by Tara Mills
“I chose a cabernet blend for you.”
“Thank you.” Sabrina took a cautious sip, and her eyes widened in surprise. He’d chosen a far better wine than she would have. She wondered what he spent on it, then decided not to dwell on that, either.
He took an appreciative swallow of his Newcastle and kicked back with a contemplative smile.
This was their first real opportunity to take a closer look at each other without mayhem in the mix. In this quiet, casual though guarded way, they were able to finally take stock.
No single feature stood out in Jackson’s face. His brow was nicely proportioned, though he did have an interesting dart of hair, slightly offset from the center, that established his natural part. He wore his hair just a tad longer than your typical executive type, but it suited him. His eyes were perfectly sized and placed. They were intelligent eyes, interested and interesting eyes. Weeks ago she’d decided she rather liked his eyes, and she saw no reason to change her opinion. Jackson’s nose was straight, never broken. It neither turned down nor tipped up at the end. It was a masculine face but softened just a little so it wasn’t harsh. His cheeks didn’t slash, his chin didn’t jut. The line of his jaw wasn’t sharp and aggressive, but it didn’t recede, either. His mouth was no exception—its size, the shape, the fullness of the lips were perfectly suited to the overall picture. Nothing exceptional whatsoever, and yet blended together into a harmonious mix he was downright handsome. If that wasn’t enough to turn a woman into a silly sighing mess of hormones, his cologne would finish the job. It did with Sabrina. Big time.
Sabrina lowered her glass and admitted, “You know, I wasn’t expecting you to be so nice to me.”
“Manners are a hard habit to break,” he said with a wry grin.
The man had nice straight teeth, too. Did he have braces as a kid or just luck out in the genes department? Feeling herself melting without her permission, she brought her gaze back up to his, but it didn’t help at all. He had wonderful eyes.
Collecting herself, she said, “Can I ask you a question?”
“You mean another one?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
“Only if I can ask one too.”
They both had to think about that for a second and decide whether or not to proceed.
“Okay. My question,” she said, laughing when his eyebrows rose with interest, “is why were you one of the bachelors? I thought you had a girlfriend.”
He shook his head. “No girlfriend.”
“But that woman you were with last week—”
“Genevieve.” He took another sip of ale. “That was just a date.”
“It sure looked like more. You seemed to really be enjoying each other, and she was so beautiful.”
“Very beautiful.” His eyes moved over Sabrina’s pretty face, and Jackson was surprised to discover he actually preferred the one looking back at him. Everything about her was soft—the oval face, the delicate cheeks, the modest little nose. Even her lashes looked soft and touchable. He wondered how she would react if he reached across and brushed his thumb over them to check. He wondered if her skin and hair felt as silky as it looked. He studied her mouth, and his gaze moved to the rim of her glass and the perfect impression of her lower lip stuck to it. He liked her natural skin tone coming out from behind the lipstick. He knew for damn sure he’d prefer the true taste of her lips over the taste of the lipstick.
“So if you could be with someone like her,” she continued, “why would you put yourself through that?”
“Fair question.” He skimmed his index finger and thumb up and down his bottle while he considered his answer. “I didn’t. I was shanghaied and dragged up there by a few of my friends when I was about to sneak out.”
“You saw the first set-up, didn’t you?”
“Unfortunately.”
Her eyes defocused for a second. “After that spectacle, I was heading out the back when Tanya caught me.”
He laughed—a nice, warm, approachable laugh. “Well, your questions were an improvement over that other woman’s.”
“They weren’t my questions. Tanya and Nate wrote them. I didn’t even get a chance to read them ahead of time.”
“Harsh. So why were they trying to fix you up?”
“Is that your question?”
“I only get the one?”
“Of the loaded questions, yes.”
“Then forget that one and tell me this instead. How the hell did you almost run me down that day?”
Sabrina’s face blazed bright red. “I think I’d prefer the other question.”
Intrigued, he shook his head. “No way. Now you have to tell me.”
“But it’s way too embarrassing.”
“Even better.”
“Oh, god,” she said with a groan and finished off her wine. “Do I get another one of these for telling you?”
“Depends on how good your answer is.”
She gave up with a sigh. “You know how you were jogging?”
“Yes?”
“You had on these shiny black running shorts.” His eyebrows rose, but she pressed on, wanting to get through it. “And they were clinging and fluttering and the sun was hitting them in just the right way—it was like your butt was winking at me.” Her head went back and forth like a metronome. “Boom, boom, boom, boom. I was so hypnotized by it I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Jackson kicked back and laughed heartily. The look on her face sobered him.
“You’re serious.” It was more a confirmation than a question.
“Afraid so,” she said miserably.
“And the next day?”
Might as well confess all.
“There it was again, pulling me in like some sort of magnet. I swear I didn’t even know it was you until you turned. Well, not even then, because I was in a trance. Understand? Like a spell or something, so I didn’t…”
“You weren’t really checking out my package,” he said, helpfully finishing for her. A subtle smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.
She hid her face behind her hand. “Not on purpose. It all happened so fast—both times.”
