by Liz Crowe
He sensed she was ready. But at the same time, something about her eluded him. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Had kick ass sales talent. Knew every damn body in town. Not unlike himself, actually. Maybe not a great mix. But screw it. He wanted her. And he’d never been one to deny himself when it came to women.
“Yeah, it was fun. But I really gotta get going,” he said into her hair. He prided himself on being a gentlemen, even during awkward morning-afters. Plus her hand felt pretty damn good on the hard-on he now sported, after his innocuous, real-estate conversation with Sara. “Oh, well, if you insist.”
He pressed her up against the doorjamb. As she wrapped herself around him, Jack let his body lead. The horny part of his brain smothered the part that wanted to remind him he was about to turn forty, unmarried and unattached, and a getting bored with his current lifestyle.
After the near-miss marital fiasco he’d endured out of law school, he’d made a solemn vow: fuck first, questions later. It had worked fairly well. He’d built a reputation, made his first million five years ago without a family to support, and had a virtual black book that was the envy of all his male colleagues. He knew as many people as Sara did.
Sara.
Shit.
He sighed and picked the woman up, dropped her onto his bed and proceeded to bring her to screeching orgasm with his lips and tongue before donning a condom and plowing into her body. He shut his eyes at the last moment as his climax roared up from the base of his spine. He hoped he didn’t call out Sara’s name because hers was the face he saw beneath him as he came.
Chapter Two
Sara didn’t look up as she barreled around the corner of the front sales desk, intent on her mission toward the printer while simultaneously reading an email on her phone. It was a typical real estate day. A combination of putting out fires, cursing, and celebrating victories. A total buzz. And one she’d found herself thriving on. A strong grip on her arm kept her from running into a wall of blue-suited torso planted smack in the middle of the front office.
When she lifted her gaze, she met the deep blue one that populated her most fevered fantasies lately. The look he shot her – a little curious, somewhat questioning, yet intense – made her tingle from her scalp to her toes. To her knowledge, Jack Gordon had never even darkened the door of the downtown office before today. If he had, she’d either been gone or not on his female-radar enough for him to seek her out.
Could he sense she was having sex dreams about him? That she’d wake up and have to rub one out—the only way she’d ever achieved actual orgasm in her whole stupid life. He had used his well-documented charisma and stark, Black-Irish good looks to their full effect through the years. He was a millionaire at least twice over thanks to them, but had never entered her orbit until now. Sara’s mind now reeled with tales of female conquests in real estate offices, empty houses and various semi-public places. She knew of at least four fellow agents and one title company closer who’d been left miserable and brokenhearted in his wake.
In short, the dude was a legend—as a lover, of course, but even more as an emotional connection avoider. Not something she wanted, needed, or had sought out.
And yet, here he was, his long fingers wrapped around her left biceps. She glanced down at his hand, then up at his face. It was imperfect. His nose was definitely crooked, as if it had been broken at least once. His smile was lopsided. He had a visible scar right above his left eyebrow.
She found herself fixating on that crooked smile and his full lips. When he spoke, she blinked fast, absorbing the voice that had become so familiar to her in the past week thanks to his weird insistence on calling her at least once a day to talk. “About business,” he insisted. But she’d gotten to where she anticipated the sight of his number on her screen. The compelling sound of his deep voice in her ear.
“Whoa, hang on! Don’t go so fast. You’re gonna hurt somebody.” Sparks ignited deep in her gut at the sound of his voice. His eyes widened, then narrowed, as if sensing her reaction. She made a show of jerking her arm out of his clutches and shouldering her way past him, needing to get on with her day sans a Jack-shaped interruption.
“Sell that Lansdowne house yet, big boy?” She turned to face him as she backed away, eager to get some distance between them before she embarrassed herself. Summoning every ounce of willpower at her disposal, she endeavored not to stare at him as he leaned against the counter in his expensive dark suit, French-cuffed shirt, and perfectly matched tie. Her brain did its little song-and-dance routine, again reminding her that he was bad – very bad – and her own recent, unfounded obsession with him had to stop.
He could help you, one side of her brain kept yammering at her. He’s the one man who could—
She stamped her foot without realizing she was doing it. But she had to clear her mind of this…thing stupid, ridiculous obsession.
“Hell no I haven’t and you know it.”
“So why are you here, if not to aggravate me?” She walked around behind the desk to fight with the printer. Anything but meet his eyes again.
The sales secretary appeared at her side in a flash. Sara frowned at the simpering look on the young woman’s face as she stared at the man-vision before her.
“Hey, Jack.”
The girl was practically lying on the counter to get his attention. Of course, he was a sight worth seeing. His thick, coal-black hair was windblown, begging her for fingers. She curled them into fists, willing herself to get a damn grip.
“What?” He dragged his gaze from Sara. “Oh, hey, babe, how are ya?”
At that moment, Sara knew he had fucked her.
Incredible. He doesn’t even remember her name. Sara, you have to avoid this guy like the plague. His potential as a lover isn’t worth the risk.
Sara’s sales manager chose that moment to emerge from her office. “Jack, to what do we owe this distinct and, no doubt, well-planned honor?” Pam crossed her arms, looking pointedly over at Sara then back at him.
