Calling His Bluff

by Amy Jo Cousins

  Great. Without something to do, an active purpose to pursue, she was stuck standing there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Taking off her coat and sitting down implied a time frame for her stay that she didn’t love, but waiting in the middle of the room while the man she’d accidentally married two nights ago lit a romantic fire for an absolutely unromantic reason made her feel like an idiot.

  Once again, he seemed to read her mind.

  “But feel free to take a look around,” he said as he rose and brushed his hands off against his thighs. He gestured to the far corner of the open room with his chin. “The stairs go up to the bedroom and my studio. Watch your step, though. The construction isn’t complete yet. They promised me three months, which would have meant they’d be done by the time I got here. We’re going on six and it’ll probably take another six.”

  In the corner he’d indicated, a delicate-looking twist of wrought iron curved up to meet the half-wall of a second story.

  Pleased to have something to do, she headed for the stairs, wondering if she could manage to get up them in the dim light without breaking an ankle. Or her neck.

  “I’ve got motion-sensitive lights over there. Just head up and they’ll come on. Thirsty?”

  She glanced back over her shoulder to see J.D. in his kitchen, pressing a water glass against the lever that dispensed drinking water from the front of his refrigerator.

  “Yes, please. Airplanes.”

  “Dry you out. I know.” She watched him as he answered without looking at her and picked up the second glass he’d already set on the counter next to him in anticipation of her response.

  On the second floor, she found precision mixed with chaos.

  Half of the loft space was unfinished, steel beams and bricks gaping through the walls, piles of lumber and drywall sheets tumbled about in random locations. But along one side of the building, an enormous bedroom suite had been enclosed and finished to a level of luxury that made her raise her eyebrows in appreciation.

  “You could throw a party in that bed,” she said under her breath as she stepped into the place where J.D. slept. The sculpted-iron headboard echoed the curves of the stairs she’d climbed to reach this hideaway. Enormous panes of glass that stretched from the high ceiling down to chest height ran the length of the room, allowing a glorious view of the city lights at night while leaving the resident a fair amount of freedom to stroll around in his or her underwear without worrying about shocking the neighbors.

  Not that the neighbors, if they were women, would be anything but happy to spot J.D. in the buff, she thought. And then tore her mind away from that image as she entered the en suite bathroom.

  Heaven.

  She let out a sigh of pure appreciation after flicking the light switch just inside the doorway.

  Wavy glass bricks replaced the clear panes from the bedroom, but the windows lined the length of this room, too. A long, rough piece of black marble had been built into the wall opposite the window and a gradually deepening trough ran the entire length of the stone, two faucets positioned above it at equally spaced intervals before water drained at the deepest end.

  Both the glass-brick enclosed rain shower and the undoubtedly Jacuzzi-powered tub were large enough to continue any party begun in the bedroom. The build-out might not be complete, but what had been done was beautiful and had clearly involved much thought and planning by the man downstairs.

  Which made her wonder.

  She hadn’t been saying anything other than the truth as she saw it when she’d told J.D. in Vegas that he wasn’t a “stick-around kind of guy.” Ever since he’d managed to leave home as a boy, he’d avoided returning to Chicago for anything more than blow-in, blow-out visits to her brother. And from what she’d heard over the years, even J.D.’s life after leaving his hometown was a peripatetic one. Although he was theoretically based in California these days, spending more than six months at a time in one location just wasn’t his style.

  What was a man who moved from country to country, from project to project doing spending a year of his time and plenty of money creating from scratch what could only be described as a permanent home?

  “Don’t go reading anything into it,” she warned herself again and headed back to the stairs. “Maybe he’s just developing an interest in real estate.”

  She kept her eyes on her feet as she stepped carefully down the spiral staircase—maybe it became less unnerving with practice?—and didn’t see J.D. until she reached the bottom.

