by Jodi Redford
For the love of Pete. That whole idiot thing? She knew how to wear it well. Clearly. Probably far more ably than the damn teddy. “I just need to pay for this first.”
She headed to the register and he fell into step beside her. Frowning, she glanced up at him. “Aren’t you getting anything?”
“Only gathering some ideas.”
For what? She didn’t voice the question. Hearing whatever he had up his sleeve for some other woman was a torment she didn’t need.
~*~
For convenience sake, they chose the Mandarin Garden Chinese restaurant since it was within easy walking distance. She ordered the cashew chicken while Jack opted for the pork lo mein. Sipping her piping hot jasmine tea, she waited for him to kick off the conversation so she’d at least have a decent excuse for staring at his mouth.
“What do you think of having the party on Harsens Island? A friend of mine owns a winery and brewhouse on the South channel.”
“Sounds classy and respectable.” In other words, the complete opposite of what would have gone down if she’d been the only one planning the shindig. Probably a good thing she had him there to help her out with this too. “Cash bar, I presume? I love my brother and Marissa, but the alternative is so not happening. Unless I can convince my mortgage company to let me pay with my charm this month...”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”
Wow. Obviously he held little hope of her hocking her charm. Can’t imagine why that would be. “No, I’m paying half.”
He unrolled the utensils from his napkin, his attention studiously pinned to the task. “Not necessary.”
“Bullshit it’s not.”
He finally glanced at her, his brow furrowed. “Jane, it was my idea.”
“I don’t care. You’re not making me look like a damn cheapo.”
“How’s that possible? No one’s going to know I’m covering the cost.”
“I will.” She set her cup back in the saucer with a clatter. “Half. That’s the end of it.”
He tweaked the bridge of his nose, presumably frustrated at her stubbornness on the matter. “We’ll discuss this later.”
“There’s nothing more to discuss,” she reminded him firmly.
“Christ, you’re the most bull-headed woman on the planet.” He frowned when she reached for her purse and stood. “Where are you going?”
“To the restroom.” She offered him a shrewd look. “You thought I was storming out on you.”
He leaned back in his chair, his expression bland. “Not at all.”
“You totally did. I can’t believe you’d think I’d walk away from a perfectly good opportunity to argue with you.” She tucked her strap over her shoulder and pivoted on her heel. Once she’d reached the privacy of the bathroom, she sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly.
Why was she letting him get to her? And it wasn’t only the bickering over how they’d split the party costs, either. Jack’s presence was fraying her nerves, to the point she couldn’t concentrate on the other matter rattling her composure—her date tonight.
She dug her cell phone from her purse and inspected the time. In a few short hours she’d be able to check into the hotel. Then her nerves would really have something to jitter over. Assuming she had any left after this lunch.
Quit arguing with him over stupid stuff and wrap this up before you completely lose your damn mind. It’d be the wise thing to do. Why prolong lunch any longer than she had to?
Because you’re a glutton for punishment and you enjoy the bastard’s company. It was the damnable truth. Being around him was an all too enticing reminder of why she’d said yes to that first date eighteen months ago. Yes, there was no denying Jack was easy on the eyes, and that played a big part in her instantaneous attraction to him. But there was also that indefinable magnetic pull. The crazy, heady spark of chemistry that’d doomed her from the start. It was still there. At least for her. She already knew it was far from the case for him.
Or was it? She hadn’t been the only one hot and bothered by the kiss the other night.
As if its sole intent was to trip her up at every opportunity, her mind conjured the memory of her fingers wrapped in Jack’s hair, his breath warm and ragged on her neck while the shockwaves of her orgasm ricocheted through her body.
Why are you thinking about this? For fuck’s sake, she was mere hours away from purging her mind of Jack with enough raunchy sex to impress Hugh Hefner. That should be her primary focus. Keeping the reminder front and center in her noggin, she availed herself of one of the stalls before freshening up and returning to the table. She glanced at the empty place settings and grouched under her breath. So much for skedaddling out of here soon.
“The waitress stopped over to say it’ll be another five minutes on the food.” Jack had read her mind, apparently. Or her grumble had been a dead giveaway. Regardless, he didn’t look too inconvenienced by the delay. He must not have a job he needed to rush back to. Or he’d taken the day off, like her. An early start to a long weekend that no doubt had something to do with those ideas he’d been gathering earlier at Bad Barb’s Wicked Emporium.
She picked up her tea and took another swig in a fruitless attempt to steer her musings away from dark, choppy waters. It was no use. When it came to Jack, her obsessive thoughts were a big ole iceberg ready to sink her.
“You’re unusually quiet. Should I be worried?”
No more than me, if I don’t snuff this crazy attraction to you. “Just mulling things over.”
“Always a dangerous prospect.”
He had no damn idea. She returned her cup to its resting place and plunked her chin in her hand. If she couldn’t dig for info that would ultimately torment her she’d have to appease her curiosity in other areas. Not that she was counting on a straight answer from him. “You obviously know your way around women’s lingerie.”
He appeared surprised by her observation. “I’m a guy. We tend to like the stuff.”