Jackson blushed—he actually blushed—then reached across and picked up her glass. “You earned this.”
****
They steered the conversation to more innocuous subjects after that, spending a good deal of time on the ins and outs of managing staff and keeping competitive in a cut-throat market. They could each relate to the other’s fight for survival, but oddly enough, Sabrina didn’t ask Jackson what he did, exactly, until she was already sloshed. By then it didn’t register.
“It was my idea, The Dating Game,” Sabrina admitted with a hiccough of shame. She set her third glass of wine back on the table with a wobbly hand and slid it away with maybe one swallow remaining. She didn’t know why she’d asked for it. She had already surpassed her limit, and that wasn’t even counting the drink she’d had at the Oasis.
“I guess we’re just not the target audience,” he said with a smile.
“Hmm?” she asked blearily.
He frowned. When did she turn this corner? One minute she was fine, coherent, and the next she looked about ready to ooze under the table and sleep it off on the sticky floor.
Jackson stood and took Sabrina’s arm, helping her to her feet. “Come on, let’s take you home.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said with a big yawn.
“I know.”
****
He got her into the car. By the time he walked around to his side, she was snoring softly with her head against the door.
“Sabrina,” he shook her arm gently, “where are we going?”
“Home,” she mumbled.
“Where is that?”
“Home.” Her voice faded out.
Jackson leaned over and grabbed her purse off the floor. He sighed and went digging for her license, and when he found it he smiled at her picture. Setting the card on the dashboard, he
put her purse back on the floor by her feet.
****
The house, the entire neighborhood, was dark when they stopped at the curb. Jackson went back into her purse looking for her keys.
“We’re here, Sabrina,” he said, jostling her. She didn’t respond. “Wait a minute. I’ll get the door and come back for you.”
Walking up the serpentine pavement, he reached the front door and flipped through the keys. Finding what looked like a house key, he tried it in the lock. No good. Grumbling under his breath, he fanned through the keys again and tried another, but that one didn’t work either.
Jackson’s head shot up a second later as vicious barking broke out inside, followed immediately by a blaze of bright lights. He stood back and waited, relieved that he wouldn’t have to haul Sabrina in all by himself now.
He wasn’t remotely prepared for the terrifying face that suddenly glared out at him through the glass.
“Holy shit,” Jackson gasped. Clutching his chest, he staggered backwards.
Collecting himself, he inched forward, but not too close, and tried again. “I’m sorry to wake you so late, but I brought Sabrina home and I could really use a little help getting her inside.”
The dog was actually baying on the other side of the door now. Creepy.
“Sabrina doesn’t live here anymore. She moved out last Saturday.”
Jackson blinked in surprise at that information. “You don’t happen to know her new address, by any chance?”
“No. Why don’t you ask her?”
“Sorry to disturb you,” he said backing away slowly.
“Moron,” she snarled.
****
Back in the car, he tried to rouse Sabrina again, but that wasn’t happening. Out of ideas, Jackson finally decided just to take her home with him.
He half led, half dragged her across the parking garage to the elevator, and when the door opened he hefted her inside and propped her up in a corner, using his body to keep her upright so he could punch the right button. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a Sabrina puddle on the floor.
The door slid open, and Jackson grabbed Sabrina around the waist and lugged her out. Her head lolled and her feet dragged along behind her. This wasn’t working at all.
With a curse, Jackson turned and heaved her over his shoulder, then staggered to his door. Luckily his keys were still in his hand. He got the door unlocked and plodded heavily inside, closing the door with a backwards kick.
He didn’t bother with the lights but set off directly for his bedroom.
“Do you need the bathroom first?” he asked.
She mumbled something, her head banging against his back.
“Better not pee my sheets,” he warned.
As soon as his legs hit the edge of the mattress he sighed with relief and rolled her limp body out across his bed. She was dead to the world.
He stood there watching her chest rise and fall with each contented breath and considered his next move. She really was quite lovely. Not in the Genevieve category but pretty damn gorgeous in her own way. Where he’d simply wanted to gaze at the magnificence of the one woman, he felt an extraordinary need to touch this one. She pulled at him in a way Genevieve hadn’t. How strange.
Jackson bent down and took a foot, removing one red heel, then the other. He dropped them to the carpet with a soft thump.
“You should undress,” he told her.
Her answer was a soft snore.
“Ah, shit.” Jack sighed and leaned over to unhook her belt. He slipped it out from behind her and tossed it aside, then went back and reached under her warm shapely bottom and found a zipper. The leather skirt did not come off easily, he had to work it down her hips, but the reward for his effort staggered him. Not only was she wearing sexy thigh-high stockings, but the barely-there black panties above them were a thing of beauty. Only a careful razor could have made that look so right. Then he made the critical mistake of taking a closer look and moaned because she was perfectly defined and damn near visible against the sheer front.
He was getting hard—most inconvenient.
“Listen,” he said, almost pleading, “I think you’d better wake up and take care of your shirt yourself. Okay? Please?”
Nothing. Damn.