  He’d left almost all the lights off, a faint glow above the steel sink in the kitchen the only illumination aside from the fireplace. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire, elbows propped on his knees, chin resting on the interlaced fingers of his hands, he stared into the depths of the fire as if looking for the answers to life’s big questions.

  Or maybe just the question of what to do with yet another unsuitable wife.

  As she neared, he turned toward her and smiled. And Sarah knew without question that she’d give anything to have that smile be because of her. Not just a polite reflex, but because he was deep down in his bones happy to see her walking toward him.

  Damn. She was in trouble.

  Time to go.

  “Listen,” she said, pulling her coat tighter around herself, “it’s not imperative that I see her tonight. I can always stop by during my rounds at some point over the next couple of days, or you can bring her by the clinic anytime—”

  “Sarah.”

  She talked right over him. “And I really am exhausted. It’s been quite a busy weekend, remember?” Her laugh sounded false even to her own ears. “So, if you don’t mind—”

  “Sarah.” His voice was patient, as if he’d continue repeating her name until she shut up and listened to him. He put his hand palm down on the floor next to him. “Come sit. Just for a minute.”

  And because she still couldn’t resist him, despite every good reason why she should, she walked over to him, dropped her bag on the floor and sat. She kept her coat on and told herself that it meant she was safe.

  He’d turned to face her, gesturing for her to join him on the floor. She sat cross-legged facing him, their knees touching. Wearing dark jeans and a lightweight black cotton sweater, he looked casually stylish in a way that made her feel frumpy in comparison. After a weekend of pretend glamour, returning home felt like leaving a glittering, make-believe world to come back to the realization that her life, as much as she loved it, was in no way dazzling. She stared down at her hands as she twisted them in her lap.

  J.D. rested his palms on her knees with the lightest of touches and waited without speaking until she finally looked up and met his eyes.

  “I think you should stay.”

  Before she could open her mouth to protest, he lifted his fingers to her lips and stilled her. “I can read you as easily as I can that cat. You don’t think it’s a good idea, and you’ve been itching to get out of here since the second you walked in the door. But I don’t want you to go just yet. And if I want you to stay, and you want to stay, I don’t see why we should spend the night wishing we were together while sleeping in separate beds.” Even the hint of his smile didn’t lessen the impact of his words. “All complications aside.”

  A lifetime of battling with an older brother had conditioned her to sarcastic comebacks, and one spilled out of her mouth by reflex the moment his lifted his fingers.

  “What makes you so sure I want to stay?”

  He held her gaze as he reached for her knotted fingers. Turning one of her hands over in his, he held it in his lap, his thumb pressing firmly over her inner wrist. Suddenly aware of her own racing pulse, her spine sagged a little in defeat.

  “Fine. So I want you,” she snapped at him, annoyed for no good reason except that she couldn’t seem to keep anything to herself. In an instant, her irritation deflated. He was being up front and clear with her. She could respond in kind. “J.D., don’t you see that it’s just goi
ng to make things worse?”

  He shook his head, the tips of his dark hair swinging against the side of his face. “I don’t think it has to.”

  It was suddenly urgent to her that he understand something. She barely noticed that she was the one holding his hands now.

  “J.D., I know it was just a kid’s crush, how I felt about you when we were younger. But it was still something that took me a long time to get over.” It was painful, this honesty, but she needed to say it out loud. If only to remind herself of what was at stake. “And I did get over it. Crazy as the last few days have been, I can walk away from you right now and I’ll be fine. Mistakes happen.”

  “Mistakes happen. Ouch,” he said, a lopsided smile sparking and dying on his face.

  “We both know this wasn’t something we would’ve done under any other circumstances,” she said. She took a deep breath. It was like tearing a Band-Aid off and exposing a fresh wound. “I can walk away now. But if I stay.” He just waited and that made it easier to admit to the truth. “If I stay, there’s no way this…attraction I feel for you won’t end up turning into something more.”