She tapped her bottom lip with her finger. “True, but you really knew what you were doing back there at the store. Either you’ve bought a shit-ton of lingerie before or you get paid to do it.”
He blinked at her. “That’s a huge leap.”
“Is it?” She shrugged. “I don’t have much else to go by, considering I have no damn idea what you even do for a living.”
He eyed her for a long moment. “What is it with you and my job?”
“How else do you expect me to be when you’re so damned closed-lipped about it? For all I know, you’re a freakin’ drug lord.”
“I’m not.”
She sniffed. “Fine. Then you leave me no choice but to assume you’re a professional drag queen. It’d explain your superior knowledge of women’s clothing. You were probably in there buying your costume for this weekend’s performance.”
His mouth crooked at one corner, adding to his ridiculous sexiness. “Damn. You’ve figured it out.”
The waitress appeared with their food, putting a momentary ceasefire on their conversation. Jane wasn’t sure if she should be happy or sad about that. On the one hand, she felt like she was seconds away from lifting the veil from a tiny section of Jack’s mysterious life. Wishful thinking on her part, undoubtedly. Better not to tumble down that rabbit hole.
Shoving aside her pointless musings, she dug into her chicken. After a few minutes, she looked up to find Jack watching her with unabashed interest. She finished chewing. The whole time he continued staring at her like a rude jackwagon. She awarded him a fierce squint. “What’s your deal?”
“I’d forgotten how much you enjoy food.”
“Did you seriously just call me a pig?”
He appeared suitably confused. “No, not at all.”
A devil rode her shoulder. She knew damn well anything she said beyond this point would only be an excuse to give him shit. But there was no stopping her now. She fucking lived to give people shit. And Jack was the Holy Grail of shit re
cipients. “Are you sure? Because from where I’m sitting, it sounded like you were two seconds away from oinking at me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a meal. Hell, ninety-nine percent of the women I’ve gone out with left me seriously questioning if they ever eat. Not in public. For damn sure.”
She waved her fork. “See, I could never understand starving yourself when you’re on a date. Would never be the case with me. If a man can’t handle me scarfing down a triple decker burger and fries, he can fuck off.”
“I rest my case. You’re obviously unconcerned with what anyone thinks, and you enjoy the good things in life. It’s refreshing and remarkably sexy.”
Damn it. He hadn’t fallen for any of her carefully placed bait at all. Furthermore, she had a sneaky suspicion he’d somehow played her at her own game. Crafty son of a bitch. She gave him the stink eye. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
“No.” His gaze dipped to her mouth for a moment before lifting to return her stare. “Do you want me to be?”
It took an embarrassing amount of seconds to catch the double meaning in his words. Best to pin the blame for her pathetically slow uptake on the food coma starting to set in courtesy of the cashew chicken she’d wolfed down. “Is that a proposition?”
His expression remained damnably inscrutable. “What if it is?”
“Then I’m going to ask the cook what the hell he or she put in your lo mein.”
The sizzle she’d sworn she’d glimpsed in his gaze earlier reappeared. He allowed it to linger this time. A freakin’ record for Jack. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the kiss.”
His admission instigated a warm glow of giddiness. She stomped the ridiculous sensation into submission before it could do her in. So what if he’d been thinking about her for a few days? He’d been a constant presence in her mind for eighteen fucking months. Sorry, but she won this round of self-flagellation. Better luck next time, buddy. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I thought maybe you’d want to know.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Again, why? Because you assumed I’d drop at your feet, grateful for the chance to finally get my hands on your cock?”
“Of course not. It’s just...”
“What?” she demanded, despising the edginess in her tone. The last thing she needed was him getting a glimpse of her vulnerable underbelly.
He continued studying her. Her nerves on the brink of officially snapping, he finally broke the thick silence. “You don’t need the porn star. Or Master Kink. Whatever the fuck you want to call him.”
That’s what this was about. She should have known. “You still don’t think he exists.” This was the consequence of her BS catching up with her. Even when she was telling the truth, he refused to believe it.
“None of that matters.” He leaned forward, his compelling gaze reeling her in. “I want you and you want me. Focus on what’s right here.” His palm landed on the tabletop, rattling it slightly.
Once upon a time, she would have responded by grabbing his hand and dragging him into the women’s restroom, where they’d promptly fuck each other’s brains out. But she’d wasted too much of her life hoping for the impossible with him.
They’d sleep with each other, then what? He’d send a text tomorrow, reinforcing his desire that they stay friends? Hell, how would that even work, considering they were barely on speaking terms now? It’d be an immensely larger load of BS than anything she routinely dished out, and she’d have no one to blame but herself for the inevitable big fall.
Sucking in a deep breath, she conjured every scrap of her willpower. “I’m flattered. Truly. But I have a date to get ready for and I’m already running late.”
She fully expected him to call her out as a liar again. Instead, he remained quiet and reached for the bill. His focus slid to her when she dug for her wallet. “I’m getting it.”
The tension in his voice stalled her short. Although it damn near killed her, she tucked her wallet back in her purse. He left the tip and led the way to the checkout. Once he’d settled their tab, they took the short walk back to the parking lot. The silence was noticeably strained but she made no move to fill it with empty small talk. Fuck it. He started all of this. If he wanted to stew, let him.
