She tacked the layout back up and flitted out the door. “Have a great meeting, you guys.”
And somehow Jessie survived the next forty-five minutes, but only by not taking one more look at Cade in two or three dimensions.
Until the very last moment, when Fin closed up her leather portfolio and stood to leave, tilting her head toward the picture that hung on the wall.
“Perhaps this is uncomfortable,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to make a point of it in front of Scarlet, but if either of you prefers anonymity in that photo, I’ll back you on that.”
Jessie felt Cade’s gaze on her, but she kept her attention on Fin. “Thank you, Fin. That’s very kind of you.”
Fin nodded. “Why don’t you discuss it privately for a few minutes?” She scooped up her papers and headed toward the door. “I have a personal phone call to make, Jessie, but after that, I’ll meet you in the lobby. We’re off to the Revlon offices for an advertising meeting.”
Before either of them could argue, Fin left the room, and closed the door behind her.
“That was awkward,” Cade said.
“That was sweet.” Their simultaneous assessments cancelled each other out.
“Sweet?” Cade choked the word out. “What was sweet about it?”
Jessie swiveled her conference room chair in his direction, something she hadn’t done for the entire meeting. Did she think he wouldn’t notice that she didn’t look at him? He braced himself as she reached up and took off her glasses, and gave him one endless gaze rich with question and meaning.
The only problem was, he didn’t know the answers and couldn’t interpret her look.
“I think she was being very classy,” Jessie said quietly.
“She realizes this might be prickly for us.”
“Precisely. Awkward, as I said.”
“It doesn’t have to be, Cade.”
For the zillionth time, Cade wondered exactly how she’d react if he’d told her he’d overheard her telephone conversation. That he knew she saw the shadowing assignment as a chance to “dig around.” That she’d promised someone that she’d be back. And that she loved that same someone, whoever he was.
“I’m just keeping things professional,” he said simply. If he showed his cards now and called her on the corporate espionage, she’d run away. And he’d hurt in a wholly different kind of way.
Besides, he rationalized, if she disappeared, he’d never know who’d hired her and he wouldn’t risk making that mistake. He’d made enough mistakes where Jessie Clayton was concerned; at least he would find out who sent the mole into his operation.
“As far as that is concerned—” He indicated the layout wall. “I still believe we should blur the faces.”
She followed his finger to the image, a smile tugging at her pretty mouth. “I like it.”
“Of course you do,” he said wryly. “You’ve got me by the…eyeballs in that picture.”
A hint of color darkened her cheeks. “That’s not why I like it.”
He waited, expecting her to elaborate.
“I like it because…” Her gaze slid to him and she leaned closer, a whisper of her perfume landing on him with the impact of a blow to the chest. “That was a special day.”
She was either a trained actress or a natural-born liar. Because everything in her face and eyes screamed that she was telling the truth.
“Yes, it was.” Past tense being all important.
Surprising him, she stood, and nothing could stop his gaze from traveling down over the khaki-colored pencil skirt that hugged her slender body and the black knit top that curved into her waist and over her rounded breasts.
Cursing the blood rush to his loins, he forced himself to look at his PDA. He picked up the device and absently clicked today’s schedule. “We better make a decision. I have a meeting and you’ll be late for Revlon.”
When he looked up, she stood in front of the layout wall, her hand on one hip, her heart-shaped backside notched maddeningly to one side as she studied the picture.
The remembered feel of that backside under his hands and against his body clutched at him, and he mentally cursed the reflexive response of his body.
“Well,” he said, forcing his tone to belie the strain she was causing in his lower half, “what do you think?”
She spun on her heels and faced him. “I think we need to talk. Can I come over tonight?” Unconsciously, she smoothed her hands over her hips and they rested on her thighs.
Was that a nervous gesture, or some subtle body language to seduce him? God, would he ever trust a woman again?
Maybe seducing him was part of her game. Well, hell, he wasn’t a moron. He could have sex and not spill company secrets all over the sheets.
Why not? If she was offering it? He didn’t have to listen to some inner voice that said she was special, different, fresh.
Of course not. He was a red-blooded American male surging with testosterone. He could have casual sex. It didn’t have to rock his world just because last weekend had.
“Sure,” he said with a forced half smile. “I’ll be home tonight.”
“Great.”
He could have sworn she paled a bit. Was she expecting him to say no? Had he called her bluff?
“And what about the ‘Color Me Charismatic’ picture?” she asked. “Shall we hide or go public?”
“I have nothing to hide, Jessie. Do you?”
She brushed a strand of silky hair from her face, but didn’t look away. “We’ll talk tonight,” she said.
Unless she planned to be brutally honest with him, he doubted they’d be doing much talking. And the thought left him with a jumble of mixed emotions and a hard-on that threatened to return all day.
Jessie had resisted the urge to wear a little extra makeup or some seriously tight jeans for her visit to Cade’s that night. She felt uncomfortable as it was, having to initiate the date. Her only concession to vanity was to lose her glasses and unbraid her hair.