  “Okay,” he nodded and a sharp pang of disappointment flew through her. But then he dropped his eyes to their intertwined hands and looked right back at her. “That’s okay.”

  For the first time, she raised her voice.

  “It’s not okay with me. Don’t you get it? I can’t be divorcing you and falling in love with you at the same time!”

  She squeezed her eyes shut in horror at the words that had spilled out of her mouth. When he pulled back from her, she pushed her hands against the floor, ready to stand up and make as graceful an exit as she could after humiliating herself so thoroughly.

  Only to open her eyes and see him holding a glass of water out to her.

  She grabbed it and gulped it down. Finishing, she gasped for air and found that he was still sitting with her, still smiling at her.

  “I’m not saying it won’t be an unusual beginning to a relationship.” Her short bark of laughter gave him only a moment’s pause. He lifted his hands in a mea culpa. “Hey, I said unusual. But those technical, legal details don’t have to have anything to do with us, do they?”

  “I don’t see how a divorce can possibly not involve the husband and wife.”

  “Simple. We let someone else, the lawyers, handle all that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t at least explore this thing between us, whatever it turns out to be.”

  “And you don’t think we should ‘explore it’—” she used air quotes “—over coffee, perhaps? Instead of in bed together?”

  “I could settle for coffee, but if we’re,” he seemed to struggle with the word, “married, why take a backward step now? I’ve been connected to you and your family for years now. This is just…a newer way to be together.”

  She fisted her hands in her hair and tugged hard. Why did it sound so reasonable when he said it? She knew there was something about what he said that was a bad, bad idea for her, but she just couldn’t remember what it was. It probably had something to do with her mushy brain and a long day of travel on little sleep, but arguing with him felt like struggling through quicksand.

  A wave of exhaustion rolled over her. She shook her head, lifted one hand in the air and then dropped it. Shaking her head some more, she covered her eyes with her hands and pressed hard.

  “Arguing with yourself now?” He sounded amused.

  “I’m too tired to keep coming up with reasons why this is a bad idea,” she said. Even as she said it, she knew she was agreeing to stay.

  “Good.” He pulled her by the shoulders until she sat between his raised knees, her back against his chest, the fire in front of them. “Then my plan has worked.”

  “What? The talk her to death until she can’t think straight and goes along with whatever I say plan?” She tried to sound resentful, but couldn’t quite manage it. If she was being honest with herself, there was nowhere else she wanted to be than right here with J.D.

  “Exactly.” He started to work on the buttons of her coat. She let him, curving her hands around his knees to give him better access. The fire was more than halfway to hypnotizing her when she felt soft kitty fluff brush up against her. “And look who’s decided to join us at last.”

  It was the stray cat, rubbing the top of her head against Sarah’s hand. She kept still for a minute before sliding her hand lightly along the cat’s side, feeling the heavy weight of the kittens through the animal’s newly healthy coat. After a few minutes she was satisfied.

  “Seems like she’s doing well. And she’s certainly friendlier, which is a good sign. But don’t be surprised if she vanishes on you when she has the kittens. She’ll probably hole up somewhere she feels safe.” Yawning hugely, she leaned her head back and rested it on J.D.’s shoulder. “Make sure to keep her out of your studio, if you don’t want to have kittens in there for months.”

  “Duly noted.” His hands stroked her hair in a slow rhythm that had her sliding toward oblivion. Her eyes had already drifted shut when he gave her shoulders a little shake and pushed her forward.

  “Come on, sleepy. Let’s put you to bed.”

  “But the driver—”

  “Taken care of.”

  She watched him pull a metal screen in front of the fire and waited for him to turn and steer her up the stairs. She felt as if all independent will had seeped out of her body. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked.

  “Not very romantic. Sorry,” she said between yawns. He squeezed her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, keeping a hand against the small of her back as he followed her up the stairs.

  “I’m not in it just for the romance.”