She headed toward her car and he fell in step right along with her rather than veer off in the direction of his Maserati. He wanted to make this as awkward as humanly possible, apparently. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her keys out and clicked the lock release. She halted next to her door and plastered on a smile for his benefit. “Thank you for lunch.”
The faint smolder in his gaze tripped her pulse but it was the indecipherable emotion riding shotgun that left her discombobulated. As if he were well aware of that fact and intent on thoroughly decimating her equilibrium, he boxed her against the convertible and slid his mouth over hers.
The kiss’s intensity was a duplicate of the one they’d shared the other night, with about one thousand additional degrees of blistering heat to pack an extra punch. Good thing she was wedged between two rock-solid objects. Otherwise, she’d be another unrecognizable oil slick taking up real estate beneath their feet. She whimpered and he pushed his advantage by sucking her tongue with a lazy glide that stirred wicked tingles deep in her core. He pulled back and licked his lips, his pupils so dark, his eyes appeared blacker than night. “Think about what I said.”
She couldn’t remember her own name after that kiss, much less what he’d said five minutes ago. Fortunately, he apparently didn’t require an immediate reply since he pivoted and strode toward his vehicle, leaving her to gape at him like a damn idiot.
Her cell phone chimed, jerking her out of her trance. Struggling to reclaim her senses, she fished the device from her purse and glanced at the calendar event that’d popped up on the screen—a reminder for her check-in at the hotel in a few hours.
Talk about perfect timing. Because what she desperately needed more than anything was to get this night of debauchery started. Then Jack and his devastating kisses would be nothing but a memory.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Anticipation compressed inside her like a bottle rocket ready to ignite. Combined with the nervous brew in her stomach, it was a damn wonder she didn’t toss her cookies the second she plopped her purse on the registration desk. What a great impression that would have made. I’m here for my room. Raaaaaalph.
The sophisticated brunette with the perfect teeth and manicure glanced up from her computer. Ten to one she’d never dealt with the possibility of upchucking on her way to have kinky sex with her hired escort.
Be more like Ms. Perky Teeth, Jane. You can do it. You can do eeeeet.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, I’m checking in. Reservation is under Jane Campbell.” She handed over her license and credit card.
The receptionist did some clicking on her keyboard. “You’re only staying with us for one night?”
Although the disappointment in her tone was obviously a standard part of the spiel, it was delivered with such Oscar-worthy believability Jane almost felt compelled to promise a return visit if she ever had a need for another kinky hookup.
Which come on, like that wasn’t going to happen. Wonder if they offer a discount rate for repeat guests?
“You’re in room 305. Your stay includes a complimentary continental breakfast. It’s from six until ten.”
She debated inquiring if her room came with sound proof walls, but probably that would have made things awkward between her and Perky Teeth. Instead, she accepted the keycard and made her way to the elevators. Roughly twenty seconds later she schlepped her overnight bag down the long hallway of the third floor, on the lookout for the correct room. She located it nearly at the end, on the right side of the corridor. Snicking the card in the slot, she waited for the green flashing light, and then pushed the door open. The drapes were drawn, allowing late afternoon sun to flood the room.
The space was elegant w
ithout being ostentatious. Taupe walls with framed prints of the Detroit skyline. Definitely not the typical backdrop for wild, elicit monkey sex. She turned her attention to the king-sized bed, the star attraction where said monkey sex would take place. Plenty of room to get creative. Hell, they could play naked Twister on that sucker if they wanted. She dropped her bag and crawled onto the mattress. Balancing on her hands and knees, she bounced around a bit, testing the springs. Not a squeak. Good, because she’d be doing plenty of that on her own, along with some gasps and moans. If things went exceptionally well, maybe an occasional yodel.
She trekked back to her bag and fetched her newly-purchased teddy and the sleep mask that’d serve as a blindfold. Leaving those on the foot of the bed for now, she unpacked her makeup and the few toiletries she’d carted with her. Left with no further excuse to prolong her jittery anticipation, she snatched her phone and shot off a quick message to Master Kink.
JC: Finally got in. Room 305. I’ll prop the door open with that thingy-ma-jigger prop thing. That’s a technical term, in case you were wondering. Sex you in an hour. SEE, see you in an hour. Damn auto correct. Heheheh. P.S. My pussy is already soaked. A minor understatement. She had a bad feeling it was partly due to her kiss with Jack. Soon enough her traitorous response to that bastard’s handiwork would be a thing of the past.
Master Kink’s response pinged a second later. MK: Excellent. I want that pussy wet, primed, and hungry for my cock. But no playing with yourself. For the rest of the night, your orgasms belong to me, understood?
What a completely Neanderthal thing to say. JC: You better be prepared to make me come my brains out then, Mr. Bossy Britches. She grinned, wondering what he’d think of her impromptu endearment.
Her cell chirped with his reply. MK: That would be Master Bossy Britches, my little kink kitten. And I’m more than prepared. I’ll give you more orgasms than you’ll know what to do with. In the meantime, be a good girl and stock the ice bucket.