She cringed inwardly. The Voice of Reason, so often ignored in her chaotic life, expressed its own eye-rolling distaste. Do you ever... and I do mean *ever* actually take the risk of *thinking* before you speak? ‘You can warm my ass...’ For heaven’s sake. You’re not even drunk!
Jake seemed either to remember her penchant for blurting out the least appropriate comment, or was content to be quietly amused, reacting with another indulging smile. Megan’s embarrassment eased only as they found a parking space in one of central Boston’s quiet back streets. Jake offered his arm and they walked together down to the street level and around the corner, dodging the early-evening dinner and theater crowds. The city was very alive at this hour, a pleasant late-spring air having brought out locals and students for food and a walk on the Common.
Circus wasn’t heaving quite yet, but it was nearly full. A trendy, blue-lit place with scatterings of grouped chairs around tall, circular tables, the place was dominated by an elongated, curved bar around which a growing throng was trying, with mixed success, to get the barman’s attention. Jake spoke quietly to the hostess, a blonde bombshell in an outrageously slinky green number who escorted the pair to their table, as quiet as one could hope for amid the early-evening din.
“Are you here a lot?” Megan asked, noting that Jake seemed familiar with the hostess. And immediately wondering if that was a personal, or merely a professional connection.
“A few times a month,” he replied. “One of my software partners introduced it to me as his favorite place for pre-dinner drinks.” Megan wondered how many flustered trainee nurses his ‘software partner’ had brought here. Looking around, she noticed that a lot of the clientele were wearing the value of her student debt. Jake though, seemed to be reading her mind. “You look terrific tonight,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing something so...”
Megan let it hang in the air. “So...?”
Jake checked himself, laughed self-consciously. “I was going to say, ‘so grown up’, but then we’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we?”
Megan glanced at the menu distractedly. “You’d have to say, ‘on and off’ for a long time. You do have a habit of disappearing.” Most of the drinks cost enough to buy a major nursing textbook.
“The curse of my profession,” he said, almost sadly. “Tom takes care of the technology. I’m in charge of the presentation,” he added with a flourish. “These days, it won’t sell unless it’s smarter than Einstein, smaller than the competition, or just plain old sexy.”
Megan picked her drink. “Which one of those three are you?” Will. You. Shut. Up.
“Either number one, or number three, but definitely not number two,” he assured her. “As for the products, it’s always true that sex sells better than science,” he said with a brief, unconscious but all too obvious glance at the hostess’ delectable curves.
“And what does that say about us? As consumers?” Megan asked.
Jake made his own selection and lowered his menu. “That we’re human. And that we know what we want.”
The waitress arrived. Jesus, do they hire exclusively supermodels for this place, or has Boston’s pool of floor staff suddenly gotten a lot sexier? “Good evening,” the waitress said cheerily, placing coasters in front of them both. “What can I get for you to begin?”
Jake motioned to Megan. “A dry martini,” she said confidently. “Extra dirty.” She watched as Jake raised an amused eyebrow.
You don’t even know what that means. You just wanted him to hear you say it. God, you’re damaged.
“Certainly,” the waitress purred. “And for you, Sir?”
“Macallan, 1824. Neat, no ice.” He quickly added, “Please”.
“Coming right up,” the young woman assured them, returning to the bar with the air of someone whose tips would pay the week’s rent in this one evening.
Megan glanced back at her menu before closing it up. “A ninety dollar whiskey? A Lamborghini? Don’t tell me you haven’t changed since you were the nerdy teenager I thought had the hots for me.”
“Well, some things don’t change,” Jake said. Megan stared at him, and he looked thoughtfully back at her across the table. Then, as though a switch had been flipped, his charming smile returned. “I loved sports cars, even back then.”
Megan resisted, only barely, the urge to kick his shin under the table. “You must have seen a lot of the world by now,” she said, changing the subject. “Weren’t you somewhere in Asia last week?” Googling him had revealed more than salacious photos; he was truly an international presence.