“Pamela, good to see you, too.” Jack faced her, one elbow leaning on the counter. “I was just down the street in a meeting with architects. We’re doing that kick-ass renovation over on Washington – mixed-use – retail and condos. Should be done in about ten months or so.” He trailed off and looked straight back at Sara, who lowered her eyes.
Sara was not about to fall into this guy’s trap. She had neither excuse nor reason to be infatuated with him. Well, maybe she did. But she’d lived this long, and pretty damn well, without a man-induced orgasm. Anyway, she needed to focus on Adam’s closing. And on Adam. And their potential relationship.
Screw Jack.
Right.
Bad choice of words.
She breezed by him, determined to get back to her desk and her mind refocused on her job.
“Bye Sara,” he hollered at her retreating form. “Tell Adam I said ‘hey.’”
That last comment made her turn. He had one eyebrow raised, and was still leaning on the counter –posing like some kind of GQ ad. His crooked smile seemed designed to both aggravate and intrigue her. She ground her teeth and whirled away from him, raising her hand in a mock salute good-bye.
Jack eased his classic Corvette into the late-afternoon downtown Ann Arbor traffic, cranking down his window to enjoy the near-perfect, waning summer day. Even as he cursed whatever weak compulsion had led him into Sara’s office. The strange impulses he’d fought for weeks since encountering her at that condo were annoying in the extreme. He’d done everything he could to quell his need to see her, to touch her again, just to make sure he hadn’t imagined that intriguing spark that had passed between them strange, first day.
It had recurred, when he’d grabbed her arm to keep her from plowing into him. As he suspected it would. And he wanted more.
Why? He had no idea. Other than the thrill of the chase. He had money in the bank, a woman in his bed. And total frustration rustling around in his brain. The blonde client had provided some distraction from his
alarming obsession with Sara but had proven to be a real handful. She wanted his constant attention, sent him texts all day long, and had seemingly taken a vow to drain every ounce of his sexual energy. He always considered that a deep well, but she was doing all she could to deplete it.
A couple of times she’d even pleaded with him to forgo the condom. The second time she’d asked, he’d cut her off, furious with her for even considering it, and bolted from her place without consummating, his gut aching with something more than simple unrequited lust.
The phone buzzed on the seat next to him. He sighed.
Back to work.
But his thoughts kept drifting in a Sara Thornton direction. This infatuation or whatever he had buzzing around in his brain was going to drive him nuts him if he didn’t do something. Her perfume ghosted through his senses. He bit back a groan of frustration while pressing the phone icon on the steering wheel, prepared to handle whatever shit storm had developed in the last half of his day.
Idly wondering if she realized she was dating a man engaged to be married, he made a mental note to stay on top of how that unfolded. She might need a shoulder, and he planned to position himself correctly to provide one. You know, a shoulder, or whatever else she might need from him.
Sara dressed in her favorite suit the morning of Adam’s closing. His purchase had been smooth – a real anomaly in today’s real estate market. Since he was a mortgage broker, the loan portion had been seamless. Despite her pique at his recent disappearing act, Sara looked forward to making up with a bottle of wine in his new expensive space.
What had started as a hot hook-up in the very condo Adam was closing on had led to an intense month of dates, dinners, flowers delivered to her office – the very sort of thing that many nearing-thirty-year-old women would have given a designer shoe allowance to have. Sara had enjoyed it and had given in briefly to fantasies of big weddings and suburban McMansions.
The fact that Jack-fucking-Gordon, the client stealer, had inserted himself into her dreams and fantasies had been an annoying distraction to her determination to make this thing work with Adam. He kept trying to please her in bed, too, to his credit. Poor guy had no real idea what an Oscar-level acting job she’d been doing to prove he was good at it. She’d caught herself more than once picturing Jack’s bright blue gaze over hers, imagining his hands on her flesh, all while she was supposed to be making love with Adam. Those times she’d come as close as ever to release. Only to have it retreat, laughing at her frustration.
Staring at herself intently in the hallway mirror of her small condo, Sara attempted to ignore the little voice that kept reminding her that Adam was not what she wanted. Not at all. But he’d made up for it with his wildly romantic gestures – at least until recently.
She shrugged off the looming doomsday sensations.
Beggars can’t be choosers. Adam is a great guy and would make a very lovely spouse who would no doubt coach Little League and do all the shit your own dad never did.
Sara took a deep breath and tried to get her mind to pinpoint what was truly bugging her as she threw the car into reverse as she ran through the reasons she had to avoid a man like Jack and hold onto one like Adam. The conversation she’d initiated with one of the agents who’d known him for ten years ran through her brain on a repeat loop.
“Jack Gordon? What d’you want to know? How many millions he’s made or how many women he’s fucked?”
The man could not possibly be interested in her. No way. Enough to randomly stop by her office? Ridiculous.
The gossip she now got on a regular basis backed up his rep as a cocky, womanizing jerk and then some. The mature, good girl in her felt he was best left to the likes of her secretary or wide-eyed vacuous clients, like the one he’d stolen. Sara knew she was strong enough to resist Jack, but something made her want to be around him, and that compulsion irritated the shit out of her. Especially since she knew exactly why she wanted to be around him. What her body flat out wanted –needed?—from him.
