A Gentleman in the Street

by Alisha Rai

  Of course there was an elephant in the room. It had taken all his concentration to not let his mind stray to visions of her naked. Pleasured.

  He clenched his thighs, fighting his body’s natural reaction. “I know.”

  “Are we going to talk about it?” Her fingers toyed with the chopsticks. “What we did?”

  Unbidden, his eyes slid over to the rug. “What we did here?”

  “Here. And in that storage room.”

  Talk about the storage room? He wanted to reenact what they had done in the storage room. Only this time, he would be the one between her thighs, making those cries fall from her sweet, lush mouth, cries he wouldn’t stifle, let the whole party hear what he did to her…

  Jacob shifted, his cock thickening despite his best efforts. No, no, no. Too soon. He wasn’t here for this.

  Their truce was so fragile. “Probably best not to,” he finally said, as matter-of-fact as he was capable of being. “Not yet.”

  Her beautiful dark eyes gave nothing away. “So when?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  She took another bite from her carton and squinted at him. “So. Now what?”

  From one difficult question to the next. It was becoming rapidly apparent he hadn’t thought this through. What could he talk about with a woman he’d spent fourteen years alternately avoiding and pining over? “Now we pretend to be normal people.”

  “Hell.” Akira set down the carton. “We’re doomed.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Akira’s doorbell was far too loud.

  Or perhaps her home was simply too large, the sound echoing over the massive foyer, up through the unused bedrooms.

  She stared at the double doors, her fingers drumming against her knee. She should get up off the stairs where she sat and answer it, but the fact that she wanted so very badly to kept her seated, counting to one hundred.

  Jacob would be standing on the other side of the entrance, and though this was the third night in a row they were trying out this tentative peace, it was the first time he was coming to her home. Ever.

  Her fingers curled as she slowly counted through the fifties.

  There was no possible way she could hide all her personal things here. She’d purposefully laid her stamp on the place, and for good reason—only her closest friends and most vetted confidantes were permitted to visit this house. Business functions were handled in impersonal hotel ballrooms. Not in her home.

  She wasn’t quite sure how Jacob had managed to invite himself. She’d informed him she would be busy, packing for a quick two-day trip to New York to meet with the head of the Anderson Group, who she feared was getting cold feet about selling his European assets to her. She’d spent too long combing through the due-diligence reports legal counsel had sent her to have this idiot back out now simply because he hadn’t warmed to her personally.

  She’d told Jacob as much, and the next thing she knew, he was coming over.

  He was a wizard. It was the only explanation as to why she was incapable of saying no to this man.

  Case in point: this ridiculous agreement. She could find someone else to open the damn box. Tatiana had a lead on the company that had initially crafted the thing. Hell, Akira didn’t even particularly care what was inside it. Getting the thing into her possession had been her goal for so long, simply having it was enough for now.

  You just wanted to spend more time with him.

  Guilty. Though the last two nights had been a bit awkward and strained at times, things were…different. There was a shift in the way he looked at her and talked to her. Like she was the friend he’d said he was looking for.

  He had a quiet irresistible charm and surprising hidden depths. Like last night, when he had brought up her work habits. “You always work late like this?”

  “No.” She could have ended with the short answer, but he’d been looking at her expectantly, as if he was actually curious about her business. “I’m trying to finagle a deal, taking over the European arm of this corporation. They’re running the actual businesses into the ground, but they have great locations.”

  “Sounds important.”

  “It is. It could instantly almost triple my holdings there.” Europe was a market she had long been eager to expand in. That was where the Mori hotels had been particularly robust.

  Not that she was competing with her father. But, well…she couldn’t deny that it would give her a great deal of satisfaction to rub his face in her success on his home turf.

  “So no, I don’t always work as late as this, but I probably do work later than most people.”

  He didn’t respond, so she prodded him. “Aren’t you going to lecture me on proper work-life balance?” A phrase she rather despised. She had a proper work-life balance, but people either assumed she did nothing but party or she worked herself to death. No one understood her work-life balance was just right for her.

  He had cast her a confused look. “I work late sometimes because I enjoy it and I don’t want to stop. You should do whatever makes you happy. Even if that’s staying here until midnight.”

  Maybe he was telling her what she wanted to hear. But that made no sense. He got nothing out of winning her over—money, sex, or fame hadn’t exactly been a part of his deal.

  A shocking thought: perhaps he had no ulterior motives other than getting to know her without the negativity that had contaminated every dealing they’d had before.

  She narrowed her eyes. Look at him, not even impatiently ringing the doorbell more than once, though she was taking her sweet time in answering. What kind of a saint was he?

  She rose slowly to her feet and made her way to the door, pulling it open. He gave her his lopsided, rare smile, and she almost slammed the heavy wood in his face.

  She wasn’t used to this at all. Somehow, it was easier to deal with the man when he was brooding and being silently disapproving. Then she knew what to expect, was able to predict his actions, which in turn dictated her own. This guy…no, she had no idea what he was up to.

  “So you answer your own door.”