“I’m going to come in my pants,” he muttered under his breath, then reached out and began unbuttoning her blouse—and got an even bigger shock.
He jumped back. “Is that a corset?” he asked, his voice breaking for the first time in twenty years.
Jackson took an abrupt walk around the room, pausing at the window for a minute to roll his forehead against the cool glass.
What did the woman do, shop at Frederick’s of Hollywood? He was shaking like a detox patient when he went back to finish pulling her sleeves down her arms. Tugging the blouse none too gently out from under her, he threw it onto the nearby chair and backed away, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off that fitted bustier and the luscious breasts bubbling out of its top.
Sabrina was a vision, a goddess, in that get-up, and he was so unbelievably screwed. He felt like weeping just looking at her spread out on his bed. He could eat off that. Hell, he could eat that.
Rock hard. He was rock hard, and he couldn’t touch her. Wasn’t life grand?
Jackson picked up the edge of the blankets and folded them over her.
Cursing himself, he went into his dresser for a new pair of boxers, then stalked off to the bathroom to find a little relief and hopefully recover his sanity.
Chapter 10
Sabrina groaned, and her hand went cautiously to her head. Her mouth felt sticky, tacky, and she popped her tongue out in disgust at what she discovered in there. Peeling her eyelashes apart, she peered into the dim room and blinked at what she saw. Had she died and gone to House Beautiful?
A wall of windows ran from one corner of the huge room to the other and looked out over the city. She sat up in the strange but scrumptiously comfortable bed and pulled the outrageously beautiful bronze-patterned chenille spread with her, wrapping it around her body as she walked over to the windows to look out.
Wow. Clutching the blanket to her breast, she looked down, her hair brushing the glass, and wondered what floor she was on.
“What a view,” she whispered in awe at the waking city and the river below. “I’m in love.”
Turning her back on her newest fantasy, she checked out the room itself. The bed, as already discovered, was big, tall, and gorgeous to boot, with a sleek light-wood headboard that was spared being boring by the subtle swoop across the top and the gentlest of bevels along the edges. The dressers and nightstands were obviously of the same design, and the simple nickel handles carried the swoop of the headboard across each drawer front. The carpet was plush, creamy, downright dreamy, and she dug her toes into it and sighed.
She smiled at the framed poster of a sea turtle gracing an otherwise unembellished wall. To the right was the door to the connecting bathroom, and there was an enormous carving (Was that a box turtle?) beside it on the floor. She moved closer to get a better look and saw that the glossy shell incorporated the beautiful whorls and concentric rings of the wood itself into the pattern. It was remarkably pretty and obviously expensive, but then the whole room had an understated wealth about it.
Heading into the bathroom, Sabrina flipped up the first of the many switches and let out a squeak.
Did she think she’d fallen in love with the bedroom, with the view? Silly girl, that was simple lust. This was the real deal.
She dropped the blanket in the doorway and went inside like a child entering a marvelous toy store. Her hand ran along the smooth black marble countertop and dipped into the first of the recessed sinks. Above the backsplash was a mirror large enough to hang in a dance studio. Screw her navel—she could stand in front of this and see to her knees if she backed up a step or two.
Oh, fudge. Why did she have to look at herself? Yikes.
Sabrina scrambled to th
e nearest sink and turned on the faucet, dipping her face into the bowl to wash off her smudged makeup with whatever soap she pumped into her hand. To her relief it had a light clean fragrance and didn’t dry her skin. Come to think of it, the water itself felt good, not hard, no rusty smell. She brushed her teeth with her finger and found it tasted good, too.
“Knock, knock,” said a masculine voice.
She lifted her gaze and found Jackson standing in the doorway behind her, his arm bent high against the jamb, his muscular bicep and dark armpit fully exposed.
Sabrina shut off the water and rose slowly. Her eyes traveled down his reflection as she came up, the sight of his bare chest and small dark nipples stopping her breath, the line of hair spreading out from his navel making her panties cling, and his ruby-red silk boxers bringing her out in a matching blush.
Jackson came toward her and Sabrina spun in alarm, but all he did was pick a hand towel off the bar and hold it out to her.
“For your face,” he said with amusement.
“Thank you.” She blotted her face and decided that dark sexy whiskers this early in the morning should be banned. It was hitting below the belt, by several inches.
“Why don’t you take a shower?” he said. “We have time. Then while you’re getting a cup of coffee I’ll take my turn in here.”
“I don’t…” She began to argue, but his teasing grin cut her off.
“Or we can shower together if you’d rather, though I’ve found that you never save time that way. It always ends up taking twice as long.”
The rascal. “I’ll shower first.”
“Fine.” He turned to go but spun back and looked her over appreciatively. “By the way, love the underwear.”
He bent and picked up the blanket in the doorway and closed the door behind him.
“And I love your ass in those boxers,” she murmured helplessly. God, she wanted him. She’d just found out his full name last night, and she wanted him—bad. Ugh!
****
Stripping out of her undergarments, Sabrina stepped into the shower and stared in confusion at the apparatus.
“I’m an intelligent woman. I should be able to figure this out.”