. Being a nature buff, I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  He knew things about me and it made me smile up at him. He’d obviously taken the time to read my bio in the magazine.

  “Okay,” I said.

  He hesitated a moment, then added, “It’s upstairs.”

  Meaning we’d be leaving the party for a more private and intimate setting. This gave me pause as well. I continued to gaze up at him, seeing as much respect for me in his green eyes as desire. The latter sent a wicked thrill through my body, while the former eased my tension a bit. He wasn’t coaxing me upstairs to his bedroom. He wanted to show me the view from the second level and I knew it would be a stellar one.

  I was, however, forced to question whether I wanted Jack to coax me into his bedroom. Into his bed, to be exact.

  Yes, I’d thought earlier that the dress might inspire him to make a move on me. Give him the green light, as it were. But had I really considered what that would mean in the grand scheme of things? Probably not. The reality was a little more nerve-racking than I’d expected.

  Yet at the same time… I couldn’t deny all those desires I’d acknowledged earlier. In fact, I wanted Jack even more now.

  So I threw caution to the wind.

  “Show me another view.”

  He grinned at me as he offered his arm again. We took the suspended stairs to the second level and I purposely did not look around to see who watched us wander off together. I suspected discretion was the order of the day here, given the celebrity status involved. But I also knew some might assume Jack and I intended to hook up.

  He showed me the two guest suites upstairs, each one bigger than my first condo. Then we entered his room, minimally decorated with a long dresser along the back wall where an oversized archway led to the master bath. A king bed with an intricate wood frame and low headboard sat in the middle of the room, a matching nightstand next to it. The bed faced the wall of windows. Jack flipped a switch and I discovered the windows were double-paned sheets of glass with a waterfall encased within, and a fire feature that created a long line of two-foot-tall flames that ran the width of the wall, stopping short of the glass door Jack held opened for me.

  I followed him outside, glancing over my shoulder to see the flickering flames illuminate the water sluicing down the pane behind it. Sofas sat in front of the wall, if one preferred that view. It was spectacular, to be sure. But when I turned back to the sight before me on Jack’s enormous observation deck, I lost my breath.

  The hilltop to the immediate left was dotted with solar lights illuminating the tall cacti and other vegetation. The awesome cityscape still captivated me, but I loved how the smooth boulders this area was known for, along with the desert flora and fauna, were backlit by tactically placed lights on the hill.

  Jack had been right. This was precisely the view I’d enjoy.

  We stood at the railing again and I said, “This is stunning.”

  “I thought you’d like it. We have some things in common, I discovered when I started reading your articles.” He was quiet a moment, then told me, “You have a way of revealing so much about yourself in your writing without even saying anything too specific.” He laughed at the paradox, then added, “What I mean is, your passion for nature and your love of animals comes through in your writing. So does your adventurous side. I really liked your series on the desert tours you took last fall and your hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon.”

  “I thought that hike would kill me,” I admitted with a laugh. “I should have been in better shape before I agreed to take on the assignment. My guide stopped every half hour or so to make sure I ate something.”

  “Protein supplements would’ve helped.”

  “That’s what he said. I think he was worried I was going to wilt away on the trip down and he wouldn’t know what to do with the body.”

  Jack chuckled. “But you made it.”

 
“And loved every second. Have you hiked it?”

  “Yeah. I went to elementary school in Flagstaff and in the sixth grade, the annual end-of-the-year science project was to hike the Canyon and identify the sedimentary rock layers and the various flowers. We had to train all year by running the perimeter of the playground before we started class.” He frowned. “You can imagine I always brought up the rear.”

  “I would have too,” I told him. “But you made it, right?”

  He nodded. “And loved every second.”

  I so liked him. No, it was more than that. With every passing moment in his magnetic presence, I knew I was absolutely crazy about him. His humility was refreshing and engaging. He didn’t try to convince me he was some macho stallion to be revered. He had the face and body of Adonis, but he knew his roots. He didn’t shy away from his past shortcomings. And the fact that he spent so much time processing his next steps told me he didn’t make impulsive moves he might regret. This guy knew what he was doing, and I found a huge amount of comfort in that. I also found his honesty and forthrightness endearing.

