Like her disconcerting attraction to Ryan.
It was silly to hang on to the chair, she knew, considering all the bad memories that came with it-but it had been the one constant in her life, other than Brooke. When her father decided that he preferred the single life with a younger woman over the family he'd created, which entailed nearly destroying his wife in the process, Brooke had been the strong one during the turbulent divorce that had ensued. Brooke had taken care of her, and their mother. The separation had been a nasty one, with her father hiring a powerful attorney who had no compunction about taking advantage of her mother's emotional shock. And since her mother hadn't been able to afford to hire a decent lawyer for herself, she'd lost most everything to her husband and his new lover.
Bitter memories swamped Jessica as she remembered the years after the divorce, of her mother struggling to make ends meet because their father never paid child support and alimony on time, and Brooke sacrificing her teenage years to help raise her because their mother had to work two jobs to keep a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and food in their mouths.
An awful childhood, due to the abandonment of her father, and the insensitive, cruel nature of a divorce attorney more interested in his final take than a family's welfare.
She curled into the soft cushion and rubbed her hand over the powder-blue fabric. This chair had absorbed her tears and had taken all the angry pounding and abuse she would have unleashed on her father had he shown up to exercise his visitation rights. But ultimately, he hadn't cared for his daughters' emotional needs, just his own selfish desires. He'd never given a second thought to the family he'd left in shambles.
Neither had his cutthroat attorney.
When she thought of Ryan's profession, she thought of the lawyer who'd represented her father and coldly and cruelly demolished a little girl's dreams. A man who'd degraded a good wife and mother to benefit his client and pad his own pocketbook.
But Ryan wasn't cold and unfeeling and degrading. He was warm and caring and amusing, in a way that made her wonder how he was able to enjoy being a divorce attorney and accomplish all the necessary evils that went along with the profession when it was obvious that his own family ties were tightly woven. She wondered what had prompted his choice of occupation, then dismissed the thought because the answer really didn't matter-andshouldn't matter. Between his career and his drive and ambition, Ryan was completely wrong for her.
Closing her eyes, she burrowed her cheek against the plush headrest in an attempt to forget about her oppressive past, and the turbulent present. No matter the problems and afflictions that plagued her mind, the effect of the chair managed to calm her soul.
At the moment, Jessica was more concerned about the state of her heart… and Ryan Matthews easing his way into it. Despite everything he stood for, despite how frustrated and infuriated he'd made her today with the cake issue and his idea of a wedding present, she couldn't deny desiring Ryan Matthews, the man.
Her blossoming feelings for him were dangerous and could only lead to heartache. He himself had admitted that he wasn't looking for commitment, while she'd spent most of her adult life searching for just that, along with security and stability with a man. After living through her parents' nasty divorce, seeing her sister through a bad marriage, and making an error in judgment of her own in a previous relationship, Jessica was determined to make better choices. When she fell in love, she wanted it to last forever. When she married, she wanted to do it right thefirst time around.
And Ryan wasn't her vision of love and marriage material.
But he was a man who made her feel alive and desirable. He made her want to take risks and experience real passion. With him. The rest of the month stretched ahead of them, beckoning her to give in to that restless sensation swirling within her.
She drew a deep, shuddering sigh. She had no idea what she was going to do about her troubling attraction, and Ryan's unconcealed interest She was struggling between holding on to her convictions, or letting go and tasting the bit of heaven his smiles, touches, and kisses promised.
She feared the latter was winning the battle.
But no matter what happened between her and Ryan, no matter if she surrendered to the attraction she was finding increasingly hard to resist, two things were certain. She was holding firm to her decision about ordering a single vanilla-flavored cake for the party, and no way was she going to be a part of his outrageous, unconventional bathroom gift!
* * *
Three days passed before Ryan called Jessica to discuss his thoughts on the cake issue. He meant to call sooner, but work and late-night preparations for court appearances had interfered with his good intentions.
While she wanted to settle the disagreement over the phone, he'd insisted on coming by her place Thursday evening after dinner to resolve the matter-and made her suffer through another two days of wondering what he was up to and what he'd decided.
Finding a bakery who'd cater to his peculiar request hadn't been easy, thus part of the delay in seeing Jessica, but Ryan was confident that the end results of tonight's "taste test" would be worth the expense, and the wait. He planned to treat Jessica to her first seduction of her five senses.
After a long day filled with two depositions and a court appearance, Ryan headed home and changed from his suit into comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. Heading down to the kitchen to heat up the leftover spaghetti he'd made the night before, he picked up Camelot along the way and gave her the attention she wanted, then treats when they reached the pantry. While his dinner heated and Camelot munched happily on her morsels, Ryan skimmed through the day's mail.
He set aside two utility bills, tossed out the junk mail, and opened a few Christmas cards from friends. At the bottom of the pile was a cream-colored envelope, his name and address printed with gold ink. At the sight of Haywood and Irwin's senior partner's name andhome address affixed to the upper left-hand corner, a mixture of excitement, nerves, and anticipation swarmed in Ryan's belly.
