Sliding Into Home

by Arlene Hittle

  “Never mind.”

  “No. I’d like to know.”

  She hopped off the elliptical. “You’re more than just an athlete.”

  “I told you that the night we met.” He grinned. “College degree, remember?”

  She gave him a blank look. “You’ve already put some real thought into the campaign.”

  “Of course.” He punched the treadmill’s stop button and rode it out until the belt ground to a halt. Then he gave Jenn another thorough checking out, from head to toe. Her shirt had gone from lavender to dark purple under her breasts, where sweat soaked the material. She worked out as hard as he did. He liked that. “I never do anything by halves.”

  ****

  Greg’s intense inspection sparked Jenn’s desire. Her nipples tightened. She took a too-shaky breath and turned around, away from the bright blue eyes that undressed her effortlessly.

  Well, why not? He’s seen Jess in next to nothing.

  For the first time in her life, she cursed her sister’s choice of second job. If he’d seen Jess strutting around the stage, she had no hope of comparing.

  Duh. Identical twin?

  But Jess owned their shared curves. Jenn, on the other hand, spent most of her time feeling as if she merely rented them.

  She coughed, as much to hide her reaction as to distract him from his study. “I could really use a drink.”

  Greg bolted across the gym floor, returning with two bottles of water from a fridge she hadn’t noticed until now. He handed one to her.

  She cracked the bottle open and tipped it to him. “This is a great workout room. You thought of everything.”

  He shook his head. “Dad did. He wants to make sure I stay in shape during the offseason. Of course, he uses it too—every morning at five.”

  Jenn squinted at him, trying to read his expression. “You work here in the offseason?”

  “As little as possible, usually.”

  A day ago, she might have believed that. Now, she didn’t know what to believe. His name was on an office door, for God’s sake. Besides, a lazy, spoiled, rich playboy wouldn’t have such an easy time coming up with an idea like “empowering disadvantaged youths”. Would he? “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  He shrugged. “Think what you will.”

  Rather the way he did, assuming she was Jade. She hid a smile. “I think you’re a harder worker than you pretend. More compassionate, too.”

  “Don’t fool yourself, Jenn.” His expression hardened. “I work hard but play harder.”

  “Okay.” She wasn’t about to touch that one. “Then let’s get back to this idea of yours.”

  “The one you hate?” He took a slug from his bottle of water and sat on an empty weight bench.

  “I don’t hate it. It just took me by surprise is all.”

  “Surprise often moves you to tears, does it?”

  She sipped her water, too. No way would she admit his thoughtfulness had touched her. “More often than it should.”

  “Sure.”

  She ignored the skepticism rolling off him and perched on the edge of a Nautilus machine. “Focusing attention on the real superpowers that give someone the advantage is good. But it’s a kids’ party. To make it more fun, why not have some costumed superheroes running around, mingling with the kids and talking up the traits we decide to promote?”

  “Fantastic idea!” Greg shot off the bench, then pulled her to her feet and wrapped her in another hug. “You and I make a good team.”

  “Um—” The protest died on her lips when her nerve endings started singing the Hallelujah Chorus. Holy hell, it felt good to be in his arms. He thought so, too, judging by what nudged her belly.

  She should have been embarrassed. Should have put an immegiate stop to it. But the wonder and desire in his bright blue eyes blinded her to the inappropriateness of letting the guy who was effectively her boss take such liberties. Breathless, she answered. “Yeah. We do.”

  He bent his head. Closer, closer. Another inch or two and their lips would be touching. Jenn caught her breath and closed her eyes, waiting for it. There. Greg’s lips settled over hers, soft and sweet. His tongue probed the seam of her lips until she opened up to let him in.

  The minute she did, his tentative exploration disappeared. He tightened one arm around her waist and cupped the back of her head with the other, deepening the kiss. His tongue plundered her mouth, stealing her breath, and with it, her sanity. She twined her arms around his neck and slid her fingers through the hair at his nape.