  I wanted to know more about him. I wanted to know everything. “I read somewhere you moved to Scottsdale when you were in junior high. That’s when you started playing football?”

  “Yeah, my dad was my inspiration for trying out in the first place. He’s pretty amazing. My parents were just starting college when I was born. They really struggled when I was a kid, but the more difficult the situation, the more he seemed to excel. He opened his first business when we were still in Flag. He’s always loved working on cars and ended up with two shops here in Scottsdale. One specializes in mechanical and body repairs, the other does full-blown builds of classic car and hot-rod kits.”

  “So you got your talent for tinkering with things from him?”

  With a nod, he said, “Yeah. I was always running around his shop with a wrench, wanting to adjust nuts and bolts. Spending so much time with him helped me with the mechanical aspects of building a workout machine.”

  “He must be proud of you.”

  “He does like to brag,” Jack said with a soft laugh. “My mother’s worse.”

  “Are you all still close?” I asked.

  “Yes. Very much so. Though my Dad’s successful in his own right, I bought them a plot of land a few miles down the road last year for their anniversary and we built a nice house on it.”

  “That was generous of you.”

  “They’re my parents,” he said with a grin. “I’m happy to be able to return the favor, considering all the sacrifices they made for me since birth. Plus I really like having them close by. We have dinner together every Sunday. Watch football during the season and barbecue. Or enjoy a simple pot roast or chicken in the winter. Salads in the summer when we’re all sick of the heat. You know, the usual.”

  I swallowed down a hard lump of emotion. The “usual” for Jack Reed was something I’d longed for since I was seven years old. I didn’t begrudge him his wonderful family life. But I certainly envied it.

  “Hey,” he said as I remained silent. His fingers skimmed my bare shoulder as his head dipped to mine and he asked in a low voice, “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” I was quick to assure him. “Oh God, no. Of course not.” I had to blink back the threat of tears, though. “No, it’s not you. It’s just… That’s very touching. About you and your parents. What does your mother do?” I found myself asking, though my stomach twisted in knots.

  Jack let out a mocking groan that was playful. “Oh she obsesses over my dad working too much and me playing football, because she was always afraid I’d get hurt. Or wondering when I’m going to meet the right woman and bring her to Sunday dinner.”

  “So basically she’s nuts about you and your dad.” A lump of emotion swelled in my throat and I fought to dislodge it, to swallow it down.

  Jack said, “She was a stay-at-mom when I was growing up. When we moved to Scottsdale, she became extremely active in the community. I have immense respect for her. The woman is a gift to volunteerism and charitable organizations, and she’s always been a solid presence in my life.”

  I tore my gaze from his and stared out at the city in which I’d been born. The solid presence in my life had been a nanny who’d passed away five years ago. I’d adored her, but I’d never been able to love her, despite how wonderful and maternal she’d been. My emotional deficiencies were not a result of anything she’d done or not done. I’d simply not been able to transfer any sort of feeling to her, aside from gratitude that she’d taken such great care of me. That doom-and-gloom fear had started with her. Every time she was a minute late in picking me up because of a traffic jam or a flat tire, I’d panicked. And believed the worse—that she’d abandoned me like my mother had.

  I could have easily lost myself to melancholy at this point, but as Jack’s fingers brushed along my nape, beneath my loosely pinned hair, I knew I wanted to move on from my despair. Literally as much as figuratively.

  Before he could inquire about my family, I said, “I like your house, Jack. And your hospitality.”

  He gazed down at me, a sparkle in his eyes. “And my ulterior motives?”

  “I haven’t discovered any yet.”

  “I didn’t want to share you with everyone downstairs. I realize that means I should have invited you out on a proper date, just the two of us. But I didn’t know I was going to feel quite this way.”

  My breath hitched. “What way?”