The wind ruffled her hair and cleared her muddled brain. Feeling stronger and more in control every minute, she parked in the title company’s lot and gave herself a pep talk.
Adam must be reacting like many men did when they started to feel something more than simple lust for a woman. Yes – that had to be it. He had been trying awfully hard this week to get back in touch with her. So of course she’d ignored him, making him work for it.
Maybe she should settle down. Her mother, father, and brother harped on it enough. She liked Adam and wanted her family to be happy with her. However, at the same time she enjoyed her independence. She’d spent enough of her life’s energy trying to find people to love her unconditionally. But still…she needed something else. Something hovered ever closer in the past few weeks, but right out of her reach.
As Sara breezed into the Arbor Title office where Adam’s deal was closing, she greeted the receptionist and the other Realtors gathered in the lobby, all waiting for their own transactions to commence. As she took in their strange looks and exchanged glances, subtle misgivings began stirring in her brain. Kim, the closing officer, ran up to her, a stack of legal documents clutched in her arms and a stressed look on her normally calm face. Kim never got rattled, no matter how difficult a transaction. So…something was most definitely up.
“Oh, hey, Sara, um, your, uh, client is here already.”
“OK, well, let’s get going then.” Sara looked at her, trying to figure out what was wigging out the unflappable woman. “What room?” she asked, trying to get Kim to focus.
“Oh, well, down here.” The woman motioned, indicating the second room.
Sara started to move in that direction, but Kim put her hand on her arm.
“Sara, you should know…” she began, just as Adam walked out of the door.
“Hi, Sara.” He didn’t move from the doorway. “I tried to call you to let you know I’d moved the time up an hour – I had a last-minute conflict, so…”
Sara stared at him, absorbing what he was saying – her closing had happened without her there.
“Oh, well, gee, Adam, I could have used this hour for something else, I guess.”
He moved towards her, and she had the distinct feeling he wanted to head her off, to keep her from entering the closing room. Her temper flared as she walked past him, eluding the hand he held out. Inside the doorway, Sara got a glimpse of a gorgeous young woman seated at the large table. She looked up at Sara and smiled.
“Oh, hullo, you must be Sara,” she said with a charming English accent. She stood and stuck out her hand. “Adam has told me so much about you. Thanks for your help with all of this. I’ve been away a month getting my mum sorted out. She’s been ill, so…” The woman kept her hand out, waiting for Sara to take it.
Sara stayed frozen to the spot but recovered enough to give her hand a quick squeeze. She blinked while her brain focused on an enormous diamond ring on the other woman’s left hand. The room dimmed around her. Sara had to remind herself to take a breath. Kim grabbed her hand and slid a chair under her collapsing body.
“I’m Lou – Louise, actually, but no one calls me that. I’m so looking forward to getting all settled here. I’ll be at the U, finishing my residency.” She babbled on, completely unaware that Sara had come close to passing out from shock while the memories of what she had been doing with Lou’s fiancé for the past month ran, montage style, through her head.
Adam stood outside the door with one hand on the jamb, the other on his waist, his head bowed as if praying. Lou gathered up her designer purse and scarf and walked past Sara to join him. Kim came back in, bearing a bottle of water. When Sara realized why the other agents in the lobby had been staring at her, the harsh reality of the whole mess hit her right between the eyes. Kim turned to face the couple.
“Well, OK, then, thanks, guys, and congratulations.” Sara watched her glare at Adam who wouldn’t meet her eyes. Lou stuck a hand out again since Kim didn’t seem inc
lined to do so first.
“No, thank you, and you, too, Sara.” She leaned around Kim who kept Sara blocked from view.
Sara stood up knowing what she had to do. She fixed her professional smile in place and shook Lou’s hand before reaching out for Adam’s. She stared at him – her own face neutral while her brain spun its endless loop of that first encounter, when she’d gone against everything rational, let go of her long-developed reserve, and let this man try to satisfy her in an empty condo.
Livid, mortified, and facing the hard reality that once again she’d managed to screw up her potential love life in front of this entire goddamned office, she watched them depart on their way out the door to their new life together – in the condo she’d sold him, and had had wholly unsatisfactory sex with him in for a solid month.
Kim tried to reach for her but Sara held up her hand to fend her off as she willed the tears back. It was her own stupid fault. She knew she shouldn’t have gotten involved with him, but had anyway in her typical, fuck-logic-let’s-try-to-have-some-fun sort of way. The extreme irony—that the man had screwed her plenty but she’d not achieved orgasm once—didn’t escape her. She should be grateful for Lou. Thankful she’d reappeared from Jolly Olde England and saved her from her own delusions of suburban grandeur.
She sighed and walked out the door, not speaking to anyone.
A hot wind dried the tears forming in her eyes. She resolved to stop her selfish behavior, get her focus back where it belonged before Adam had interrupted her. She didn’t need a man. She knew that – had known that – but she’d let her stupid, misguided need to find physical satisfaction with one cloud her judgement.