by Lisa Wells
There were no surefire ways of knowing if a woman was trustworthy.
“This is a stupid conversation. I need to go wash my face,” she said.
He wasn’t ready to let her off the hook. Nor let her out of the room. “I wonder why you’re running away from this conversation?”
She licked her lips. “I’m not running anywhere.”
He chuckled. He’d hit a nerve. His sister used to snap at him like that when he was right and she was about to lose an argument to him. “Mon cher, you want to love. Tell me I’m wrong,” he said to Adeline.
She picked up the spatula and brandished it like a weapon.
Jack slipped off his suit jacket and stared at her. What did she need protecting from? Him?… His opinion?… The truth of his words?… Or being hurt?
Was that it? Was she afraid of being hurt? Beneath her bluster, was there a woman afraid of having her heart bankrupted? A woman with the same fear he had but for different reasons?
“It’s not part of our agreement for you to psychoanalyze me.”
Is that what he was doing? “We have a very loose agreement,” he pushed.
She shook the spatula at him. “There are no loopholes that allow you to try and figure me out. Tell me who you want me to be, and that’s who I’ll be. But stay out of my head. I’ve had enough probing into my psyche to last a lifetime.”
Her expression didn’t change, nor did her voice. But the pulsating vein at the base of her throat told him she was close to a breaking point.
He took a deep breath. Weighed his options. He wanted to push. Push hard. But why? If he chipped away at her wall, he’d be obligated to help put it back up when their time together was over. And he might not be able to find all of the pieces, and if that happened, he’d be turning her loose into the dating world without her full arsenal of protection. The thought of that didn’t enthrall him in the least. “First, you take sex off the table. Now, we can’t even talk about love. You’re not a lot of fun,” he teased.
She laid the spatula down. Didn’t smile. “You are the one who took sex off the table. I just happened to wholeheartedly agree.”
He lifted his hands in the air. “That I did. But I didn’t take kissing off the table.” He focused on her perfect mouth.
“But my face is green.”
He didn’t give a damn what color her face was. Her lips were pink and plump and begging to be kissed. “I know.”
She swaggered around the counter and stood in front of him, giving him a big smile. “Okay. Take your kiss.” Her voice was full of laughter.
He went painfully hard. He’d probably have a heart attack if her face was scrubbed clean. He lifted her onto the counter so that their faces were level with one another. The moment their gazes met, his heart skipped a beat. “I’m seriously going to kiss you.” This wouldn’t be their first kiss. Not even their second. But it felt like their first real kiss. One intended to seduce. Not the kiss at her place when he’d been consumed with worry that she was dead. That kiss had been more of an assault. Not the kiss during the pole dance. This one would be different. He would take eternity with this kiss. And he hoped like hell she wasn’t keeping count.
“Stop talking and get—”
He captured her mouth with his, cutting off her words. Taking her startled breath. There was something to be said for a woman who liked to laugh. But even more to be said for a woman whose lips were soft and tasted like chocolate chips. He took his time. After all, the kiss was the appetizer, the main course, and dessert. He planned to savor the meal.
But he was unprepared for how the moment made him feel. The mere touch of her tongue against his was more than he could handle.
As if in agreement, she sighed and lifted her hands and threaded her fingers into his hair, leaning into him.
He’d been kissing girls since he was old enough to ride a bike. He knew the sound of consent. Knew the feel of consent. She was his for the taking. He could lay her down, kneel between her legs, and worship her with his tongue and teeth and lips. His throbbing shaft told him to stop thinking and start doing.
He cupped her head and deepened the kiss. He shifted his hands under her ass, ready to lift her off the counter and take her to bed. Forget about common sense. Live only in the moment. And he could think of a dozen reasons why he should do just that.
And one why he shouldn’t.
He was a man of his word. He pulled back. Pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why don’t you go on to bed? I’ll clean up in here.”
She pressed a hand to her throat.
He mentally willed her to say she didn’t want to go to bed alone. To invite him to join her.
“Oui,” she finally said, thrusting her hands in the pockets of her robe.
“And…one more thing,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair, “I leave early in the morning for another audit.” One of the negatives to his job. He traveled way too much for a man who wanted a stay-at-home wife. Of course, if he were married, she could just go with him.
Adeline frowned. “You work too hard. When will you be back?”
Her concern stirred something in him. Gave him a glimpse of what it would be like if they were a real couple. A glimpse he liked. “Friday. And I’ve scheduled our first date for Friday night at Bizzarios.”
“Can we practice my French?”
“Ma cherie, la langue de l’amour est une seductrice. Faites attention a ce que vous demandez.”
Her green face scrunched up. “What does that mean?”
My darling, the language of love is a seductress. Be careful what you ask for. “I said your cookies are superb and kisses are sweeter.”
“Liar. I heard the word darling and love.”
He chuckled. “Did you study the list of names of people I work with that will be at the picnic?” Their company picnic always occurred shortly after Tax Day. It would be his first opportunity to introduce Adeline as his fiancée. The thought made his stomach clench.
“Of course. Mr. and Mrs. Carpenter will love me,” she said with a saucy wink.