  “It’s the butler’s night off.”

  He snorted as he walked past her, forcing her to open the door wider to accommodate his large frame. When she didn’t respond, he turned, his red sweater clinging to his muscles.

  The spurt of lust was almost second nature by now. Almost.

  “Oh. You’re serious.”

  She closed the door and shoved her hands into her pockets. “Of course I’m serious. Do you really think I have time to run a house of this size in addition to my business?”

  “Hmm.” Jacob glanced around, and she had to fight her instinctive urge to blindfold him, perhaps lead him to the most nondescript and boring room in the place. She had a guestroom on the third floor that was in the process of being renovated. He could go there.

  No, there was only a bed in that room. He might get the wrong idea. Or the right idea.

  “Yeah, I suppose you would need help here.”

  “It’s not such a big deal.” She hated the urge to apologize for her wealth. “My mother had a butler.”

  “Only for parties,” Jacob responded absentmindedly, while he studied the crown molding with a heavy fascination. “Not on a regular basis.”

  Akira rocked back on her heels. “Right.”

  His eyes softened. “Sorry. Did you not know…?”

  “The box is in my library.” She covered her slip hastily, not eager to delve into all the ways this man had known her mother better than she had. “Do you want to wait here while I grab it?”

  “I’ll come with you.” He fell into step beside her, adjusting the strap of his ever-present messenger bag.

  “You don’t have to.” Probably best to keep him to safer parts of the house. She’d assumed they would eat in the dining room. Harris had laid out a simple spread for the two of them before heading out for his night off.

  She supposed she could have handed Jacob the box, in accordance wi
th their stupid agreement, and left him to it while she attended to her own affairs, but he had provided dinners for the past two nights. If nothing else, she was a good host.

  This had nothing to do with her newly discovered fascination for the way he dug into his meals with such relish and gusto, the movement of his strong throat as he swallowed, the unselfconscious way he threw himself into enjoying his meal. Nor did it have anything to do with their still-strained, yet oddly compelling conversations between bites.

  “I don’t mind,” he said mildly.

  She slid him a sideways glance as she led him down the hallway. The first floor was made up of her library, kitchen, formal dining room, and three sitting rooms. The library was the only room she actually used when she was alone. “You just want to see my library, don’t you?”

  “How could you tell?”

  “You looked mildly aroused when I used the word ‘library’. And I know it wasn’t for me, since I don’t elicit mild arousal.” The flirtatious sally wasn’t deliberate. It was an automatic reflex. She wanted to recall the words as soon as she’d uttered them.

  She flirted with her friends, but Jacob probably didn’t. Would he become cold and cutting now? A shaft of sorrow ran through her, but it didn’t get far, because he spoke.

  “No,” he responded, his tone husky. “You don’t.”

  She glanced at him sharply, but his hair hid his eyes. Still, a little fission of awareness ran down her spine.

  Well. Well. Well. Was Jacob Campbell flirting with her?

  “I like your house. Or what I’ve seen of it,” came his deep voice. Not cold or cutting.

  “Yeah?” She quickened her steps. His longer legs automatically matched her stride. “My mother was here once. She declared it all incredibly tacky.” Mei had sneered at the huge chandeliers and lavish furnishings. And she had never even made it past the first floor. The second, where Akira did her entertaining, would have given the woman a heart attack.

  “I don’t think it’s tacky. Did you decorate it yourself, or did you buy it like this?”

  Her shoulders lifted. “I did it myself.”

  “It’s beautiful. Really.”

  She gave a single, decisive nod, a tight knot in her chest releasing. “Yes, it is.”

  “Though I’m probably not qualified to judge. I hardly visit Pacific Heights houses regularly.”

  “No Specific Whites friends for you?”

  He tipped his head, acknowledging her use of the derisive term for the elite, mostly white neighborhood. “No. And I’m okay with that. No offense.”

  “None taken.” She gave him a shark’s smile. “The old lady next door still mutters about the ‘upstart Oriental’ who bought Buffy and Harold’s place and turned it into a den of sin.” She opened the door to her library.

  Jacob stopped. Good. It meant he was properly impressed. “May every den of sin look like this.”

  “If you’re going to sin, darling, you should do it with class.”

  The ceilings here were as high as the rest of the house, and the massive expanse of walls had been covered by floor-to-ceiling bookcases. A couple of sofas and tables made up a large reading nook in one corner. Her heavy desk and home office setup were arranged nearby.

  There was a separate study, but she preferred this area. The scent of the books helped her think. Some of the shelves were empty, but the majority were crammed tight with titles.

  Jacob took a few more steps inside and craned his neck up, treating the sight of this room with the kind of reverence most people displayed in her impressive foyer. “This is insane. This is all yours?”

  “Well. I inherited about a fifth of the titles from the previous owners, after donating the boring ones I didn’t want. The rest, yes. The rest are mine.

  “What?” she asked, when he continued to look at her. “Some rich people collect art. I collect books.”

  “You never told me that.”

