by Sarah Morgan
So close, so close...
His tongue was in her mouth, his kiss hot, searching and so insanely skilled she felt sorry for all the women in the world who had never been kissed by Jake. She felt that kiss shimmer through her body, connecting to someplace deep inside her. And she kissed him back, consumed by desire, her fingers locked in the silky spikes of his hair, dragging his head to hers, terrified in case he changed his mind, in case he stopped. She’d dreamed about this so many times and it had been frustrating because she’d never been able to totally imagine what it would be like. There was an elusive quality to Jake, a hardness, a hint of sexual experience that she knew would make being with him different from her few other encounters. And it was different. She inhaled him and he inhaled her, his mouth devouring hers as if she were the last thing he was ever going to taste before his life ended. The kiss was tinged with hints of desperation, colored by their personal history, made intimate by their knowledge of each other. It was the most intense, shockingly personal connection of her life. She’d imagined his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, so many times, but not even the most erotic of her daydreams had ever come close to the reality.
She never wanted it to end.
And it showed no signs of ending. He kissed her as if he couldn’t stop himself. His palm held her breast, and then slid down and curved over her thigh and he lifted her leg until she had no choice but to wrap it around his back. Her shoe fell to the floor with a soft clatter. Still he kissed her, but now his hand slid lower, between her parted thighs, to the access he himself had created. She felt the brush of his hand against her bare thigh, the touch of his fingers against sensitive, quivering flesh.
Her body was already close to exploding.
Somewhere in the distance there was a metallic, grinding noise and then the sound of voices came from somewhere above her head. Jake pulled away from her with a rough sound and straightened her clothes in a single movement.
The fact that he could move at all proved he was more together than she was.
Paige stood, disorientated, trying to regain her balance, and then heard the voices again, closer this time.
“Are you all right?”
No she wasn’t all right.
Except—
She frowned as she realized what she was feeling was no longer panic.
“Yeah, we’re good.” Jake’s voice was as raw as his kisses had been seconds earlier. His gaze was fixed on hers and his hand, that same hand that had almost driven her wild, smoothed her hair gently. “How’s it looking up there? Any chance of getting us out of here?”
“Working on it right now.”
A moment ago Paige had been desperate to escape, but now she would happily have died right here in this small confined space, provided Jake was with her. Her lips tingled, her skin ached and throbbed. Everything felt unfinished, as if he’d taken her apart, unraveled her, but forgotten to put her back together. She felt like one of Frankie’s half-built models.
Jake bent to retrieve her shoe and his jacket and she stared at his profile, at those perfect angular lines and masculine bone structure, wondering what he was thinking, searching for signs that she wasn’t the only one feeling this way.
Whatever happened next, there was no more pretending that he didn’t feel anything for her.
There was a clatter and a scrap of metal against metal, and then two maintenance men were peering down at them.
“You guys were quick.” Jake slid his jacket back on and looked up at them. Calm. In control. “Did you bring a ladder?” His voice sounded steady. Normal. Nothing like the voice that had, only moments earlier, woven her insides into a mesh of insane desire as he’d made her aware of his intentions.
Somehow she slid her foot back into her shoe and Jake urged her toward the ladder. “Can you climb?” There was a rough edge to his tone and she felt the warmth of his hand on her back.
“Yes.” She climbed, conscious that he was beneath her, probably with a perfect view up her skirt where his hand had been only minutes earlier.
What happened after that blurred. She remembered laughing with the maintenance men, making some quip, assuring a few waiting guests that she was fine, and then somehow plucking up the courage to follow Jake into a different elevator, this time with a crowd of people, and travel down to the foyer.
Jake made polite conversation with someone eager for his opinion on a new piece of computer software.
He didn’t look at her.
She didn’t look at him.
Outside the building his driver was waiting, and he opened the door for Paige to step inside the warmth of the car.
Now what?
Would he kiss her in the car or would he take her home?
