by B. Cranford
She started to apologize, but Declan was too fast. “Touché. There was no way I wasn’t coming tonight.”
Jade sputtered a little at the unintentional innuendo from Declan, earning a laugh from him. “Not what I meant, Freckles.”
“So . . .” Jade trailed off, still unsure about how to get the conversation, and this date, moving. She’d agreed to one night with him, assuming that would be all she needed to reconfirm what she already knew—that he was a jackass.
Except he hadn’t acted like a jackass all night. All week. For months now, if she was admitting things to herself that were completely forbidden.
And you didn’t agree to this date because you want to prove he was what you called him, her brain supplied. You want in his pants as much as he wants in yours.
“So,” he replied with a nod, as if encouraging her to continue.
“What’s your favorite color?” Oh. My. God. You didn’t. Jade inwardly cringed at the cliché getting-to-know-you question. Why didn’t you just ask him what his favorite movie was? Or song. Food. Place to vacation.
Here’s one of those Facebook chain-letters. Here are my answers. There’s a blank copy in the comments.
“Right now, pink.”
Jade looked abashed. Almost like she couldn’t believe she’d asked him his favorite color, but he liked it. That question was so generic, so bland that it told him something important.
She was nervous.
And if she was nervous, that meant she was invested in this date. She’d agreed to one night and his plan to make it the best night of her life—one that hopefully included happy endings for them both. His plan relied on her being open to the experience.
She could have been blasé. She could have not engaged and sat sullenly through their meal before dumping him for an Uber driver and a pair of slinky pajamas.
Or no pajamas.
Great, now he was thinking of her sleeping naked, while she still looked chagrined at her question. Wanting to put her at ease, he decided on a course of action. “How about a game of Twenty Questions?” He waited for her to make eye contact, watching as first confusion and then awareness shot through her hazel eyes. “I know people think that sort of stuff is—” He broke off, searching for a word that didn’t make her feel bad about her color question.
“Cliché?” she supplied.
He didn’t acknowledge her offered word but for a slight nod, and plowed on. “Anyway, we know each other kind of, but those little things? I don’t know what you like to do on weekends. What you watch on TV. Who your favorite fictional panda is.”
“Oh, well, that last one is easy.” She smiled.
“Patrick.” They said it at the same time, sharing a laugh. Patrick the Panda was Brighton’s creation, her pride and joy. And, of course, the reason she was currently out of town.
“Right, you started, so my turn.” Declan waited for Jade’s quiet “yes” before asking the first question—or mirrored hers, anyway. “Favorite color.”
“Yellow, actually.” She slid one foot out from under the table and held it up slightly for Declan’s perusal. He made sure he gave that enticing limb an appreciative glance, enjoying again the fact she was wearing those same sunny heels from their office tryst. “I know most people would assume pink because—” She lowered her foot back to the floor and held up a few strands of hair instead. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“Shit. Um, The Big Lebowski? Maybe?”
“I’d have thought you’d pick a big sports movie.”
“Nah, I can’t stand sport movies as a rule. I tend to wanna pick ‘em apart.” And he did. Every mistake, assumption or portrayal of a sleazy, in-it-for-his-own-good agent Declan saw made his jaw clench. Yeah, the industry—like any industry—had its share of shady characters, but he prided himself on his honesty. His integrity. His commitment to being the best for his athletes, not because of them. “Favorite song?”
“Songbird.” A content expression took hold of Jade’s face, and Declan thought she’d never looked prettier. He opened his mouth to ask her to elaborate, but she surprised him by doing it herself. “My mama used to sing it to me when I was little. Fleetwood Mac was—is—her favorite band. I think of her every time I hear it and . . . I feel safe.”
“Freckles,” he started, watching Jade tilt her head away as if to hide from the vulnerable moment.
He didn’t get a chance to comfort her, or ask her more about her mom and their relationship. Instead, Jade pressed on with their game. “Favorite sports team?”
“I don’t have one.”
“What? I call bullshit.” The disbelief was in her wide eyes and her voice, pitched slightly higher than normal.
“It’s true. I can’t be biased, you know.”
“Oh, come on. You have to have a favorite. Everyone has a favorite.”
“Everyone? What’s yours?” He challenged her, enjoying their little game, despite how run of the mill it could have ended up being. Asking Jade the easy, simple questions had relaxed her, and now she was sitting up with a playful twinkle in the hazel of her eyes.
“The Sixty-Niners.” She winked at him as she spoke, but the answer still made his breath catch for a moment. He’d like to play Sixty-Niners with her.
“That’s not a real team, you know.”
“It is. They’re Californian.” She nodded emphatically, and Declan no longer knew if she was jerking his chain, or if she really believed that the Sixty-Niners existed. “They’re much more open-minded in California.”
He closed his eyes, trying to figure out if laughing would offend his pink-haired date, or if she was waiting for him to accept the joke. “I don’t know what to make of that answer.”
“They’re good with balls. They hit it hard and fast, you know? I like that.”
He couldn’t hold it any longer. His laughter bubbled over and he waited for Jade to either join him, or stand and walk from the restaurant, a look of anger and embarrassment on her face.