But as she stood outside Cade’s door, she suddenly wondered if that would be enough to melt the iciness she’d been feeling for four days.
No. She didn’t have to pretend to be some kind of super-model for Cade. She wasn’t here to jump his bones, anyway. She wanted some answers. If Cade had changed his mind and did a three-sixty from “leave your toothbrush here” to “I’m just being professional,” then she had a right to know. And to know why.
She tapped on the door.
No more wondering. No more fretting. No more trying to analyze his every nuance. They’d slept together and whispered intimate endearments. They’d explored each other’s body and tenderly given and taken the most exquisite pleasures.
They’d—
Cade opened his apartment door and all Jessie could do was stare. And imagine doing all those things again. Immediately. Without talking.
He wore jeans. And nothing else but an expression that somehow mixed disdain and expectancy.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
Her gaze dropped to the bare, broad planes of his chest, to the smattering of dark golden hair that curled deliciously between his nipples and then flattened in a single line that traveled over a well-defined six-pack and led directly to his unbuttoned fly.
Not fair, she almost whispered. So not fair.
“Come on in.” He widened the door and stepped back.
She glanced at his bare feet, where worn jeans broke over his arch and the tiniest golden hairs on his toes matched the sleek tuft on his chest.
“Are you busy?” she asked.
Stupid question. He was half-naked, with weary shadows around his eyes. He’d probably been resting, or watching TV, or…
As she followed him into the living room, she saw the answer to her question all over the table in his dining area. Files and papers, an open laptop, a few layout pages from Charisma.
“You’re working.”
“Yep.” He directed her away from the pile o
f papers to the living room and turned to go into the kitchen. “And I’m just about ready for a beer. Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
She watched the corded muscles of his back tense as he moved. Yes. She was starved and parched. For that.
“I’ll have some water.”
He returned in a minute with a beer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “You can sit down,” he said, handing her the water.
She perched on the edge of a club chair. “What are you working on?” she asked as she opened the bottle, trying to ignore the fact that he didn’t open it for her.
He took a long drink of beer and dropped onto his leather sofa. The one where they’d made love just a few days ago.
“Numbers,” he said. “I’ve got a meeting with Liam Elliott tomorrow morning.”
“Liam.” She spun through her mental file of Elliotts. “He’s the financial operating officer of EPH, right?” And Michael Elliott’s second son.
Cade nodded. “He’s also a good buddy of mine, so he generally cuts me a lot of slack on the financials. But, now…” His voice trailed off and he took another deep pull of beer.
She watched his throat work the liquid and her own got extremely dry at the sight. “Now, what?”
His gaze tapered over the bottle. “You know what’s going on at EPH, Jessie. The future CEO of the company hinges on one year’s profit percentage.”
She sipped her water and he continued to watch her expectantly. This was going to be all up to her. “Cade, I didn’t come over here to talk about financials.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “What’s on your mind, Jessie?”
“Are you serious?” She let her shoulders drop as the disappointment thunked to the bottom of her stomach. “Am I supposed to act like last weekend never happened? Are you going to pretend it didn’t?”
He set the bottle on the table and leaned all the way forward, resting his elbows on his knees and melting her with a smoky gaze. “How would you like me to act, Jessie?”
She blew out a disgusted breath. “I don’t want you to act, Cade. That’s the point. I want the real, honest, kind, loving—”
“Loving?”
Her fingertips tingled with numbness at the incredulous way he said it.
“Well, yes.” She squared her shoulders and looked hard at him. She hated to say it, but she had to. “Or was that purely physical lust with absolutely no possibility for anything else?”
His gray eyes warmed imperceptibly, a change that only a woman who’d made a science out of studying him would notice.
“Love,” he said softly, “is irrevocably tied to trust.”
She stared at him. “What do you mean, Cade? You are acting like I did something to breach your trust. You were the one who issued an executive edict that went directly against my wishes.” She shook her head, the point so clear to her and yet he looked like she was lying. “And you were the one who didn’t bother to tell me, but let me find out through the grapevine. And you—”
“And you are in love with someone else.”
Her jaw dropped as she processed the words. “What?”
“Not to mention the fact that you are using Charisma and Fin and me to dig around for competitive information.”
All she could do was blink at him. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I heard you,” he said quietly, his whole body stone-still as he delivered his announcement. “I went to your apartment on Monday afternoon and I heard you on the phone telling someone this was an opportunity to dig. Telling someone you loved him.”
Relief and understanding and something she couldn’t begin to define practically shook her down to her shoes. “Oh my God, Cade.” She fell back into her chair as realization punched her. “I was talking to my father.”
This time he blinked, then his gaze turned chilly again. “About spying on Charisma?”
“What are you talking about?”
“First you avoid Fin like the plague, then you don’t want to take the shadow intern assignment, then you do a three-sixty, take the job and tell someone that you’re only doing it to get information.”
What was he implying?