With those parting words, she strolled out of his kitchen, smelling like cookies, looking like a green monster, and mumbling non, non, non under her breath.
“That went well, don’t you think?” he said to Dexter.
The dog gave him a disapproving bark, shook his head, grabbed the last cookie off Adeline’s plate, and followed her.
Chapter Sixteen
Adeline crawled into her massive bed and hugged her body pillow. Most of her life she’d slept on a worn-out, single mattress with a skimpy pillow. Sleeping on a luxurious, king-size mattress, with a half-dozen pillows, took some adjusting. More adjusting than she would have ever envisioned.
She sat up and punched the two pillows for her head. Then tossed one on the floor. The extra bed-space mocked her. Mocked how alone she was in the world; a soul-sucking loneliness that hadn’t reared its ugly head in a long time. With the immediacy of Dottie’s death stabbing her in the heart, her lack of roots had her inner peace in a tailspin.
When she next visited Dottie, she was going to speak to her in French. Hopefully, hearing the language spoken would spark good memories of Dottie’s time with Adeline. She was Adeline’s first French instructor.
A door opened.
Hers.
She stilled, not breathing, though not from fear. Would tonight be different? Had the kiss changed everything? She touched her lips. His kiss had blown her apart. Leaving a fire in her belly that begged for attention. Again.
Would tonight be the night Jack whispered, “May I come in?”
Dexter jumped off her bed and walked to the opened door.
Would she say yes? Of course she would say yes. The man had her squirming with lust.
Her door closed with a distinct click.
She exhaled. Tonight would not be the night. “Damn.” What did a girl have to do to get laid?
Every night was the same. If Dexter was in her room when Jack came home
, he’d fetch the dog on his way to his bedroom. Only tonight wasn’t the same. They’d shared cookies and a kiss. Did his lust not run hot?
Adeline glanced at the clock on her nightstand. One a.m. His hours at work were ridiculously long. How could his company have their employees work sixteen-hour days?
She’d been in Jack’s room several times when he wasn’t there. Looking for hints of who he was when his defenses were down. Browns and beiges highlighted his expensive but minimal decor. Other than the family pictures on his side dresser. Nothing minimal there. He had soooo many family pictures. Her favorite was one of him and Kinley rolling on the ground with a new beagle puppy on top of them.
Adeline’s bedroom was decorated in a deep burgundy. There were two walk-in closets. One designed for shoes, the other for clothes. Adeline was in love with the claw-foot tub. Deeply, madly in love. All types of lotions and bath salts were available for her use. As well as a beautiful pink robe with matching slippers. She hadn’t worn them; she wasn’t sure if she should. They still had the tags on them.
Jack’s shower started.
Adeline imagined Jack stripping out of his clothes. What would he look like naked? Tall and lean for sure. And well-hung. She knew that for a fact. And muscular? She’d had that view of his chest that morning in her condo when he had slept next to her. But she’d been so rattled, she wasn’t sure if her memory of his physique was real or exaggerated. Below the waist, though, that was etched quite clearly in her brain. Inches and inches of an adult play toy.
Why was it again she’d agreed with the no-sex rule? But said yes to kisses? She must be a masochist.
A French phrase she’d learned came to mind. The phrase was Amis-amants. Friends who have fun. That’s what she should have insisted on as her rule for their relationship. Tonight she could benefit from a friend to amant with.
Hell. His questions about her ideal man had sent her pleasure-depraved body down a rabbit hole of sexual thoughts. All she could think about was having an orgasm. Of course, some of that depravity may be her own fault. The steamy thoughts surfaced when she was practicing her French; do you want to have sex with Jack Foster?
She closed her eyes.
It had been a really long time since she’d enjoyed any type of sexual release. God knew she’d had the urge ever since pretending to be his professor and twirling around the stripper pole. Who knew her years of taking drama in high school would come in handy one night in a bachelor’s pad. Each night since her adult acting debut, she had to force herself to ignore the desire to find a release. Finding sexual release under his roof felt wicked.
She wondered if Jack was in need? His work schedule didn’t leave much room for relationships.
Or, maybe he wasn’t lonely at all. Maybe he had the perfect sex partner set up in a condo somewhere. A booty-call playmate. Someone who refused to be his rented fiancée but got the enjoyment of using his body for pure, unadulterated pleasure. Someone he’d been spending his evenings with instead of coming home and spending time with Adeline.
Someone I want to be.
She got up and locked her door, then crawled back in bed and slid her panties off. She bent her legs, let them fall open and touched herself. Her back bowed as a spurt of pleasure whipped through her veins. She couldn’t help but cry out. Wow. She was primed. She touched herself again. And rubbed. Torturously slow.
Dear God that feels good. A moan escaped her lips. Maybe twice. Or even three times.
She didn’t care. Dexter was probably snoring by now. She licked her lips and enjoyed the buildup.
She enjoyed her go-to fantasy. It wasn’t exactly inventive, but it worked. Pizza delivery guy, a.k.a Stud Murphy. Only he quickly morphed into IRS accounting audit guy, a.k.a Stud Foster.
Through a fog, she heard a knock at her door. Was it Stud? What would Stud say when she opened the door wearing nothing? Would he punish her for cheating on her taxes? Would he—
There was another knock. “Adeline?”
