Apparently, Liam felt the same way he did. “I wish there was more I could do to stop them, but they’re careful not to break any laws. The best I can do is keep a regular watch and get her out of the way quickly. Unfortunately, she’s not always, uh, eager to be extracted. She likes the attention.”
Jake didn’t bother contradicting him. Liking the attention and accepting it as a fact of life were two different things. “It’s a wonder they don’t try to pay you for information. Seeing as how you know more about the company she keeps than anyone.”
“Oh, they try. But I won’t take it.” There was nothing about his demeanor to suggest otherwise. “I have a daughter her age.”
Jake was surprised to find that they’d pulled up in front of her building again. He was even more surprised that Liam considered their interview at an end. He stuck his hand out and held it there, unwavering, until Jake slipped his palm carefully in.
“I can’t say I was ecstatic to hear of your engagement to Ms. Clare, but I can see now that you have her best interests at heart.”
Despite his reservations at hearing anyone’s best interests might be placed in his safekeeping, Jake smiled. He’d come out here with the sole intent of reassuring himself that Liam could be trusted, but he couldn’t help feeling that he’d been the one being tested.
He also couldn’t help feeling that he’d passed.
* * *
“I think you should take me out tonight to celebrate our engagement.”
Jake didn’t, as Becca expected, balk at her suggestion. To be fair, he didn’t exactly jump to his feet in excitement either. He was pretending to relax, idly flipping through a magazine, but she was pretty sure he was nursing his sore muscles. He hadn’t moved from that spot in over four hours.
“And by take me out, you mean you’ll choose the place and pick up the tab while I watch from the sidelines, yes?” he asked.
“Aww, poor baby.” She ran her hand along the back of the couch, moving seamlessly from cool leather to the warmth of his neck before he could stop her. “Being a kept man is harder than you thought it would be, isn’t it? Is that why you won’t sleep with me? Is your manhood suffering from all this lazing about?”
He twisted his head to look up at her, his expression stern. “My manhood is working just fine. And I think I more than earned my keep fixing the living room wall you and your maid butchered yesterday.”
She climbed onto the couch and nestled next to him, delighted when he lifted an arm to begrudgingly hold her close.
“And you did such good work. I love it.” A red so bright it seared the eyeballs, extending all the way up to her twelve-foot ceiling. She should have painted over the boring, empty white years ago. She’d had wonderful dreams last night of swimming in red silk and gorging on candy apples. “I had no idea you were such a good painter.”
“It wasn’t difficult. I moved a brush up and down.”
“But you were so careful with the tape and everything. I guess it was only to be expected, seeing as how you’re a—”
“I swear to God, Becca, if you tell me I’m a good painter because I’m a Virgo, I’m going to Picasso the hell out of that wall the second your guard is down.”
She giggled and snuggled closer. He sighed but allowed it, which was becoming his standard response to all her overtures at physical affection. She suspected he was trying to keep her at arm’s length to avoid the possibility of her getting too attached, but nothing she said or did would convince him she didn’t harbor any illusions about the true nature of their relationship.
What Jake couldn’t seem to understand was that she didn’t harbor any illusions about anything. Okay, so maybe she’d thought she’d be better at balancing on top of a ladder with a gallon of paint in her hands, but that was different. Jake had definitely overreacted when he’d yelled at her to get down and let him do it or risk being tied to the couch.
Because the real stuff? The things that mattered? She knew how it worked.
Friends died. People hurt. Horrible things happened while the world sat at home and looked eagerly on. No one would ever accuse her of being overly intellectual, but she knew better than to break her heart over a man like Jake Montgomery.
“I was going to say it’s only to be expected, seeing as how you’re a perfectionist,” she teased. “But yours fits too.”
His chuckle shook her, and he lifted a hand to run it negligently through her hair. She wasn’t sure if he was even aware he was doing it, so she didn’t move, barely breathed, letting herself bask in the quiet comfort of his touch.
It only lasted about two minutes.
“What did you have in mind for this evening?” he asked, dropping his hand. “I suppose we might as well get our first public appearance over with. That article in the paper didn’t leave much in the way of mystery—though I do like that they’ve decided to call us Jabecca.”
“You just like it because your name comes first. I prefer Beccake.” Rather than get into an argument about a name that sounded either like a Star Wars character or a Japanese sex act, she plunged ahead with her plans for the evening. “I was thinking we could hit Juno—you know that place in the Meatpacking District? They have an amazing DJ on the weekends.”
Jake stiffened at Becca’s words. He didn’t have anything against the Meatpacking District, though he found it a trifle overdone, but Juno was the one place in New York Dana frequented no matter how much his ennui plagued him. No way was he taking her there.
“How about that new place on Sixteenth? I’ve heard it’s good.”
“No thanks.”
That was it? No thanks? “What about Satan’s Boudoir? I haven’t had a chance to see it yet.”
“You only want to go there because the waitresses wear nothing but pasties and devil tails.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I want to go to Juno.” The way she said the words—like a teenager about to slam the door—made him wary. He lifted his arm out from where she was crushing it against the couch and watched her for clues.