Ripping open the envelope, he retrieved the engraved card inside. Elation bubbled within him as he read the contents. "I'll be damned," he murmured with a lopsided grin, feeling as though his six years of service and dedication to the firm, all his personal sacrifices, were finally paying off.
The gilded request invited him and a guest to the private, intimate Christmas gathering the senior partners held in appreciation of their most esteemed associates. Though the firm threw a casual office holiday party for all employees, only select members were invited to Haywood's home for the black-tie affair. It was an honor to be included in the elite group, a small but significant step up the corporate ladder, and it brought him one level closer to achieving his long-term goals. This was the first year they'd included him on their private guest list, and he wasn't about to refuse the opportunity to join the ranks of his other revered colleagues.
An RSVP card was included and requested notification of one or two guests. Anxious to respond favorably, he grabbed a pen from the holder on the counter near the phone, signed his name to the card, and moved to put an X on the line for one guest.
He hesitated. From what he'd heard and knew personally, the associates that attended Haywood's party brought their wives, or significant others. While he knew it wasn't a requirement that he bring someone to the event, he was also keenly aware that he was one of the few associates in the firm who was still a confirmed bachelor. No doubt, he'd be the only single and unattached employee in attendance.
The only person he'd consider taking was the only woman he had any interest in-Jessica. He imagined her in a room full of attorneys, and winced at the possibility of her cracking lawyer jokes and insulting the senior partners. But for all her joking and teasing with him, he'd like to believe she respected him enough not to undercut him in a professional atmosphere.
If she would even agree to accompany him to the party.
The idea of inviting Jessica definitely had merit. Not only
would he have a beautiful, intelligent woman on his arm and wouldn't be the odd man out, it would also afford him the perfect opportunity to show her that attorneys were civilized people and not the ruthless savages she believed them to be.
Granted, there were lawyers who took advantage of people, as in any profession. He acknowledged that, but that wasn't whyhe'd chosen a career in law. Not only did he enjoy a solid debate, but his main goal had been to help people in need, in whatever capacity possible. And while he had some clients who were vicious and wanted revenge on their spouses, he always tried to look at a case objectively and fairly.
He wanted Jessica to treat him the same way.
Good luck in securing the date, Matthews,he thought cynically. That in itself would be an extraordinary achievement. Yet he wasn't ready to admit defeat without at least attempting to influence her into agreeing. He'd have his answer tonight.
The microwave beeped, signaling his dinner was warm. He ate a plate of spaghetti, headed back up to his bathroom to brush his teeth, then went to his closet. Flipping on the light, he perused his collection of silk ties and selected an odd patterned one he hadn't worn in years. He folded the strip of material and stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans for later.
Then he left the house. He stopped at the bakery to pick up his order, and followed the directions Jessica had reluctantly given him to her complex. With a lightness to his step and the handle of a paper bag in each hand, he easily found Jessica's apartment and knocked.
She opened the door, dressed in white-washed jeans and a pale pink turtleneck, which was one of the most revealing things he'd ever seen on her. While the material covered her from wrists to throat, it was more snug than the loose sweaters and blouses she normally wore and revealed the full breasts that had pressed against his chest so deliciously that afternoon at his office.
Blocking his entrance, she crossed her arms over that lush chest, looking like a sentinel guarding priceless jewels. "I don't understand why we couldn't just handle this issue over the phone."
Knowing she'd discover his motives soon enough, he didn't bother to soothe her grumbles. Instead, he grinned, in too good a mood to let her complaint spoil what he had planned.
"Hello to you, too, Jessie." He stepped toward her, deliberately crowding her personal space. With his superior size, he forced her to back up and let him into her apartment, or end up pressed intimately against him.
With a startled gasp, she moved out of his way.
"Which way to the kitchen?" he asked, sending a quick glance around her place, which was decorated in pastels of blue, cream and bits of violet Very soothing. Very feminine.
"Why?" She closed the door and eyed him suspiciously. "I already ate dinner."
"So did I." He lifted the bags, drawing her attention to the packages in his hands. "This is dessert."
Confusion colored her features, and obviously rendered her mute. Since she wasn't being a hospitable hostess, he headed toward the left, where he spied a small oak dining table, which led him right into the kitchen.
"I'm not in the mood for dessert, thank you," she said from behind him.
"Oh, you will be." Setting the bags on a wide chair, he stacked her quilted place mats to clear the surface of the table for their smorgasbord.
She came up beside him, and regarded his actions pensively. "I thought you were here to give me an answer on the kind of cake you think we should order."
"I am, not that whatI think makes any difference to you and what you're determined to order." Done with his first task, he turned to look at her, letting a warm, lazy smile curve his lips. "You have it in that beautiful head of yours that being aman I haven't the slightest clue about cakes and desserts and what our guests might like."
A hint of a frown formed on her brows. "I never said that," she said quietly.
"Not in so many words, no, but you definitely thought it." He unloaded a number of small, square bakery boxes on the table, but left their lids secure. "I know you weren't thrilled with my suggestion of something other than plain ol' vanilla cake, so I'm here to convince you otherwise."
