by Linda Cajio
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” she said, her own voice husky.
“I can see you stretching your body under the sheets in that leisurely way you have that’s incredibly sensual. You did it at the lake.”
“I did?”
“You did. You might as well have punched me in the stomach, that’s how much you took my breath. Why do you think I couldn’t resist kissing you?”
“I …”
“I still can’t, you know.”
The conversation was getting dangerous, too dangerous. She felt as if she were in a fire about to erupt to volatile proportions. Their talk was way beyond normal bantering, she knew she should stop it, yet she didn’t want to. She couldn’t remember a man talking to her this way for a long time. If ever. Never had she felt more female, more feminine.
“And your hair,” he continued. “It’s loose and tumbled over the pillow, isn’t it? Tempting a man’s hand. You tempt a man’s hand, Charity. You’ll have me making pup tents all night under my sheet just thinking about you.”
She gasped, realizing exactly what he was talking about. “Jake!”
“It’s a statement of fact. Being right next to you like this, I think they’re going to be circus tents.”
“This is rapidly becoming an obscene phone call,” she said sternly.
“It’s been there and back again. Are you sure you’re not Prudence or Virtue in disguise?”
She chuckled. “It would serve you right if I were.”
“Well then, get off the line and let me speak to your sister. The one with the tempting name. Charity.”
“I don’t live up to it, remember?”
“I have a feeling you live up to it very well, after a man gets past your reserve.”
“And you think you can.”
“I’ll damn well try.”
“Good night, Jake,” she said softly, and just as softly hung up the receiver.
“Good night, Charity,” a faint voice said through the wall.
She laughed.
Jake knocked on Charity’s door with every intention of platonically escorting her and Mary to breakfast. He was proud of himself for not tearing the wall down the night before to get at her. Unfortunately, his quota of sleep fell far short that morning.
The door opened. Charity was wearing a lemon-yellow linen dress that outlined every curve without being provocative. Her hair was pulled back in a French braid, the style giving her eyes a catlike quality—mysterious yet bold. Soft cotton and softer talk of the night before came back in a rush.
“I’ll just get my briefcase and jacket,” she said.
“Fine.” His voice was hoarse. The urge was overwhelming to take up in a nonverbal way where their conversation had left off the previous night. He couldn’t remember wanting anyone more than he wanted Charity Brown.
He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Charity had turned away to get her things. Unthinking, he reached out and turned her back, pulling her against him. He kissed her, tasting the smoothness of her lipstick on her lips. He couldn’t stop himself; he didn’t even know how to try. Not with Charity. She was rapidly becoming an obsession.
He could feel her surprise, then her hesitation, but he was too hungry for her just to let her go. Holding her more tightly to him, he felt her breasts press into his chest and the length of her legs brush sensuously against his. He was careful not to let his hand drop below her waist, but he allowed himself the pleasure of caressing her back, feeling the feminine bone and flesh beneath the smoothness of the linen. Her mouth relaxed under his and opened, allowing his tongue to find hers. The kiss deepened, turning from dark sensuality to raw need. Her hands clung to his shoulders, and his heart quickened, sending his blood roaring through him.
Sanity returned with the lack of air in his lungs. Jake raised his head. Charity slowly fluttered open her eyelids. Her eyes were unfocused for an instant, then panic flared in them.
“I’m not apologizing,” Jake said, holding her when she would have pulled away. “I’ll be damned before I apologize for that.”
“You know how I feel about this,” she said.
“I know what you think is right. But you ought to start thinking about what else is right for you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And you think you’re it?”
“I think I could be,” he said, his tone assured, “if you’d only give this a chance.”
“Don’t we have a presentation to do?”
He kissed her swiftly, then let her go. “Go fix your lipstick.”
“Go fix yours.” She walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
Jake turned and looked at his face in the mirror on the closet door. Coral-red lipstick was smeared across his lips. Not bad, he thought as he took out his handkerchief and wiped it off. And how it got there was even better.
Charity emerged from the bathroom, lipstick in place. She gazed levelly at him and said, “This won’t happen again.”
He smiled. “I think it will. And I don’t think you can stop it.”
“I can stop it.”
Judging from her stiff stance, set jaw, and clenched fists, Jake thought, she was furious. His smile faded, but he didn’t intend to give up. “We’ll see. Shall we go and sell a contract?”
She slipped out the door without a word.
Jake followed her just as Mary was emerging from her room. If she thought anything of the two of them exiting the same room, it didn’t show on her face. But Charity’s shoulders stiffened even more. Jake knew she was feeling compromised and wished he could say something to make it all go away. Whatever was happening between them wouldn’t disappear that easily, though. And he didn’t want it to.
Charity relaxed some during breakfast, joining in the conversation with him and Mary. Jake was careful to keep every movement between him and Charity on a business level. For one thing, he recognized that she would respond to that, and for another, he didn’t want to give her the least feeling that her job was in any way dependent on how she reacted to him personally. That meant he had to keep the personal very private.