Her eyes flew open. Shit. Reality rushed in like a burst damn, and she yanked her panties back up her legs. “What?” she asked in a guttural voice.
There was a moment of silence. “Are you okay? I was getting a drink and thought I heard a noise,” Jack said.
“I’m fine,” Adeline snapped. Why was he listening outside her door?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought maybe you were having another nightmare.”
She gnawed on her bottom lip. Her body ached for the release it had been promised. What rotten timing on Jack’s part. A few more seconds and she would’ve been floating on a cloud of pleasure. “You didn’t wake me. Go away. I’m busy.” Crap. She might as well have said “I’m masturbating.”
There was a deep male chuckle. “Do you need some help?”
“As a matter of fact, I do—”
The doorknob twisted. “Unlock your door and let me in,” Jack said, his voice heavy and hot.
He didn’t let her finish. She was saying I do not. Should she correct him, or unlock the door and go with the flow of his mistake? She exhaled. Nope. If they had sex, it had to be 100 percent his idea. She couldn’t be the one who initiated the breaking of their rule.
Not because it would be bad for her pride if she initiated it, which it would be, but because Jack was a man who needed to meet a woman he could trust.
Adeline wanted to be a woman Jack could trust. She wanted that more than she wanted his help with her current orgasm dilemma. And he trusted her when she said she was okay with a no-sex relationship.
If she up and said, oops didn’t really mean it when I promised I was great with the whole no-sex relationship, he’d feel validated in his opinion that there was no such thing as a trustworthy woman. That women just said what you wanted to hear at the time.
She stopped lecturing herself long enough to inhale and reply. “As usual, you’ve failed to let me finish. I was saying…I do NOT need your help.” She collapsed back on the bed. Did she sound convincing? She held her breath and waited for his response.
He chuckled.
After a couple of seconds, she heard him whistling. She waited until the whistle faded down the hallway.
Once he was gone, she felt one-fourth relief and three-fourths massive disappointment.
Ten minutes later there was another knock at her door. This time she was in a euphoric state; completion. “What?” The word was barely audible. She cleared her throat and said it again. “What?”
“I’m trying to get busy and wondered if you would come help a guy out?”
Chapter Seventeen
Three nights since the infamous cookies and getting busy evening. Three nights since the kiss. Tax Day behind him for another year. The upcoming company picnic less than a week away. And he was back from his latest trip.
Jack hadn’t seen Adeline until they met at his favorite restaurant for dinner a few minutes ago. The morning after the infamous night, she’d left before he got up to go shopping at the nearby Farmer’s Market. He had waited around that morning as long as he could, in hopes of talking with her, but finally had to leave to catch his plane. He left her a note telling her about his trip and reminding her of their upcoming date. And had signed it with a smiley face, because she brought out the joy in him.
He’d planned on picking her up tonight, but ended up in a poorly-timed impromptu meeting with his mentor who’d been quizzing him about his love life.
So tonight, Jack sent a cab, because he wanted to be the one driving Adeline home. And he didn’t trust her old clunker of a car to get her back and forth. When she first moved in, he offered to loan her his classic Mustang, but she adamantly turned him down when she discovered he inherited the car from his dad. Then he offered her his everyday car, and she turned that down. Said her old clunker wasn’t fancy, but it suited her.
Three nights was a long time for Jack to think about what might have been. What wasn’t. And what he wanted to do about it. He wanted to change the terms of their r
elationship. He wanted to tell her that he no longer wanted her to be his fake fiancée. He wanted her to be his real girlfriend. The bosses would just have to deal with the fact he couldn’t say for sure where their relationship was headed.
He wanted to be honest with them about her. More importantly, he wanted to be honest with her about the way she made him feel.
A way he hadn’t felt in a long time. She made him feel hopeful that trust could be accomplished in a relationship.
Now, sitting across from her at a small table in an expensive restaurant, the possibilities seemed endless.
She looked hot. Every man in the place turned to look at her when she was shown to their table. He’d never seen her in anything other than casual clothes or pajamas.
The dress she wore accented her curves in a manner that screamed Hollywood femme fatale. The black material snugged her body like a lover’s hand, stopping about mid-thigh. Her legs were sheathed in a pair of shear stockings, bringing vivid images of her dancing the stripper pole to mind. Were they held up with a garter belt? She wore a pair of stilettos that added several inches to her height. Her hair pushed off to one side in a come-hither style.
Adeline squirted hand-sanitizer on her hands and rubbed them together. He smiled. Her and her germ phobia. The table by his front door now held a fancy bottle of hand sanitizer, and she strongly encouraged him to use it when he came home from work each day.
She took a sip of her wine. If she was embarrassed by the other night, she hid it well.
Her makeup was subtle. It brought attention to her long black lashes and her high cheekbones. Her luscious lips held a tint of red and a dab of gloss. She obviously didn’t need any of it to turn him on. Her green mask had gotten that job done quite well. But still, dressed up Adeline knocked his equilibrium into a different time zone. He took a deep breath. Time to change the course they were traveling. “Adel—”