  “That’s good,” she managed to get out by the time they reached his bedroom. She crawled onto the bed, kicking off her shoes on the way, and then let J.D. undress her like a child before he turned off the lights, stripped and slid into bed next to her. Curving his body around hers like a comma, he kissed her shoulder, cupped a possessive hand around her breast and settled into the mattress.

  “Sleep well, Sarah.”

  “Mmm.”

  When the ringing phone finally penetrated her sleep-fogged brain sometime in the night, she smacked her hand around on the bedside table, groping at the flat surface. A warm, heavy weight vaguely registered behind her.

  Where was her damn phone, and who the hell was rude enough to be calling? If it was work, she wasn’t on the clock until 8:00 a.m.

  Finding something that felt like a cell phone, she pulled it under the comforter, swiping and tapping until the ringing stopped and someone spoke far too loudly in her ear.

  “Hello?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

  “Sarah?”

  Her eyes shot wide open in the dark. With a sinking feeling, she pulled the phone away from her ear.

  Shit. Not hers.

  This couldn’t possibly be happening.

  “Sarah?”

  Even now that she was holding the phone as far as possible away from her, as if distance would save her, she could still hear her brother’s voice shouting from the handset.

  “Sarah? Why haven’t you called? You were supposed to get home tonight.” She could hear the gears grinding in his brain as details slotted into place. Wait for it. “And what the hell are you doing answering J.D.’s phone?”

  Yup.

  So much for keeping things from her brother.

  Chapter Eight

  Something was hissing at him.

  J.D. buried his head deeper under the pillow. He felt the warm body next to him, recognized it as Sarah’s in some corner of his brain and pulled her closer.

  Took a sharp elbow to the chin for his efforts and cursed out loud.

  Someone ripped the pillow off his head, flooding the room with unbearably bright light.

  Shading his squinting eyes against the bedside lamp with one hand, he saw the phone she wa
s thrusting at him and growled at her as he snatched it from her hand. Sarah was holding the covers over her naked torso.

  He enjoyed the yelp he got when he yanked them down and rolled over to lie on top of her.

  “What?” he barked into the phone. Her muffled words were beginning to register with him when the voice exploded out of the handset.

  “J.D., what the fuck is my sister doing answering your phone at three o’clock in the morning?” his best friend’s voice blasted in his ear. The squirming, naked woman beneath him was distracting, but he suddenly felt wide-awake. “Don’t answer that. I’m coming over right now to kick your ass.”

  He laid the phone on the bed next to him and shifted so that Sarah’s face was visible beneath him. Her hair spilled over the white sheets like ink and her eyes widened as he leaned down and kissed her mouth. He took his time about it, tasting her, testing her, with slow sleepy strokes of his tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened to him, validating his decision to talk her into staying with him the previous night.

  “Hey,” he murmured and rubbed his nose against hers. The phone was still squawking on the bed next to them.

  “Hey, yourself.” She lifted her chin and pressed a soft kiss against his mouth before smiling. “Sorry I elbowed you.”

  “I’m tough. I can take it.” He narrowed his eyes at his cell and debated ignoring it altogether in favor of kissing his way down every inch of Sarah’s body. “I suppose I’d better talk to him.”

  “I’m not doing it.” She pulled her head back. “In fact, I’m moving to Costa Rica. Tomorrow.”

  “Chicken.”

  “You know what a pain in the ass he is.”

  “It’s all in how you handle him, babe.” He snagged the phone and caught his friend midtirade. “Tyler.” An uninterrupted flow of curses and threats. “Tyler.” No change. “Christopher Robin! Yeah, I said it. Now shut up. We got back tonight and were too tired to remember to call anyone,” he said into the silence of a grown man planning how to rip his limbs off. “You can come over here right now—” he pushed a pillow at Sarah’s face as she squeaked and spluttered “—but you’ll just be yelling at the lamppost outside. Or you can save your temper tantrum and kick my ass tomorrow at a decent hour over lunch. I’ll buy.”