The managers of DGF Technologies were a little puzzled with the two women when the three of them arrived, especially when it became obvious Charity was doing the presentation. They were expecting, Jake knew, the man to do it. He had never held with the tradition of the boss doing the important things while the employees did the work. In Jake’s book, whoever did the work deserved the recognition.
As she stood at the end of the conference table, though, he noticed that Charity looked unsure, nervous. And she wouldn’t look him in the eye at all. The suppliers shifted expectantly, then restlessly. Jake tried to smile encouragingly at her, even as his impatience rose. What the hell was she waiting for?
“Ahh …” she began, staring down at her notes.
Mary set several of the spec sheets in front of her. “Here are the first requirements.”
Charity smiled gratefully and began to describe what was needed. As she talked, her delivery, her manner, became smoother and smoother, until at the end she had them practically panting to get in on the deal. Jake grinned at her, and she smiled back, a genuine smile. Maybe she wasn’t quite so angry about the kiss that morning. And maybe there was a monkey in the moon.
Jake didn’t know how to break completely through the polite barrier she’d erected between them. He’d pierced it on several occasions, but she always managed to close it back up. Nothing she’d said told him she’d had a terrible love affair that had left lingering wounds. Even her last one didn’t seem to particularly bother her, except that she’d made a mistake and recognized it as such. That showed maturity rather than pain.
He had to curb his impatience. That she was elusive made her more fascinating. He couldn’t help wondering what was under the next layer and how it would reveal itself. There was more to Charity than he’d ever imagined, and all of it pulled at his soul. Clearly, she liked the arm’s-distance flirting. And she’d l
iked their talk last night. If talking got him closer, then he’d talk. Like a true hunter, he was following all impulses now.
“… we’ll give an extra five percent discount on all materials and provide complete service and instruction for ten percent of the profits.”
The offer penetrated his musings, but Jake found the DGF vice president wasn’t talking to him. He was negotiating with Charity. DGF had made an assumption about her powerbase, and he wasn’t about to abuse it. He’d step in only if he had to.
She never glanced at him for approval, but negotiated with DGF until she got the best deal for Wayans. Hands were shaken all around, then Jake, Charity, and Mary left.
The moment they were outside in the parking lot and out of sight of their new partners, Charity breathed a sigh of relief. Jake squeezed her shoulders. “You did very well.”
“Better,” Mary said. “You got them in their pocketbooks.”
Charity shook her head. “I almost didn’t get anything. I was too nervous.”
“It was your first time,” Mary said. “Of course you were nervous.”
Jake gaped at Charity. “You told me you did presentations before.”
She glanced at him. “Actually, you told me I did. I wasn’t about to argue with the boss.”
And then she began to laugh. Uproariously. Mary joined her. Jake started to chuckle too. He couldn’t help himself.
He put his arm around both women because it gave him an excuse to put his arm around one. “Come on, ladies. Lunch is on the big dumb boss.”
“You are not getting any younger, dear. That biological clock is ticking away.”
Charity smiled at her mother as she poked at her filet of beef. Lord help her, but her mother was on a baby kick again. “Yes, Mom, I hear it.”
“That phrase always sounds like one is about to explode,” her mother said. “Still, I would see thee have children, Charity. Thee would be a wonderful mother.”
“Emmaline, you’re not in character anymore,” Charity’s father said. “And leave the child alone. It’s not her fault. If you would pay attention to news in your own century more often, you’d know the statistics are against her. She’s more likely to get hijacked than get married. Of course, if she’d married that graduate student of mine … What was his name?”
“Louis, dear,” Emmaline replied. “He teaches at Brown now.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Robert smiled. “I always found it humorous that he went from one Brown to another. Still, Charity, he was a very nice young man.”
“You thought I was too young, remember?” Charity said, while wondering why she hadn’t gone home with Jake and Mary.
For a number of reasons, she answered herself. But especially because of the kiss that morning. She could still taste his lips on hers. All day the sensation had lingered. Her own reaction, the pulsing desire that had risen so swiftly in her, had appalled her, upsetting her on the presentation. She’d had to push the memory aside all day.
Unfortunately, her father was on the marriage kick now. Combined with her mother, the conversation would be deadly with the way she was feeling.
“I said you were too young for Louis?” Robert looked surprised. “But he teaches at Brown. You could be teaching. I’ve never understood why you wanted to work in the private sector. More and more students are turning from the pleasure of knowledge to the pleasure of money. It’s very disappointing. But you know we’d love to have you come home, Charity. We miss you.”
She smiled ruefully. Her dad had never quite forgiven her for leaving school, but he was generous about it. “I miss you two also. New Jersey is only six hours away, and that’s where my work is. It’s not the end of the earth.”
“Thank goodness,” her mother said, then added to her father, “I suppose we can hope for a nice terrorist for Charity, Robert. Maybe she’ll stop being so fussy about men. You know, terrorists do have a number of similarities to privateers …”
“No wonder I moved to New Jersey,” Charity muttered as her parents launched into a conversation on the nuances of accrediting privateers four hundred years ago.