“Kuala Lumpur,” Jake confirmed. “Tom needs a reliable source for a suite of servo motors.” Megan’s reaction was a blank stare. “They control the fine movements of robot arms for his new space station experiment.”
The blankness turned to amazement. “Tom’s going into space?”
His first real laugh of the evening was sweetly resonant, a genuine and pleasing sound. Even if it’s because I’m a dimwit, I do kinda like making him laugh. “I’m afraid not, although plenty of people would love to see him go. He’s building an experiment in automated repair for the International Space Station. The big solar panels are wearing out and space walks would be too dangerous.”
Their drinks arrived, the waitress doing her best to neither let Jake know that she recognized him, nor that she’d gladly take him home if his date didn’t work out. “Thank you,” he said, and then followed her with his eyes. Her back was revealed almost in its entirety by a dress so low-cut it barely seemed there at all.
“Just Malaysia, this time?” Megan asked, taking the first sip of her perfectly mixed martini.
Jake tried his scotch and took a long moment to enjoy its expensively, expertly created nose. “We tacked on a few days in Singapore, and hit Tokyo on the way back for a technology Expo. Lots of fun.”
“Do you ever bring anyone with you?” Megan asked conversationally. “One of your girlfriends?” His eyebrows rose. “I mean... I mean, I don’t mean that you...” She stopped, flustered, as Jake cocked his head slightly.
Megan was nervous for all six of the seconds it took for Jake to compose his reply. “What are the bloggers saying?” he asked, his tone laced with a hint of acid.
“I don’t believe most of that stuff,” she said. It was their first truly awkward moment. Neither of them could hide the reputation he had earned for himself, no matter that the denizens of the Internet frequently made much of little. “Anyway, It’s your right to see whoever you want.”
“Well,” he said, taking a large slug of his drink. “I’m not seeing anyone right now.”
“OK,” Megan said simply.
“I haven’t seen anyone seriously for quite a while.”
“Me neither,” she said, normally keen to avoid discussing her own love life, but finding it preferable to the embarrassment of exploring Jake’s.
The tension lifted and Jake smiled warmly. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Makes perfect sense to me,” she said, rather glumly. “I’m run off my feet, the bags under my eyes...”
He held up a hand. “You look great.” Megan shrugged slightly. “In fact, and certainly in that dress, you look wonderful.”
Megan’s emotional system had gone from panic to hubris to elation in seconds and she was finding it hard to keep up. “I bet you say that to all the...”
Another raised hand. “Sorry, but I’ve heard you do this for a long time. You’re hard on yourself,” he explained calmingly. “And there’s no need to be. Besides, everyone knows the reputation that nurses have.”
Oh, we’re back to flirting like a pair of horny teenagers are we? Well, I’m game...
“And you believe it?”
Jake drained the last of his scotch. “I’m sure most of the ladies in your class are capable of being just as dirty as your martini.”
Megan burst out laughing while Jake signaled for the check. “Can I tempt yo
u with a bite to eat? There’s a new Italian place which had some great reviews.”
Megan simmered down and considered her next move. Seconds apart, a number of notions made their case. I said one drink, and this would be breaking that rule. But he’s cute, he’s making me laugh, and I haven’t put my foot too badly in my mouth. Yet.
“I have an early start in the morning,” she found herself saying.
“I understand,” he said, disappointed. “What if I promised to have you home before the Lamborghini turns into a pumpkin?”
Oh, you smooth, handsome, exceedingly wealthy devil. OK... OK... But Erica’s still dead wrong about the underwear thing.
“Promise?”
Jake left cash for the check, rose and offered his arm. “Promise.”
* * *
“My mother always said,” Megan related to Jake between mouthfuls of dessert, “that if you needed to set fire to the food for it to taste good, it wasn’t good to start with.”
Jake took another spoonful of his slender but outrageously rich slice of gateaux. “And was she right, when it comes to bananas flambé?”