  His hand trailed down her back to her butt again and he growled. “More.”

  Behind them, a throat cleared. “No,Son. I think that’s quite enough.”

  ****

  The sound of his father’s voice sliced through the electric connection he shared with Jenn. They sprang apart like two magnets of the same polarity.

  “Dad! You’re here late.”

  His father cleared his throat. “Yes, well. I skipped the gym this morning, so I thought I’d get my workout in now. Good thing, too. I got here just in time.”

  “Or ten minutes too soon,” Jenn muttered from his side.

  Ten? She certainly didn’t hold a high opinion of him.

  “Try thirty,” he muttered back, pleased when the roses in her cheeks bloomed brighter.

  “Two, can I have a word with you?” His father jerked a thumb toward the locker room. “In there.”

  Jenn scrambled toward the door. “Don’t leave for me. I’ll just go back up to the office.”

  She disappeared through the doorway faster than a Whack-a-Mole. After the door whooshed shut on her softly swaying hips, Greg glowered at Big Jake. “You scared her.”

  His father unpursed his lips. “I think you did that all on your own, Greg.”

  “I did not.”

  “Two, you can’t take advantage of your assistant.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing, Dad.”

  “I wish I believed that, Son.” His father sighed. “But that’s exactly what you said about the intern.”

  “Four years ago. I was fresh out of college myself. Just twenty-two. And she was twenty.” He rubbed his temples in an attempt to blot the shame accompanying that mess. Dad had paid the girl fifty thousand dollars to leave quietly and keep her mouth shut. “Why’d you have to bring up that debacle?”

  He waved dismissively. “I know, I know. Water under the bridge. Sowing wild oats. You’re old enough to know better now.”

  “Exactly.”

  His father sighed again, even heavier than before. “Maybe I should give Jenn something to do in my office. Loan you Ellen for the campaign.”

  “No way! You know I love Ellen like a grandmother, but Jenn and I are on the same wavelength. We’ve already come up with a great theme.”

  “I can’t imagine you’ve had much time to work with your tongue down her throat.”

  “Dad!”

  His father watched him expectantly. “Well, what is it?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d just as soon not tell you yet. I want it to be a surprise.”

  “Because you’ve got nothing.”

  “No, Dad.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “You put me in charge. Now trust me to do the job you gave me.”

  “I’d have a lot more faith in you if you weren’t making time with your assistant.”

  He nodded. “Duly noted.”

  Before his father could criticize him again, Greg stalked out of the gym. He paced in front of the elevator until the doors opened and then rode in silence to the top floor. Jenn sat at her desk, her back ramrod straight, and didn’t acknowledge him.

  Great. Maybe he had read her all wrong. Maybe she didn’t want him as much as he wanted her.

  Nah. A woman who didn’t want him wouldn’t have kissed him like…like she’d been in the hot desert sun for hours and he was a tall, ice-cold glass of water.

  He noticed the couch was now decked out with green throw pillows—and a green-and-white-
striped rug covered the gray carpet. “You redecorated.”

  Shit. That sounded inane.

  “Not really. But since you gave me enough money to buy London Bridge, I picked up a few extras.”

  He scanned the room again and saw the coffee maker. “Nice.”

  “Thanks. It was on sale.”

  She still wasn’t looking at him. Instead she doodled on a legal pad.

  “Jenn, I’m—”

  “So help me, if you apologize for kissing me, I’ll stab you with the scissors that came with my new desk set.”

  He chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Good.”

  Best leave it there for now. He made himself a cup of coffee and carried it into his office. On his desk were boxes of pens and a stack of calendars, including a baseball-themed page-a-day calendar, a leather-bound planner and an oversized desk blotter.

  Jenn shopped like she kissed—enthusiastically and wholeheartedly.

  He started to smile. Then he saw a twenty, two fives and thirty-three cents in coin on the other side of the calendars. His teeth ground together.