Her heart was pounding with anticipation, but instead of following, he leaned inside. “Gavin will drop you home. Get some sleep.”
That was it? That was all he was going to say? “You’re not coming?”
“I’ll walk.” His tone was neutral. “It’s a nice evening. The fresh air will do me good.”
In other words he didn’t want to get in the car with her.
They’d virtually set fire to the elevator shaft and he wasn’t even going to mention it?
That was it?
She sat, bemused, trying to make sense of it. Through a cloud of questions she heard the door of the car slam shut and heard him exchange a few words with the driver.
“Take her home, Gavin... Yeah, right to the door and wait until she’s inside. I want to know she’s okay.”
Paige stared straight ahead. She wasn’t okay.
She was not okay!
What had just happened?
Had she imagined the kiss in the elevator? Had she imagined that raw passion?
She touched her fingers to her mouth. Her lips still tingled and the sensitive skin on her cheeks was a little sore from the rough scrape of his jaw.
No, she hadn’t imagined any of it.
Was he really trying to pretend nothing had happened?
Jake kissed a lot of women—she knew that.
But he didn’t kiss her.
He never, ever kissed her.
So what happened next?
CHAPTER NINE
If you can’t stand the heat, remove a layer of clothing.
—Eva
“SO WAS IT ROMANTIC?” Eva was dancing around the apartment in her pajamas, headphones covering her ears and her hair wrapped in foil when Paige arrived home twenty minutes later.
“It wasn’t a date—it was a venue visit.” Paige dropped her keys on the table, her head still reeling. She studied her friend in disbelief. “You look like something from another planet. What happened to your hair?”
“Mmm?” Eva swayed her hips and her head to a rhythm only she could hear and Paige tugged off one of the earphones.
“Until you learn to lip-read you have to take these off when you’re having a conversation.”
Eva slid them down to her neck. “I’m pampering myself. Coconut oil hair mask. It’s a miracle and magic all-in-one package. You should try it. Leaves your hair feeling like silk. In my case, rumpled silk.”
“It will take more than a miracle and magic to sort out my problems.” Tired and confused, Paige slid off her shoes, made her way to the bathroom, pulled her dress over her head and stepped into the shower.
By the time she emerged, Eva had made tea and was curled up on Paige’s bed.
“Tell me about the problems.”
Paige flicked on the light by the bed.
How had it happened? Who had started it? She couldn’t even remember. One minute she’d been panicking, the next they’d been kissing like maniacs.
She felt a flash of horror.
It was so unprofessional.
“This event—” Her voice was urgent. “It has to be the best thing we’ve ever done.”
“Of course. It will be brilliant. You’ve never organized anything that hasn’t been brilliant. What happened? Sit down and talk t
o me.” Eva patted the bed, her eyes kind. “Jake didn’t like the venue?”
“I—” She realized she didn’t know. “I didn’t ask him.”
“But that was why you went tonight, wasn’t it? To show him the venue. Was everything all right?”
“Yes. It was great. Beautiful.” Romantic. Oh crap, it had been romantic. With the whole city spread before them, sparkling like a tray of diamonds at Tiffany’s.
“Good.” Eva curled her fingers around her mug. “So did whoever kissed you kiss you at the beginning of the night or the end?”
“What makes you think someone kissed me?”
“The stubble graze on your cheek is a little clue, as well as the fact that there is no trace of lipstick anywhere on your face and the only time I ever see you without lipstick is when you’re asleep.” Eva put down her mug of tea. “I’m the first to admit that numbers challenge me, but I’m fluent in body language and the language of love and you’re showing all the signs of someone who has been thoroughly, deliciously kissed by a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Tell me everything.”
What was there to say? “It’s late—we should get some sleep.”
“We both know you’re not going to sleep after that kiss, and I won’t sleep until you tell me everything I want to know, so you might as well satisfy my curiosity. And anyway, this coconut smelly thing has to stay on my hair for ten more minutes or it won’t work and I’m not spending all that money for nothing.” She nudged Paige with her shoulder and picked up her mug again. “Go on. Who was it? Are you seeing the guy again? And how did you manage to ditch Jake?”