She stuffed her flattened hands into the back pockets of her jeans, drawing the material of her long-sleeved turtleneck tighter across her breasts. "What are you talking about?"
Masculine heat rushed through Ryan, followed by a sharp kick of desire. Judging by the faint outline of Jessica's nipples against soft cotton, Ryan guessed thatshefavored sheer, unpadded bras. There was nothing to conceal her body's natural response, and if he wasn't careful, his own unruly hormones were going to make his awareness of her just as obvious.
In an attempt to distract his thoughts he searched her kitchen drawers for a knife. "Out of necessity, I've become an authority on cakes, and when we're done sampling what I've brought, I'm confident that I'll have made an expert out of you, too."
She watched him set the knife on the table, then help himself to a chilled bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Ryan, you're not making any sense."
"It's simple, Jessie," he said, pushing up his shirtsleeves to just below his elbow. "I've arranged a taste test of various cakes, and we'll see which one pleases your palate the most. And if vanilla still comes out as your top choice, we'll go with it." He rested his hands on her shoulders. "All I ask is that you givemy flavors a fair chance."
She released a breath, and he reveled in the feel of the tension unfurling from her body. "All right," she agreed, and offered him a conciliatory smile.
Satisfied that he'd attained her cooperation, he patted the smooth, oak surface of the table. "I need you to sit right here."
"On the table?" she asked incredulously.
Unexpectedly, he touched her under the chin with his fingers, startling her. He gently lifted her gaze, so she had no choice but to look him directly in the eyes. Hers were so deep and blue he wanted to drown in their depths.
Very softly, imploringly, he said, "Just this once, make something easy on me, okay? And maybe you could trust me a little, too?"
He saw her internal struggle, and waited patiently, knowing he couldn't do this unless he had her complete and total consent. After a few heartbeats, her expression softened in agreement, and she granted him the permission he sought by sliding her bottom onto the table where he'd indicated.
"Perfect," he murmured, then withdrew the tie from his front pocket. Gradually, he let it unravel. With mesmerizing slowness, he threaded the cool silk through his hands and fingers, and finally wrapped the tapered ends around his fists.
She dampened her bottom lip with her tongue as she watched him manipulate the strip of silk. He expected her to be nervous, and he supposed on some levelshe was uncertain, but there was no mistaking the glimmer of anticipation that darkened her eyes.
It was all the reassurance he needed.
Her gaze traveled from the taut fabric in his hands, to his face. "What do you intend to do with that tie?" she asked, her voice husky.
"I'm going to blindfold you."
Chapter 4
Jessica shivered at the direct, male look in Ryan's deep brown eyes, the unmistakable seductive intent… but she wasn't afraid. She was suddenly very aware of the heat of his body, the reckless racing of her pulse, and the spiraling warmth settling low in her belly.
He loosened his hold on the tie, and the silk whispered through his long fingers again. The erotic sound strummed along her nerve endings just as effectively, awakening an undeniable excitement within her.
She struggled to draw a steady breath. For as titillating as she found his suggestion, she wasn't sure why shielding her vision was necessary. "Why do you need to blindfold me?"
"So you'll get the full effect of my experiment."
Stepping in front of her, he leaned forward to cover her eyes. When her locked knees brushed his groin, she automatically parted her legs to make room for him… and realized her mistake. He moved closer, nudging her thighs wider to accommodate his lean hips, making her far too aware of how intimate the
ir position was.
Their close proximity didn't seem to bother him. "Being blindfolded will heighten your other senses,like the texture of the cake, the flavor, the smell. And I don't want you cheating and knowing ahead of time what you'retasting."
He wasn't proposing anything indecent, or sexual even, yet as darkness descended over her eyes and she felt his fingers tying a knot in the scrap of silk at the back of her head, a strange, forbidden thrill rippled through her. Once he had her blindfold secure, he gently tucked the sides of her hair behind her ears-to make sure the strands didn't get sticky with cake and frosting, she was guessing. But his touch lingered longer than necessary. His fingers traced the delicate, sensitive shell of her ears, and his knuckles lightly skimmed along her jaw.
Her breasts tightened in response to his caress, and she managed a breathless laugh. "Is touching me part of your experiment?"
"I'm just making sure your senses are alert."
Her senses were electrified, and more alive than they'd ever been before. And she had no idea where his eyes were, but she felt themeverywhere. She resisted the urge to squirm.
"How many fingers am Iholding up?" he asked.
A teasing smile touched the corner of her mouth. "Two and a half."
He chuckled, and the masculine timbre of that sound shimmied down her spine with impossible pleasure. "Good. Your vision is definitely impaired."
He moved away for a moment, she heard a box opening and other sounds she couldn't identify, and then he returned to the cove between her thighs.
"Here's the first one," he said, and brushed her bottom lip with the confection.
She parted her lips at his urging and took a dainty bite of what he offered. Immediately, she identified it as the white cake. It was moist with a buttercream frosting… and very ordinary tasting. She kept her revelation to herself, still believing vanilla was their safest bet to please thirty people.
"This is the vanilla for sure," she said as she chewed and swallowed. "Are you eating it, too?"
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