Megan closed her eyes for a long moment as the seared, delicate fruit melted into pure sweetness on her tongue. “No. She was as wrong as she was about being a nurse. And playing the piano. And dating boys on a school night. And, oh, pretty much everything.”
Jake set down his fork, as full as he needed to be, despite the call of the sensuous chocolate cake before him. “The mistakes of our parents are the most important part of the instruction manual.”
“Interesting,” Megan said, resting her own fork next to the nearly-demolished bananas. “Who said that?”
Jake seemed confused that she didn’t already know the answer. “I did. Just now.”
He had been making her laugh so regularly, and so easily, that she had worried people might think she’s had too much of the excellent red which sat, empty, between them. It had cost an extravagant sum, easily dismissed by the loquacious Jake.
He caught the waiter’s attention yet again and ordered Limoncello. “Can I offer you an espresso also?”
Megan, for all the promises to herself that this would be one drink, and then home, was feeling on top form after her martini and three glasses of the fantastic red. “Woah, slow down there. You’re not trying to get me drunk and...”
“Perish the thought,” Jake answered, ordering two coffees from the cheerful and endlessly helpful waiter.
Actually, I don’t think I will let it perish. I think I’ll entertain it, just for a second.
OK, for a lot longer than a second.
It had emerged, over the previous hour or so, that Erica’s prediction was gaining credibility by the moment. Megan was as surprised and amused as she was intrigued and aroused to find that, during her most recent bathroom visit, she would have done well to slip an extra pair of panties into her purse tonight. It had been longer than she could remember since merely talking and flirting with a cute guy had created such excitement between her legs. She narrowly decided to dry them quickly and pull her panties back on rather than go commando for the rest of the evening, just because the chances of further precipitation were so very high.
The waiter set down two small, ornate glasses in front of them, each filled with an opaque, light-yellow liquor.
“Wow...” Megan exclaimed as the tangy gush of lemon hit her tongue. “That’s incredible...”
“From Capri, home of the real deal when it comes to Limoncello. I developed a bit of a taste for it while I was traveling over there.”
It was remarkable to Megan how Jake could drop an exotic, foreign trip into the conversation without sounding boastful. In fact, he sounded more as though he felt genuinely lucky to have had such amazing chances to see the world. Since they had taken their seats in La Taverna, a new eatery committed to authenticity and a quietly romantic ambience, he had mentioned trips to almost all of the world’s continents but managed never to sound arrogant about it. Instead, he came across as a smart, fortunate, unashamedly populist front-man, a spokesperson for the staggering novelties of the 21st century. His playboy reputation was certainly not entirely fabricated, but he had nevertheless been maligned by a jealous media. At least, that was what Megan decided to believe.
There was so much more to wonder about. Was he capable of settling down? Could he be made happy by someone with so comparatively simple aspirations as Megan? Might she be able to offer him something which all of his wealth could not provide? And, Megan wondered in the bathroom as she marveled at her wetness: was she actually going to go home with him?
The Limoncello sang its sweet song and Jake told her stories of Venice and Capri, of Salzburg at Christmas time and of visiting Einstein’s birthplace in Ulm, Germany. He cracked her up with the story of his first Lederhosen experience at Oktoberfest. There wasn’t a single mention of a girlfriend or a tabloid news story or a fake Internet scandal. There was just this charming and disarming young man, a fascinating evolution of the teenager she had known.
“Do you like being rich?” she had found the boldness to ask.
“Sure,” Jake replied, waving for the check. “There are a lot of perks. A lot of responsibilities too. Mostly, though, I just want to do something good with these opportunities.”
“Like what?”
“Like, I don’t know, put food on tables where it’s needed. Like build a school where there isn’t one.”
Oh. My. God. First, it’s Playboy Jake the entrepreneur globetrotter with the sexy body and the flashy car. Now it’s Saint Jake of Cambridge, finder of lost children and friend to the poor. Megan felt a new flush of excitement. There’s something I never knew about myself: Charity makes me horny.