“This is a very competitive situation, Jessie. I don’t put anything past the Elliotts when they want something.”
Realization morphed into a tidal wave of disbelief. “You think I’m spying for one of the other magazines?” Just the sound of it was so ludicrous that she laughed.
But he didn’t even smile. “Can you sit there and deny that you told someone that you were living a lie, and that you referred to the shadowing assignment as a means to ‘dig for information’ and that you made a promise to someone that you’d be back because you loved them? Can you, Jessie? Because I heard you.”
She started to speak, then closed her mouth as the whole situation crystallized in her mind. And another realization hit her: The only way to make him believe her would be to tell him the truth about Fin.
In fact, she realized as the puzzle pieces started snapping into place with wicked clarity, if she didn’t tell him, she had no explanation for what was, under the circumstances, a reasonable assumption.
Of course he would think this. Of course. And if he knew the truth—if she revealed to him that Finola Elliott was her birth mother and what she was digging for was confirmation that Fin wanted to meet her too—then what? Would all be forgiven and understood? Would he take her in his arms and kiss her again?
She had to know.
“If I could prove to you that you’re wrong, Cade, absolutely wrong without a shadow of a doubt, what would you do?”
He stood slowly, looking down at her. “If you could prove to me I’m wrong, Jessie, then…”
“Then what, Cade?”
Love is irrevocably tied to trust.
“Then I would feel like a complete jerk.”
Despite the emotion squeezing her, she laughed softly at that. “You’re not a jerk, Cade. At least, you weren’t until Monday afternoon.”
He reached a hand to her and she let him gently pull her out of the chair to stand in front of him. Neither one said a word as they looked at each other, heat and electricity ricocheting through the few inches that separated them.
“Prove to me I’m wrong, Jessie.” As though he couldn’t stop the power of nature, he reached for her, pulling her just a little closer. “You have no idea how much I want to be wrong.”
His voice was husky, the scent of his bare skin dizzying as he brought her against his chest.
“I know you hate the idea of this,” she said, lifting her face toward his mouth, nearly tasting his kiss, her body already moist in anticipation, “but you’ve made a mistake, Cade. This time you’ve made a mistake.”
His mouth came down hard on hers, a kiss pent up for four long days and four endless nights. She pressed her body against his, loving the substantial erection that pushed against her stomach and the velvet-over-steel feel of his bare muscles under her fingers.
From deep in his chest, he groaned softly, sliding his tongue farther into her mouth as she arched her breasts against his chest. He buried his hands in her hair as he held her head, angling her face to get the full impact of their kiss.
“Jessie,” he murmured into her mouth, kissing her face, her ears, her throat. “If I made a mistake, tell me. Tell me the truth. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You are, Cade. I promise.”
His hands grazed her shoulders and slid over her breasts, squeezing them in his palms before he dipped under her arms to pull her closer. “So? Tell me. What were you talking to your father about? Digging for information about what? Why does it feel like you’re living a lie?”
They were perfectly legitimate questions.
She opened her eyes and backed away from the dizzy, sexy heat of his hands to think clearly. She couldn’t tell him before she told Fin.
And she couldn’t tell Fin yet.
As much as she saw a kinder, softer side of Fin this week, it was still to
o soon. She had to have some kind of proof that Fin would welcome the news.
“Tell me,” he insisted, pulling her back to caress her backside and drive her against his erection. “Because I want to make love to you so bad, Jessie. I want you so much, so much.” His voice was hoarse, his breathing tight.
Between her legs, a slow, achy throb had begun and creamy moisture already dampened her underpants.
“You have to trust me, Cade,” she whispered between kisses. “You have to just trust me.”
Suddenly, his body stiffened, then slowly, agonizingly, pulled back. His eyes were charcoal with lust and arousal, his mouth slack from the passionate kisses.
“I want to trust you, Jessie, but you have to trust me, too. Tell me why you said those things to whoever you were talking to.”
She heard her own breath turn slow and ragged. “I told you, I was talking to my father.”
“Okay.” He might as well have said “Yeah, right,” it was so clear he doubted her word. “Then what were you talking about?”
“Cade, if we are ever going to have a chance at anything, if there’s any hope that this could be more than lust, then you have to do this for me.” She looked hard into his eyes. “I can’t tell you. You have to trust me.”
He took a step back as though the only way he could have control was if there was physical distance between them. “Why can’t you tell me?”
“I can’t.”
His eyes flashed. “You can’t or you won’t?”
“I can’t.” Please, Cade. Please don’t make this a showdown. “And I won’t.”
Very slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t believe this.”
“I’ll tell you this much. There is something. But I am not some corporate spy and I am not trying to get information from you and I am not in love with anyone else.”
He stared at her.
“Do you believe me, Cade?”
His eyes turned cool, his mouth set in that grim line. Bad news straight ahead. “I want to, but—”
But. Without another word, she stepped past him and walked out without looking back.
The Intern Affair Page 9