She frowned as she considered what her mother had said. Was she fussy about men? She had decided not to settle for immature, noncommitted men. Was that a mistake? She hoped not. Her luck was abominable when it came to nice men who cared for her. A nice man didn’t seem to be out there, which made having children complicated. She’d once considered having a child on her own, but she wasn’t prepared for all it entailed. Maybe she never would be. But why was it so hard to find a quiet man with whom she could share a quiet life?
A little perverse voice inside her suggested there was a possibility. No, she thought. Not that one. Definitely not that man. Jake Halford was not quiet. He was dangerous. The little voice added other adjectives, like “exciting” and “different.” And “sexy.”
Charity stiffened as she caught sight of a man entering the hotel dining room. He looked exactly like Jake. She blinked, but instead of the vision vanishing, it grinned and waved at her, then began to weave its way around the tables toward her.
“Hello,” the vision said as it neared her. Not only did it look like Jake, it sounded like him too. If it stripped down naked and began to chant around the candelabrum, she’d know it really was Jake. Her brain, unfortunately, told her this was no vision.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, staring up at him. She felt violated somehow, as if he’d invaded her privacy, even though it was a public restaurant.
“I decided to stay on and see some more people I know, then take a later flight back tonight.” He smiled innocently at her.
She narrowed her eyes. “Funny, you didn’t say anything before this.”
“Spur-of-the-moment. All for the good of the company, you know.”
“Dear, aren’t you going to introduce us?” her mother asked in the sweetest of voices.
“This is my boss, Jake Halford, who is supposed to be home in New Jersey,” she replied just as sweetly. “These are my parents, Jake, Robert and Emmaline Brown.”
“Won’t you join us?” Emmaline said, a particular gleam in her eye that said “Nosy mother’s interest on red alert.”
“Thank you.” Jake took the fourth seat at the table as Charity clamped her lips shut on any protest. Not that a protest would do any good. Her mother was as determined as Jake. One she couldn’t cure, but the other would find himself in “detox” as soon as they got out of there. Dangerous and different, exciting and sexy, popped into her mind again, but she pushed the notions aside.
“You should be very proud of your daughter,” Jake said. “She’s putting together a deal that’s worth millions of dollars. It’s going to save our company.”
“Really?” Both her parents turned to look at her as if she’d grown two extra heads.
Charity smiled at them. “That’s why I came to Boston, to see some people about it. I told you when I called, remember?” The deal didn’t have any meaning for her parents, but they took notice that it clearly did for Jake. She could almost forgive him for showing up. Almost. But she could still taste his kiss.
“That’s wonderful,” Emmaline said, then she frowned in puzzlement.
Charity swallowed a laugh. Anything about computers could sink only so far with her mother before it hit bedrock. And her father was looking dubiously at Jake, thank goodness. The last thing she wanted was parental approval of Jake. Maybe she ought to tell her parents about his propensity for naked fire-dancing. She could just hear her mother asking how he kept from getting certain parts burned.
She opened her mouth …
“I understand that you teach early-American history, sir,” Jake said to her father before she could get her words out. “And you, ma’am, are at Olde Plimoth. I follow the more ancient philosophies also. I’m a student of Bly’s.”
“Iron John?” Robert asked, perking up. “The men’s movement?”
“What’s an Iron John?” Emmaline asked.
�
�A bathroom with a very cold seat?” Charity suggested.
Jake chuckled, while her father, with less humor, sputtered a protest at her. Jake said to her mother, “It’s a book written by a poet named Robert Bly, Mrs. Brown. Bly explains the men’s movement through a little-known Grimms fairy tale called ‘Iron John.’ ”
“It’s Emmaline, please. And I know that tale. But how does he weave this men’s movement into the fairy tale?”
Jake launched into an explanation of a wild man, Iron John, who lived in a wood and is captured, then set free by a king’s son. John teaches the prince how to be a man. Robert, who evidently knew the work, chimed in with asides regarding men having lost their way from their true selves. Emmaline debated specifics, but Jake had been right. The basic philosophy of men’s jobs differing from women’s appealed to her because of her own work in Olde Plimoth.
Charity sat back with a sigh of resignation and finished her dinner. Her parents clearly liked Jake. A lot.
She couldn’t think of anything worse than that.
Five
“How mad are you?” Jake asked as they settled in their seats on the last shuttle returning to Philadelphia.
“You were a big hit with my parents,” Charity said politely.
“That mad, eh?”
“That mad.”
“I did have to stay on,” he said. “To drum up more business for Wayans. I’m sorry I didn’t realize the advantage of doing so before the presentation. Now, you’re not going to yell at me for that.” He paused. “Are you?”
She smiled a tiny tolerant smile. “No. I think it’s wonderful that you’re so conscientious. Wayans is lucky to have you.”
“Thanks. How long do I have to wear the hair shirt you’ve got me in?”
“Forever. It fits right in with your Hairy John.”
“That’s Iron John.”
“The fairy tale about men. Yes, I remember.”
Jake frowned. Something in the way she said that bothered him. Still, she would be skeptical. She was a woman and had never experienced a man’s frustrations. That was only fair. Men had trouble with women’s frustrations. Like now. He decided to change the subject altogether. “Your parents don’t appreciate you, do they?”