She could lie, but Eva knew her too well.
“It was Jake.”
Eva choked on her tea. “You kissed Jake? Our Jake?”
“He kissed me. We kissed each other. I don’t know. It was—confusing. The elevator broke down. We were trapped.”
“Trapped?” Instantly understanding, Eva reached for her hand. “You hate being enclosed. That must have been awful for you.”
“It was. Until Jake kissed me.”
“That is so romantic.”
“It wasn’t. I—” Paige frowned. “I don’t know what it was, Ev. It was—it was—”
“It was what? It was gentle? Brotherly? Comforting? He kissed you as though—?”
“—as though I’d died and he was trying to bring me back to life.”
Eva stared at her. “Holy crap. That’s the kind of kiss I dream about. The-world-is-ending-so-let’s-just-kiss-all-the-way-through-it kind of kiss. Didn’t I tell you that kissing Jake should be on everyone’s bucket list? I can always tell when a man is going to be a good kisser and I bet Jake is an expert.”
Paige thought back. “I don’t know why.”
“Well, he’s had loads of practice of course, but I think some men are born with great kissing DNA and have natural talent. I bet Jake is one of those. He’s the sort who pays attention.”
“I meant I don’t know why he kissed me.”
“Oh.” Eva blinked. “Presumably because he wanted to. What happened next? I need to know the ending. Don’t keep me hanging on—I’m terrible with cliff-hangers.”
“There is no ending.”
“There has to be an ending. He looked deep into your eyes and said, ‘This isn’t over, Paige’?”
“No. He said, ‘Gavin will drop you home. Get some sleep.’”
Eva looked taken aback. “That’s it? He was silent for the whole trip home? He didn’t smolder at you, reach for your hand or say ‘We’ll talk about this tomorrow,’ in that deep, sexy voice that makes you want to leap on him and strip him naked right down to the bone marrow?”
“I was on my own in the car. He walked home.” And that was the part that confused her most.
The bedroom door opened and Frankie walked in. “I heard you come home. Wanted to check everything went smoothly.”
“Jake kissed her. You missed the details.” Eva wiped a drop of coconut mask from her cheek. “I’m confused about why he walked home by himself.”
“That makes two of us.” Paige flopped back against the pillows. “I have no idea what’s going on. I kept waiting for him to say something and he didn’t. We virtually set fire to the building and he didn’t mention it.”
Frankie looked confused. “You set fire to the building?”
“With the kiss. And of course he didn’t mention it. He’s a guy.” Eva shifted on the bed and the scent of coconut wafted around the room. “Work. Sex. Beer. Sport. Big noisy engines. Anything that moves fast. That’s their world. Emotions are this murky, dangerous thing hovering in the background like bad weather they hope will pass them by.”
Frankie joined them on the bed. “That is generalizing, not to mention sexist.”
“It’s the truth. You always tease me, but I understand men better than you think.” Eva put down her empty mug. “If they can’t drill a hole in it, have sex with it, get drunk on it, kick it around a field, or watch it on a massive screen, they’re mostly not interested. That’s the way the male brain is programmed.”
Paige blinked. “Matt isn’t like that.”
“Of course he is! And he’s cleverer than most because he found a job that uses power tools. I mean, he could delegate but I’ve often seen him rigged up, drilling holes in concrete or sawing through tree trunks to make garden seats. He owns a tool belt. Does he have to do it? No, but blasting apart masonry and chopping down trees is one of the fun parts of the job, so he’s not going to delegate that bit. Come on, wake up.” Eva looked at her in exasperation. “I know he’s your brother but he has a man cave, Paige, complete with cinema screen, Xbox, weights I can’t even lift off the ground and a fridge full of beer. He has poker nights. Poker nights are an excuse for men to have conversations they wouldn’t have in front of women. I rest my case.”