“All while having a fantastic time,” Megan added.
Jake signed the check, avoiding any ostentatious flaunting of his black credit card. “What’s the point,” he asked her, “if you’re not having fun?”
“Exactly.”
As the distinctive shape of the Lamborghini eased into late-night traffic, Jake glanced over at Megan. In his estimation, she was happily smiling, slightly inebriated and unashamedly impressed. Even so, he was as nervous as he had been in a long while about what came next.
“Where to, my lady?”
Megan packed away her compact and checked her hair in the mirror. Looking fine, Megs. Real fine. But what the hell do I say now?
“You’re driving, Jake. You can decide.” She smiled a sultry, flirty smile, not her first this evening, but the only one which carried her true message: for the love of God, take me back to your place.
Jake knew, and nearly broke several traffic laws getting them there. Having his own parking place underneath the building helped, as did the waiting elevator. By the time he was showing her into the apartment, the arm around her waist had become a hand caressing her ass.
“Want me to give you the dime tour?” Jake asked as he closed the door behind them. Her answer was a confident, sultry smirk which looked so good on Megan’s face that he made his decision, then and there. “Or, maybe, in the morning?”
Megan let him nudge her towards the kitchen, a broad L-shape, and found herself pressed back against one of its black marble counters. Then he was there, his mouth on hers, her hands cradling his head as they unleashed the tension with a deep, urgent kiss. Overwhelmed for a long moment, Megan simply let him explore her mouth with his tongue, let his hands wander up and down her sides, and then welcomed two strong hands on her ass.
“Jake...” She found herself saying out loud the only thing she was thinking. The only thing in the world she wanted. “Jake... Fuck me.”
He kissed her once more, then said, “Here?” and received a nod and more, hungrier kisses in reply. “Now?”
Megan reached down to bring up her dress, none too slowly, to her thighs and then a little higher, showing Jake the black lace panties she was so eager to have removed. “For a smart guy, Jake, you sure need a lot of...”
He
kissed her deeply and she felt his hands at her waist, on her ass, thumbs tugging downward at the band of her panties, at long last peeling them away from her soaked, excited pussy. He knelt down in front of her, the better to watch her secrets being revealed for the first time.
His mouth found her inner thigh and a bolt of excitement rose up Megan’s body as he began kissing her soft, warm skin, an inch or two from her outer lips. Her legs parted of their own accord, welcoming him. Slow, warm kisses were wonderful, highly intimate, but not nearly quick enough for her.
“Jake... kiss me... kiss my pussy.”
The first contact was sublime, a tiny tongue-stroke across her clit which weakened Megan’s knees. Then Jake made love to her wet pinkness with his tongue, a minute of the sheerest pleasure. Stunned, Megan let him feast on her, exploring between her lips, parting them with his fingers for deeper, more personal probing up inside her opening, to hit her g-spot. Each time he explored between her lips, he would return to her clit, licking it up and down before delving back inside her.
“I’m gonna...” Before she could finish, speaking became impossible. Gasping loudly, she let Jake lead her all the way to a knee-bent orgasm, holding her up by her thighs as he finished her by licking her clit, hard and rough. She came for a long, memorable moment, shuddering as he emerged from between her legs, delicately wiping his chin.
“I’ve never... God, Jake.” Megan’s breathing was ragged and uncontrolled, her dress pulled up high, her wetness now running down her inner thighs.
Jake loosened his belt and attracted Megan’s eyes downward with his own. “Never come from being kissed there?” he asked.
Megan shook her head. “Never.” It was as though she had doubted it was possible. But not now.
“Well, let’s see if you can cum from being fucked in my kitchen.” He took Megan’s hand and, together, they pulled down his pants and underwear, revealing a huge and deliciously erect manhood. Then he placed her hand on him and closed his eyes as she began to stroke him, rubbing his precum across his tip with her thumb.
“Oh, Jake... This is going to be amazing...”
Racing Heart (The Billionaire Brothers 1) Page 3