It was the former. A smile spread across her face, bringing the apples of her cheeks up, making the corners of her eyes crinkle, exposing a brilliant smile and a tinkling laugh. “You weren’t sure for a second, were you?”
“No. And I didn’t know what to say.”
“Are you still not going to tell me yours?”
“No team is better than the Sixty-Niners, Jade. I can’t top that.” The next words came unbidden but were as honest as could be. “But dammit, Freckles, I’d like to top you.”
One night. One night.
It’s only one night.
The fact that Jade needed to remind herself was troubling. She’d been sitting across from Declan for nearing two hours and he had thoroughly won her over. Which meant, naturally, she was mad as hell at him.
He wasn’t supposed to be open and affectionate and funny.
He was supposed to be a jackass.
She needed him to forget her, or flirt with the waitress, or order his steak still mooing so she had a reason to stand up, flip him the bird and walk away. For good. But no, instead he showed up not on time but early, didn’t spare one glance at Bree’s bountiful boobies—which was more than Jade could admit to, since she was kind of enthralled by them—and he’d ordered a vegetarian dish, smiling when he told her he’d been off meat for several months.
Punctual. Faithful. Conscientious. A trifecta of death for her heart, her mind and her ovaries.
“Are you ready?” Declan’s voice was right beside her ear, causing her body to chill, then warm as the shock of his nearness gave way to arousal. His voice. Her ear. I bet he could make you come with just his words.
She nodded, allowing him to slide her chair back so she could stand. Threading her arm through his offered one, they walked through the restaurant in near silence, broken only by one last “thank you” exchanged with Bree.
“She winked at you,” Jade whispered, leaning in closer to ensure that Declan was the only one who heard her. Whether or not she took advantage
of that nearness to breathe in his mouth-watering smell was moot. Mostly, she just wanted to know how he would react.
“How do you know she wasn’t winking at you, Freckles?”
His unexpected question brought Jade to a halt. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I spent the entire night watching her as she flirted with you, paid you extra attention, and because I know that if I didn’t have your arm in mine, I’d be winking at you too.”
“Oh.” Dumb though it may be, his words said in a playful, slightly awed voice rendered Jade a little speechless. Of course she’d known Declan found her attractive. He’d certainly made no bones about it over the months of their frenemy-ship, but there was something about the way his arm wrapped hers tighter as he told her he’d flirt with her that made her brain shut down.
Which was a nice change. The sassy bitch upstairs was getting far too mouthy for Jade’s liking, and she feared that meant she was mere days away from a total breakdown.
“Come on, Jay. Let’s get out of here.”
Jay. Brighton called her Jay all the time. Chris had called her Jay, also. But Declan had never. Not once in all their interactions, good or bad, had he called her that.
She liked it falling from his mouth. A lot.
So much that, as the doors of the restaurant closed behind them, she released his arm, turned so she was standing in front of him, raised onto her tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. Later, she’d think about why she’d done it. Whether she should have waited or abstained or pressed for more, but in the moment, it was the right move at the right moment.
And it felt so right.
“Jade,” Declan breathed out her name as she dropped back on her yellow heels, his eyes bright in the lights that twinkled over them under the restaurant’s awning.
“I had fun tonight,” she admitted, wondering if maybe she should have kept that bit of info to herself. But no, she was woman enough to admit when she’d made a mistake, and maybe, just maybe, she’d been too harsh in judging Declan for all this time.
Or maybe, her traitorous, contrary mind chimed in, this is just the calm before the storm.
Oh, shut up and let me enjoy this, okay?
I’m trying to help you avoid getting hurt.
You’re annoying the fuck out of me, that’s what you’re doing.
“Hey, you’re doing some pretty heavy thinking there.” Declan lifted one big hand to her cheek, cradling it so softly that she wouldn’t have known it was there unless she’d seen him lift it, felt the warmth of him so close. “And you know the night’s not over yet, right?”
“Huh?” An inelegant answer, sure, but Jade wasn’t sure what else he could possibly have planned. They’d stayed talking over dinner and dessert for hours, and with the stars shining brightly overhead, the peace of the nearly deserted nighttime streets surrounding them, she assumed he’d take her back to her place and say goodnight.
“I’m taking you back to Brighton’s. You promised me one night. One whole night.”
The words churned inside her head, the implication making her ire rise. “Um, excuse me? I am not having sex with you tonight.” Jade’s face burned. Embarrassment that he’d played her clashed with anger that he apparently expected her to put out after an expensive meal and a few hours of chitchat.
It’s not like you didn’t know the other shoe would drop eventually.
“Whoa, whoa.” He held up both hands in a stop whatever you’re thinking gesture. “I know what you’re thinking, and that is not what I was implying.”
“Oh, yeah, what the hell were you implying then?” She made to turn away from him, already regretting their gentle kiss of moments ago. “Jackass.”