  A tap on the door alerted him to her presence. “I thought I told you to keep the change.”

  “You did. I didn’t feel it was appropriate.”

  “But kissing me was?”

  Her cheeks were pink. “I didn’t say that.”

  He tipped his head back to watch her, waiting for her to continue.

  “My street clothes are still downstairs in the gym.”

  “Yep.”

  “I find it necessary to wear this home.” She waved her hand to indicate the workout gear.

  “Okay.”

  “But I’ll launder it and bring it back.”

  He sighed. “Stop being stubborn, Jenn. Just keep the clothes.”

  “I can’t. It’s not—”

  “Appropriate. I know.” He raked a hand through his hair. “What do you think’ll happen to them if you give them back to me?”

  “Save them for someone who’s comfortable in clothes that cost more than a weeklong vacation.”

  Jenn was way too hung up on money—and not in the “I love to spend yours” way. “Why don’t you store them here? Use ’em when we hit the gym on the clock.”

  Surprise flashed across her delicate features. “Is that something we’ll be doing often?”

  “I think better while I’m doing something physical.” The exertion flipped a switch, and he was struck by ideas that made his non-workout plans look like bad imposters of brilliant ideas. “Besides, I have to stay in shape for spring training.”

  “Okay then. I’ll keep this stuff here.” Her expression was resigned. “But I won’t enjoy wearing it.”

  Greg bit his cheek to keep from laughing. She might be the only female alive who didn’t covet expensive workout gear from that place. Steph had sure sighed over the company’s catalog often enough. And when he’d gotten her birthday gift there, she’d been—ah—extremely grateful.

  Surely you weren’t expecting— No, no. He wasn’t. He knew better, even if the thought of taking Jenn to bed intrigued him. And the memory of the kiss they’d just shared had him longing for more. It’d be so easy to pull her into his office, lock the door and kiss her until they both forgot where they were.

  He shut down that line of thought. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Good.” She hesitated.

  “What?”

  She came all the way into the room, her intense green gaze full of curiosity. She stopped a few feet from his desk, closer but still out of reach. “It’s probably none of my business, but did your father call you Two?”

  Hell. She sure knew how to kill the mood. “Yep.”

  “Mind if I ask why?”

  He kept the explanation short. “I’m Jacob Gregory Bartlesby the Second, remember?”

  “Oh.” More silence. Her tongue darted over her bottom lip. “You don’t like it much, do you?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Then why do you let him do it?”

  Good question. “Because he’s my father. He’s called me that for longer than I can remember.”

  And because he’s dying.

  Greg ignored the reminder and flashed Jenn a smile. “Besides, he tries to call me Greg once in a while. At his age, that’s about the best I can hope for.”

  “He’s what? In his mid-forties?”

  Wow. She was good. “Forty-seven.”

  “Certainly not old enough to have memory problems.” Jenn closed the remaining gap between them and put her hand on his forearm. “Tell him how you feel.”

  Strangely, the light pressure from her fingers was more intimate than the kiss. Unsure whether to savor the closeness or run away screaming, he shut his eyes. Took several deep breaths. Let her hand warm his flesh, her concern seep into his skin. He’d dated Stephanie for nearly a year, and she’d never been this in tune with him.

  To be fair, Steph had only met his father once, for less than thirty minutes. He dated her during the season, when he kept as much distance as possible between himself and Jake Bartlesby. She’d left him before the playoffs, thrown him over for some guy at her office.

  But he doubted it would have made a difference. Jenn somehow knew him intimately—without having seen him naked.

  The realization should have scared him. Somehow, it didn’t.

  He opened his eyes and met her slightly unfocused gaze. “Maybe I should.”

  She snapped back to attention, pulling her hand away. “Of course you should.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing.” She curled her fingers around his hand. “Greg, your father can’t change until he knows how small it makes you feel.”

  Chapter Six

  “Jess, I swear he was about to start crying.”