Not that he knew what he was looking for. Becca didn’t really have tells the way other women did—playing with her hair in flirtation, snapping her brows in anger. She just was. And right now, she just was making him suspicious.
“Why Juno?”
“I told you. Good DJ.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he attended the School of Rock. Maybe he has music in his soul.”
“Why, Becca?”
“Ugh. You’re so annoying. It’s not necessary for you to know everything all the time.”
He waited. Becca scowled at him for all of ten seconds before throwing her hands up in surrender. “I’m hoping Dana Carstairs will be there, okay? My horoscope says it’s a good time to confront the man with the power to hurt me, so I asked around and found out he sometimes goes there on Fridays.”
Jake’s head clunked with the lopsided rotations of his incredulity, too many of them all at once. “Slow down a second there, Tiger. You want to go out with the sole intention of attacking Dana again? Because your horoscope says so?”
“I’ll have you know that Madame Pernaud is rarely wrong.”
He held up a finger, more to calm himself than to quiet Becca—which was just as well, since she ignored him.
“And I’m sorry to speak badly of a friend of yours, but Dana is a horrible human being who deserves what’s coming to him.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
Her eyes lit up. “So you’ll help? I wasn’t planning on forcing a confrontation like this, but I figure if Madame Pernaud thinks it’s time I got to the root of the problem—”
“Whoa. One step at a time. I’m still dealing with the horoscope side of this conversation. Do you often base major life decisions
on the musings of a stranger?”
“Not always.” She pursed her lips, considering. “Maybe seven times out of ten? Stop looking at me like that, Jake. It’s not that bad. The horoscopes don’t tell me anything I don’t already know. Madame Pernaud just forces me to put things into perspective.”
She meant it. She actually fucking meant it. This woman, who’d almost killed herself and her cleaning woman trying to paint a wall in her apartment—who, minutes ago, had been curled up against him like a kitten purring in his lap—routinely put her fate in the hands of a few random words on a page. And she was proud of it.
“Oh, please,” she said, that pride coming through loud and clear. “Like you have any room to judge. Your way of making decisions isn’t any better.”
“My way?” Jake wasn’t aware he had a way...at least, not unless you counted his tendency to use goddamn common sense. “I’m afraid you’ll have to explain what that is. I don’t have the wisdom of a tabloid medium to enlighten me.”
She clamored off the couch and stood, her back set against the newly vibrant red wall. He didn’t much care for bright colors in general—especially on unmoving fixtures like apartments—but there was something about the combination of her appearance, small but resolute and dressed in a striped miniskirt layered with about twelve tank tops, and the powerful red that seemed to fit.
He recognized the fit at once. Becca wasn’t a woman who stood out among the backdrop of everyday life and ordinary people, and she could easily get lost in the bustle of the real world. But place her in a harsh environment designed in every way to outstrip her, and she shone.
She absolutely fucking shone.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“I’m proving my point.”
“By standing there staring at me?” He crossed his legs and rested his arm along the back of the couch, forcing himself to appear relaxed as he awaited her next move. “Did Madame Whatsit tell you to do that too?”
She didn’t answer, opting instead to turn her back to him. There was no denying that her backside was a sight to behold—Max knew what he was doing when it came to muscle development—especially when her ass was encased in the tight, stretchy fabric of her practically nonexistent skirt. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around her midsection and pulled off the first tank top, flinging it over her head and allowing it to float to the floor. It was the way women removed clothes only when they wanted to entertain, to seduce, to make a grown man cry.
“Whatever you’re doing, it’s not going to work. Don’t forget—I’ve seen you in various states of undress before. It’s lovely but not life-changing.”
She peeked over her shoulder at him, her smile coy. Christ, she did that well. Toyed with him, dared him to do more. He hoped she didn’t plan to get all the way naked. Her body might not be able to change his life, but it was more than enough to ruin his day.
“Should I put on some music, do you think? It might make my triumph go down easier.”
“No one will be going down in this room anytime in the near future.”
She flashed him a bright smile. “That’s what you think.”
With another seductive sway of her hips, she lifted the next layer of tank top. She moved slower this time, taking a moment to flash the bare skin of her back, perfectly shaped, an instrument tuned to all of mankind.
“It’s getting kind of cold,” he said. “You might need a blanket.”
“Oh, I’m not worried. It’s about to get very hot in here.”
She wasn’t kidding. Not content with the removal of her top layers, she reached a hand up her inner thigh. She paused as she hit the hem of her skirt, lingering in a tiny space of time just long enough for Jake to draw a breath. It was good that he did, because he didn’t breathe again for the entire ninety seconds it took her to draw a tiny pair of black panties down her legs. She stepped out of them one foot at a time, the lace snagging on one of her heels in a way that had to be fabricated.
It was exquisite. It was absolute torture.