Paige tried to adapt to this new image of her brother. “Sorry, what was your case?”
Frankie laughed. “Don’t train to be a lawyer, Ev. By the time you reached the end of your argument the jury would have forgotten the beginning.”
“I was saying that what Paige did with Jake didn’t fit neatly into any of those categories. I understand why he was confused.”
“He didn’t look confused. He looked—” She thought back to it. “He looked normal.” And she hadn’t wanted him to be. “I was the one who was confused. Still am. So what happens now? I might see him in the office. I will see him in the office. Do I mention it? Do I not mention it?”
“Who started it? Who made the first move? Him or you?”
“I don’t know. One minute we were trapped and I was stressed, and then he held me for a moment and it just happened.”
“So it was him. He made the first move. Wow. I wish I could have seen that. Sounds like that movie with Cary Grant and—anyway, never mind. That’s good, because he won’t be able to say you were the one who put the moves on him. So what should you do? Mmm—give me a minute while I think.”
Frankie made an impatient sound. “Just ask him!”
“Ask him?”
“Yes! Walk into his office and say, why the hell did you kiss me? It’s called communication!”
Paige stared at her.
“Frankie might be right.” Eva slid off the bed. “I need to wash this thing out of my hair or tomorrow when you wake me up you’ll find a gnarled coconut in the bed. Go to sleep and have really dirty dreams.”
“I think the term you’re looking for is sweet dreams.”
“No. Those are boring. Dirty ones are much better. And don’t waste all night thinking about it or you’ll look tired tomorrow, and you don’t want to give Jake the satisfaction of knowing he gave you a sleepless night.”
“Does that advice come straight from the Eva school of dating?”
“Maybe, but it’s all theory, of course. I haven’t had a practical session in a long time, but I’m working on that. In fact I have a date tomorrow.”
“You do?” Grateful for the distraction,
Paige tried to push Jake to the back of her mind. “Who? Not that guy who hit on you in the street the other day?”
“No.” Eva blushed. “Someone else. He’s NYPD.”
“You’re dating a cop? How did you meet him?”
“Well, I managed to lock myself out of the apartment a few days ago. He happened to be passing and spotted me trying to climb in through Frankie’s window. He stopped to help me. Actually, I think he stopped to arrest me, but once he realized I was clueless about breaking and entering, he helped me. We swapped numbers and today he called.”
“Is he hot?”
“I don’t know. He wears a uniform,” Eva said simply. “Every man looks hot in uniform.”
“We should make a plan.”
Growing up, they’d always made a plan when one of them had a date. Because Paige was often in hospital, it was something they did to pass the time when Eva and Frankie were keeping her company. They’d bring in dresses, make-up and plan the whole date.
“My plan is to get some sleep.” Frankie stood up, too. “First thing tomorrow, go and ask Jake why he put his tongue down your throat.”
Paige gave a weak smile. “I might word it differently.”
“Fine.” Frankie shrugged. “But don’t word it so differently he doesn’t understand the question.”
* * *
IN HIS OFFICE, Jake was sprawled at his desk, trying to wrap his brain around a creative content issue. He looked at the problem again, played with a few ideas on his screen and came to the conclusion that his team had done a good job. There were a few refinements he might have added, but those could be inserted in the next phase when they rolled it out.
All he had to do now was talk the client through it and get their buy in.
This was the part of the job he loved. The sparring.
He took a bottle of water from the fridge beneath his desk and drank. It had been a complicated brief. At the moment, their solution was a little too complex for the client to grasp, but he’d fix that. One of his skills was to translate technology into something a six-year-old could understand. And most CEOs, in his experience, had a lot in common with six-year-olds. When this was launched, their business would increase. Again. There would be more enquiries, more business, an increased flow of money. The thought of it soothed him. As long as the money was flowing unimpeded, a river in full flood and not a dried-up riverbed, he was happy.