  His fingers swept slowly down my spine, making me shiver. “The second you walked through the door, all I could think was, ‘I hope she never wants to leave’.”

  I stared at him, wondering if I’d heard him right. Wondering if the one greatest fear I’d always had could be quelled with those simple words. He didn’t want me to leave.

  Despite my best effort to hold it at bay, a tear welled in my eye and crested the rim, sliding slowly down my flushed cheek. “That’s about the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I told him. Then I shook my head and amended, “That is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” More accurately, it was the most significant thing anyone had ever said to me.

  But Jack had no idea of my internal strife. He asked, “Then why am I making you cry?”

  “You’re not,” I said with a half laugh. I swiped at the fat drop on my jaw. “I’m not crying. I’m just…overly emotional. Don’t mind me.”

  He stared quizzically at me, his concern apparent, though he didn’t pry. His fingers continued to caress my back with a featherlight touch that made my skin tingle and my stomach flutter. I gripped the railing in front of me with one hand, to steady myself, as I clutched my small bag in the other. Jack’s very simple touch was highly arousing.

  When he dropped a soft kiss on my bare shoulder, I let out a sigh that seemed to echo my yearning for him to touch me everywhere, not just my back. He got the hint. He brushed the strands of hair from the side of my neck and placed a gentle kiss there, just below my ear. I pulled in a long, ragged breath. My heart hammered in my chest and my body trembled.

  “You are insanely beautiful,” he whispered. “Very Nicole Kidman, but…even sexier. Every time I see you, I can’t take my eyes off you.”

  I’d felt the same way about him since I’d met him in person. He had a very commanding and captivating presence that had immediately sucked me in. I wasn’t inclined to break the bond that seemed to have instantly formed between us when we’d met. If anything, I wanted to strengthen it.

  I turned in his loose embrace as his lips skated over my jaw before lightly touching the corner of my mouth. His warm breath teased my skin and smelled of spearmint. Anticipation of tasting his kiss, and knowing I’d feel the effects of it all the way to my toes, made my pulse soar.

  My body gravitated to his until we were almost melded together. I balanced my small purse on the railing and then pressed a hand to his upper arm. My other hand slid between us at his chest and my fingers curled around the materia
l of his dress shirt where it was opened at the neck. My thumb toyed with the button that would release more of the flap and reveal his pectoral muscles. Because of my height, my left breast rested below the hard ledge of his chest. I desperately wanted to feel his skin against mine, so I didn’t hesitate any longer in freeing the button from its hole.

  I splayed my hand over his hot, smooth flesh and his muscles bunched beneath my touch. He let out a low groan, and then his lips tangled with mine in slow, sexy kisses that turned me inside out. His tongue only gingerly teased my lips, not yet delving inside my mouth. I liked the prelude. Heat flooded my veins and a dull throb built deep in my pussy, a tantalizing ache that wasn’t uncomfortable. It was erotic and tempting, and sparked carnal cravings I hadn’t ever experienced.

  As my body went up in flames, my hand on Jack’s chest moved to the back of his head, my fingers tangling in his spiky hair that was actually very soft. The slight though clearly insistent pressure I applied coaxed him into covering his mouth with mine as he kissed me deeply, his tongue expertly leading mine into a sensual dance that left me weak in the knees.

  His arms tightened around me, crushing my body to his. I instantly fell in love with the way we fit together and how wonderful it felt to be wrapped in his embrace, his heat and muscles surrounding me.

  The desire to feel his skin against mine intensified and I eventually pulled away—no easy feat because I’d just as soon give up breathing than break our kiss. I did anyway, and took him by the hand, guiding him away from the railing and the watchful eyes below us into the shadows that lingered closer to his bedroom.

  I was no seductress, but then again, I didn’t need to be. Jack had made his intentions quite clear, so I let my instincts take over. We’d only made it to the glass door when he pulled me back to him and kissed me again. I was wedged between him and the cool glass, a titillating contrast of temperatures enveloping me. Actually, the slight chill at my back provided relief from the blaze roaring through me.