  Jenn sat in a corner booth at an all-night diner with her twin, rehashing parts of her day. Jess had just gotten off a shift at the strip club, and—as usual—her car refused to start. For once, Jenn hadn’t minded the two-thirty phone call. She wasn’t able to sleep anyway, and picking up her sister gave her a chance to talk through the insomnia-inducing confusion.

  Her sister sipped a strawberry milkshake. “No wonder, Jenn. You can’t go straight for the guy’s jugular like that.”

  “I wasn’t aware that’s what I was doing.”

  “You’ve known the man for all of two days, and you’re already psychoanalyzing him.” Jess rolled her eyes. “Guys don’t want someone they’ve just met in their head. Bed, yes. Head, not so much.”

  “It’s so obvious, Jess.” She picked up a French fry from Jess’ plate, examined it and put it back down. Too crispy. “When Greg’s in the same room with his father, his whole body tenses up and he acts more like a sullen teenager than a grown man.”

  “Stop fingering my fries.” Her sister frowned and pulled the plate closer to her side of the table. Through a mouthful of burger, she continued. “It’s not your job to fix their family dynamic. In fact, you shouldn’t be there at all. What about your real job?”

  Good question. With no court appearances, it had been easy enough to arrange a day off. But after just one day, she could tell Greg was a demanding boss—at least as exacting as Mr. Stull. Maybe more so. He was a heck of a lot better looking, too. But his sex appeal wasn’t the main reason her second job beckoned. Helping plan a campaign that could help kids change their lives was a heck of a lot more worthwhile than writing legal briefs or combing through contracts and financial reports.

  “Let me sleep on that.”

  A plan began to coalesce through her head as Jess continued to demolish her after-work snack. Dancing always made her sister ravenous—and allowed her to eat like a sumo wrestler. Sometimes Jenn envied her that.

  At six the next morning, she had the Bartlesby Foundation gym door staked out, waiting for Jake Bartlesby to emerge. He did, at three minutes after, dressed for work in a dark suit and red tie. She fell into step beside him.

  His
steps faltered. He seemed to choose his words carefully. “Good morning, Ms. Simpson. I hope my son hasn’t offended you.”

  “What?” She rushed to assure him, even as she wondered why it made him so nervous. “No. I have a bit of a problem, though. And I was hoping you could help me with it.”

  Jake sighed. “How much?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How much will it cost?”

  He thought she wanted money? What was with this family that they thought throwing money around was the answer to everything? She swallowed, but her voice still came out in a whisper. “Nothing.”

  “What?”

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t need money, Jake.”

  “No cash?” Jake’s expression switched from dumbfounded to suspicious. “What is it you want, then?”

  “This job is going to take more time than I expected—and you’re paying me so well that I want to give it my all.”

  His eyes didn’t leave her face as his finger stabbed the elevator “up” button. “You have my attention. Keep talking.”

  “You know my boss.”

  He smiled. “Greg and I have a passing acquaintance, yes.”

  “Not that boss.” She smiled back, enjoying the way he was relaxed enough to joke again. “I was referring to Mr. Stull at the law firm.”

  “Ah.” He nodded and stepped onto the elevator. She followed. As the doors slid shut, he continued. “Steve and I go way back. He helped me set up the Foundation.”

  “Excellent.” She hadn’t counted on that, but if Mr. Stull worked with the Bartlesby Foundation, maybe he’d be more likely to accept her proposal. “I was hoping you’d talk to him, endorse my plan to take a three-month leave of absence from the firm to devote my time here, with you and Greg.”

  “That’s a great idea, Jenn.” Now his smile rivaled one of Greg’s. “Leave it to me. By the time I’m done with Steve, he’ll think the leave was his idea and offer you a bonus for a job well done.”

  Jake’s excitement was contagious, but Jenn reined herself in. “Let’s not get carried away. I just want to make sure I have a job after the New Year.”

  “You will, my dear.” Jake winked. “Don’t worry about that.”