“You’re wasting your time,” Jake said, though he couldn’t be too sure about that any longer. Since he wasn’t sure what her end goal was, she might very well be on the track to victory. Did she want to turn him hard and leave him straining for more? Goal accomplished, though that wasn’t too difficult to achieve these days. Did she plan on forcing his hand, getting him to toss aside his tenuous scruples for a hard fuck against that bright red wall? Hmm. She might have him there too. “I’ve already told you. This is an engagement in name only.”
“Just be quiet and watch. I’m almost done.”
Almost done? Disappointment twitched in his cock, taking up residence alongside a rapidly growing amount of interest. He wasn’t sure which feeling unsettled him more, so he decided to sit back and enjoy the show for as long as his conscience would allow it.
There was only one layer of tank top left covering Becca’s upper half, and she spun to the front to give him a front-loading view of its removal—which wasn’t a bad thing in theory, but it turned out she wasn’t wearing a bra. Jake had been braced for another layer, a few pieces of fabric and well-crafted bits of metal to shield him from the full onslaught of her nipples.
But there they were, drawing tight before his eyes, lifting and beckoning in their voluminous perfection. Those weren’t spectator nipples. They weren’t sweet, daintily formed features awaiting a soft caress. They begged him to touch them, tug them, clasp them between his teeth and pull.
Dammit. Those nipples took him by surprise. He could handle himself just fine around her if it weren’t for all the fucking surprises.
Becca had just hooked her thumbs on the top of her skirt waistband when Jake gave in. He was across the room in less than four seconds, had her breasts firmly in hand in half that. Her skin was impossibly soft under his touch, the warm weight of her body a perfect fit. He pulled her closer, his hand splayed on the small of her back as he dipped his head to take one of those surprise nipples into his mouth.
It was amazing and as far from a spectator sport as you could get, so much to fill his mouth and his senses all at once. He flicked his tongue lightly over the contracting flesh, loving the way her body reacted in an instant. She was pliable and yielding, offering as much as he wanted. And he wanted a lot. He wanted to continue suckling until he could feel the pull echoing in his groin, drop to his knees and worship at the idol of her body until they were both left panting.
But he didn’t. He’d taken what he needed—a taste, nothing more—and wisely backed away.
His lips had left a mark, a tint of pink where he’d nibbled too hard, lost an iota of control. As this wasn’t something that happened very often—especially where sex was concerned—he met her eyes to gauge her reaction and...blinked. Was she laughing at him? Was she seriously laughing at him right now?
“Now I’m done. Thank you for making my point.” She reached for the nearest tank top and pulled it over her head. It was the shortest and loosest one, a sort of half-shirt she’d layered over the rest, and he could still see the lure of her nipples underneath the thin white fabric.
He took another wide step back. “Your point is that I’m capable of succumbing to temptation like any other man? This seems a rather cruel way to go about it. I’d think that was fairly obvious.”
“My point is that you aren’t the type of person who makes any decision at all until you’re pushed to extremes. You don’t act, Jake. You react.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again, startled by her approach, which smacked of feminine judgment. Becca wasn’t supposed to be disapproving—that was what he liked about her. She didn’t push him to be different or better, she accepted that he made stupid bets with Monty and then did her best to help him win.
“I think you’re forgetting one small thing,” he said, trying not to le
t his resentment show. “If I were to perform a similar striptease right now, I bet everything I own that you’d react the same way. Two minutes in, and your mouth would be all over me.”
“Well, yes. Obviously.” When he didn’t respond right away, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. The lifting action caused her breasts to swell and her body to arch toward his—neither of which was helping his case right now. “But I’ve been trying to get you to have sex with me since you moved in. I’ll have sex with you right now, in any position, in any location. All you have to do is say the word. We could even step outside and you can bend me over the rail of the fire escape, if that’s what you want.”
“Not amused.”
“No. I can see that. But you have to admit that I’m right. The only reason you put your mouth on me just now—which, by the way, was fantastic—was because I forced your hand by waving my tits in your face. You want me. You’ve wanted me since that night in the club. But you won’t act on it. You’ll only react when I give you no other choice.”
A coil of frustration tightened in his stomach, pulling down, growing dangerous with potential energy. “Or maybe I’m trying to be a gentleman and not take advantage of your situation—and you’re making it really difficult. Did you ever consider that option?”
“You think that’s it?” She pursed her lips. “Because I’m pretty sure you’ve never done anything in your life that wasn’t a reaction to something else. You took up sailing because you won that yacht in a poker game. You go to nightclubs and parties because that’s where your friends are. You were mad at your dad for marrying my sister three years ago, so you whisked me away for loud, messy sex in the next room.”
She paused, as if waiting for him to contradict her. He wished he could. He didn’t regret sleeping with Becca—to regret any of his sexual partners would be a discredit to each and every one of them—but he did wish there had been more to their encounter than that.
“Your dad and brother froze your accounts, so you ran off to the big city to prove it didn’t matter.” Her voice grew quieter. “And my mom threatened to have me committed, so you faked an engagement to save me.”
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