“Hey.” Declan’s voice was firm, commanding. Even though she didn’t want to, she turned back to him, determined not to fall for whatever bullshit excuse he was about to give her. “I asked for one whole night to spend time with you. Clothed, unclothed, I didn’t have a plan or an agenda or a checklist. I wanted more than just a quick meal and then you blowing me off.”
Jade snorted. Of course he’d love for her to blow him . . . off.
“No. No, whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I want to take you back there because I know you have to watch Lowe and Storm for a couple more days, but I want more time to get to know you and for you to get to know me, so when I say shit, you don’t immediately assume I’m an asshole who is trying to get in your pants.” He thrust his hands into his hair, a look on his face that reflected a frustration and an honesty that even Jade couldn’t deny.
Oh . . .
She stood in front of him, her determination to not be swayed by excuses or reasons slipping away, replaced by the need to apologize.
Stepping forward, aligning them so that her body was nearly pressed flush against his shaking one, Jade slid her arms around his waist, and murmured, “I’m sorry.” Standing there, the glow of the restaurant still washing over them, her arms around him, his arms by his side, Jade wondered what it would take to push this man away, once and for all.
She had come into this night, this date, with a plan to do exactly that, but as she stood there waiting for him to return the small amount of affection-laced apology she was offering for her outburst, she feared she’d found his limit.
She feared maybe she’d lost a chance with him, one she’d angrily deny wanting but still . . .
Wanted.
With her arms around him, Declan took a moment to remind himself that this was Jade. Jade Miller, the girl he’d waited around for, hoping for an opportunity to make things right between them. To explore this combustive attraction in a more civilized manner than supply room sex and verbal smack downs.
She’s been hurt, give her a chance.
Slowly, Declan raised his own arms to circle his little spitfire, pressing a gentle kiss on her pink hair and accepting her apology without words. If he wanted a chance with her—and he did, or else he’d have given up long ago—he needed to accept that she didn’t quite trust him.
Yet.
Plus, if he was being honest, she wouldn’t be Jade without her ability to go from sweet to spitfire in the space of seconds.
“We good?” He lowered his head so that he could speak in low tones directly in her ear. He didn’t want to break the moment, where she was settled in his arms and he was settled in hers. It was the calmest, closest moment they’d shared—ever—and he wasn’t willing to let it go. Soon. But not quite.
He felt her nod against his chest, the bobbing of her head creating a friction and a visual that belied his good intentions for the night to come. They stood there, together, for several long minutes but eventually, they pulled apart. Without words or warning, as though they both acknowledged that the moment had come to an end.
And though the moment had ended, the night had just begun as far as Declan was concerned. He’d told her he wanted to take her back to Brighton’s house so she could care for their animals, but before that, they’d swing by his place to grab some supplies.
After all, they had an entire night to fill.
And Declan knew just how he wanted to fill it.
Declan pulled up in front of his building, waiting for Jade to question why they were there instead of on the road to Brighton and Sebastian’s house. But she sat silently, her hands tucked between her legs, her eyes studiously avoiding his.
“Freckles?” There was a slight hint of concern in his tone; he couldn’t mask it and didn’t want to. Since she’d been so fast to assume he was using her for sex earlier, he wanted to be sure she was okay. Sure of him. That she believed his intentions, while not exactly honorable, were far from dishonorable. “Do you want me to take you home?”
“I really am sorry, you know.” Her voice was small, and Declan hated it. Hated her uncertainty, that she sounded so doubtful. When he’d met her last year in Sebastian’s office, she was electric. With her pink hair and tattoos, her bright shoes and razor-sharp wit, he was infatuated immediate
ly. So infatuated he looked up the definition of infatuated to make sure it was the right word.
It was. He was.
But as the days passed and they spent more time together, a result of having friends that were madly, ridiculously and sometimes embarrassingly in love, he realized something about her. Behind her no-nonsense, no-shit, no-doubts exterior lived a woman who wasn’t always so confident. And fuck, did it hurt to make that discovery. To realize that deep within, someone had muted her, dulled her. Made her question herself and, as a consequence, everyone around her.
“I know. I probably should have explained myself better.”
“Even still, I—”
He reached over the console that separated them and laid his hand on one smooth thigh. God, she was soft. “It’s fine, I promise. We wouldn’t be us if you didn’t yell at me on occasion, right?”
“We’re not an us though.”
That’s what you think, he thought. But he didn’t speak the words. He still had hours left of the night she’d agreed to, and he wanted her to reach that conclusion all on her own.
And if she didn’t, then he’d tell her, show her, convince her.
Somehow. Some way.
There wasn’t another option when he couldn’t get her off his mind.
“Come on, let’s head in.”
“Why did we come back here? It’s completely out of the way of Bright’s.” She narrowed her eyes at him, a lively expression swiftly replacing the bothered one that he’d witnessed mere moments ago. “What are you up to, Declan Young?”
“I’m innocent, I swear, Officer.” Jade laughed at his comment as he raised his hands as if to say it wasn’t me, and Declan felt a swell of pride in his chest. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless, that he’d turned her mood around to where she could laugh with him again. “I just need a couple of things, is all. Nothing untoward . . . unless that’s what you’re want—”