  “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

  “I’m an author. You didn’t think I’d find it relevant you have a library the size of a football field?”

  “Hardly a football field. Maybe a couple of basketball courts.” She couldn’t help but savor some satisfaction. Jacob didn’t impress easily.

  He walked to the closest bookcase and ran his finger along the shelf. “You’ve had someone alphabetize these?”

  “Funny enough, I am capable of putting books in alphabetical order without relying on my serfs.”

  He shot her an incredulous glance. “When do you sleep?”

  She glanced deliberately at her watch. “Sometime between fucking and ruling the world.”

  The words were a test, and he passed. No flinch or expression of horror at her frank talk, but a snort of laughter that made her want to smile.

  She controlled her facial muscles. Really, she was too easily swayed by this man.

  She stiffened when he came to an abrupt halt, his shoulders rigid. Abruptly recalling what was in that section, Akira took a quick step toward him, but it was too late.

  Fiction. The C’s.

  He turned and studied her. “You have every one of my books.”

  She kept her face impassive, though she couldn’t help that her fingers had tightened into a fist, her body bracing for a blow. Never let them see what you like, what you want. “So?”

  “So…why do you have my books?”

  Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I don’t know.” Her heartbeat accelerated, a tell that annoyed her, even if he would be unaware of it.

  Well, you see, I couldn’t stand not having at least the barest connection with you.

  She couldn’t talk to him. She couldn’t bed him. She couldn’t befriend him. But for all these years, she could read him.

  She tensed, prepared for an interrogation or mocking, and was surprised when he tapped his fingers against the shelf and cocked his head. “Do you want my autograph?”

  Her muscles relaxed in a rush, making her legs shaky. Her lips quivered at the corner. “Sure.” She strolled closer. Mischief and another, darker emotion had her reaching past him to pull a paperback off the shelf. This book had been released in hardcover later on, she was sure of it, once Jacob became popular, but she still had the original first edition. Her fingers brushed his when she handed it to him. “Here. Do this one.”

  They both looked down at the glossy cover of Shield of Sorrows. Unflinching, he met her gaze. “It wasn’t you.”

  Heat rushed through her, but it wasn’t arousal. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He took the book from her and flipped through the pages, a fierce scowl growing on his face. “It came to my attention recently there are those who believe I modeled Lidia after you.”

  Her laugh was light. Meaningless. “Do you think I’ve honestly read every book in this library, Jacob? I don’t know who Lidia is.”

  That gave him pause, before a cunning light lit his eyes. “You may not have read every book in here, but you’ve read all of mine.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You’re arrogant.”

  “And you’re lying if you deny it. Which is why you aren’t denying it.”

  She leaned against the bookcase, considering him. “I’m an excellent liar.”

  “Not with me. And I think you know that.”

  Had he always been this sexily confident? Had his quiet, unruffled demeanor simply concealed it from her? “Okay, hotshot. I’ve read this book. But I certainly have better things to do than wonder if you used me as inspiration for a self-serving socialite with questionable morals.”

  She had never been able to read his emotions quite so easily. Remorse deepened the lines around his mouth. “Well, if you had, rest assured, I definitely did not.” He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and flipped open the book to the title page. Scrawling a couple of lines, he handed it back to her.

  Unable to resist, she glanced at the writing. You’re more like the hero.

  She bit her lip to keep from
smiling. “Because I’m brilliant, aggressive, and sexually accomplished?”

  His face was serious. “Yeah. And because you could probably save the world, if you were wearing the right shoes.”

  She cleared her throat. It had been a while, but she vaguely recalled the time Agent Talent had freed himself from certain death with a knife concealed in the sole of his wingtips.

  As amused as she was, she wouldn’t read too much into his words. He was being flip, that was all. Akira placed the book on the nearest shelf, ruining her admittedly obsessive ordering system. “I undoubtedly could.”

  He shifted his weight. The light from the wall sconces caught the subtle reddish undertones in his hair. “So, what do you think?”

  “Think?”

  “Of my books.”

  Her fingers drummed a steady tattoo on the shelf. “You don’t want to know.”

  He winced. “Ouch. Okay. That bad, huh?”

  “The intrigue and suspense part is always good,” she offered. “You’ve almost stumped me a couple of times until the middle.”

  “I’m kind of hoping to stump people until the end.”

  “Don’t worry. Most people aren’t as smart as me.”

  He looked amused. “But?”

  “But what?”

  “The suspense is always good, but…”

  She shrugged. “You need to work on your female characters.”

  “My…” He drew back, offended. “I’ve been praised for my female characters.”

  “You mean the ones you don’t brutally murder?”

  A dark flush moved up Jacob’s face. “Shield was my first book, okay? I haven’t brutally murdered a woman in…” he flinched, “…at least two books?”

  “Hmm.”

  “I murder men too.”

  “But never the hero.”

  He was starting to look annoyed. Perversely, she kind of liked it. “The hero’s supposed to live. He’s the hero.”

  “Make him a her every now and again,” she replied. “And maybe I might increase the ratings I left you on Amazon.”