by Lauren Smith
Please, please don’t be here to rob me…
4
The figure at the end of the hall turned to face her, the flickering lights revealing half of his features as he moved toward her. Terror spiked through Felicity, and she swallowed down a wave of panic. Her feet and legs refused to move in sync, and she fell flat on her backside, backpack flying and cell phone smacking the hard carpet.
“Princess? What are you doing on the floor?”
Jared. Thank God, it was Jared. She sucked in a breath as her lungs expanded again. It was Jared.
“What are you doing here?” she growled as she scrambled to her feet and then went to pick up her phone and backpack.
“Lunch.” He held up the flat box he’d been holding with one hand and her gym bag in his other hand. She hadn’t noticed it in her terror.
“Gino’s Pizza?” She licked her lips. Best pizza in the city. She’d only had it once. They didn’t deliver to her place because it was too far away.
“You okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m fine. It’s just that a neighbor got assaulted and robbed last week. Made me a little jumpy,” she admitted softly. Mortification made a pit drop in her stomach. She was acting silly, thinking she’d been in danger.
“What?” Jared barked. “God, I don’t like you staying in a place like this.” He glanced around, a dark frown tugging his full lips down. “But we’ll talk about that later. First you need to eat.”
Jared moved back so she could unlock the door. Her eyes focused on his face. The rich brown of his eyes made her think of coffee with a touch of cream. She’d never been one for coffee, but after gazing into his eyes, she wanted to run to the nearest Starbucks and order a cup.
“Pizza’s getting cold.” He stepped closer, his height impressive and a little intimidating. It threw her off balance every time he got too close.
“Right. Pizza.” She fished her keys out of her backpack and then unlocked the door. They both stepped inside, and when he moved close enough for her to feel his body heat, she shivered. Every part of her in that moment wanted to be back in his bed, his body curled around hers, warm and safe. This morning seemed like a lifetime ago, and she had to remind herself it wouldn’t happen again, no matter how much she might wish it to.
Focusing on the present, she tried not to look at him. Jared Redmond, Mr. Big Shot Lawyer, was in her apartment. Why did that make her feel suddenly self-conscious?
“Stay there,” she begged and hastily attempted a quick cleanup, throwing laundry in her basket, then gathering her textbooks into one corner. She wasn’t messy, but she wasn’t ready for guests, either. If only he’d had the decency to warn her he’d be coming over. Yet again, Felicity silently vowed revenge on her friend, since it seemed Layla’s loose lips had effectively given away Felicity’s address in addition to her phone number.
“Am I allowed to move now?” Jared asked, lips twitching.
“Yes. Sorry, my place is—” She tripped over the corner of her couch and toppled straight into him. His reflexes were so swift that she barely had time to squeak in surprise before she crashed into his chest. He’d dropped her gym bag and swung the pizza away just in time to keep her from crashing into it.
“Your place is fine.” The softness in his tone melted her bones, and she relaxed against him, for only an instant. Then she shoved herself away, muttering an apology.
He headed toward the kitchen. When he was gone, she took her sketchbooks and slid them under her brown leather couch. She drew and painted, but the scenes were private. She didn’t want Jared seeing her exposed through pencil and paper.
The sounds of cupboards opening and closing and plates being set on the counter drew her into the small kitchen. Jared had removed his long black coat and tossed it over the back of one of the two chairs placed on either side of her table. He popped open the lid of the pizza box, and the smell of the special Gino’s sauce hit her nose. The low gurgle of her stomach made him laugh, the sound rich and deep.
“How many slices?” he asked.
“Two, please.” Her face heated as she realized she still felt shy. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
Jared offered her a plate. He looked just as enticing as the pizza, maybe more so. In jeans that hugged his lean hips and the fitted black T-shirt that highlighted his muscular physique, he was a girl’s dream.
“Here, kid.” He chuckled and held her plate out farther. With a jolt she reached for it and darted around him to the table.
She eyed her plate with unrepressed joy. Pizza. God, she loved pizza. The slices were loaded with sausage. Her favorite.
“Hope the toppings are okay.” Jared was filling his own plate. “I should have asked—sorry.” Sliding into the seat next to her, he lifted a slice and took a bite. His eyes closed, and he moaned. “Damn, this is good.”
His reaction had her stifling a giggle. “It is.” She nibbled on her own slice, then finally asked what she’d been wanting to since she’d realized it was him leaning by her door.
“Jared, why are you here?”
Without pausing in his eating, he nodded his head toward her gym bag resting by the door. “Thought I’d return your clothes. Layla and Tanner are enjoying their afternoon. It’s a little…distracting.”
“Distracting?”
“Yeah, you know.” He grinned and nodded toward her bedroom.
“Oh!” Sex. He meant sex. If her face hadn’t been red before, it had to be fire-truck red now.
A rumbling laugh escaped him. “I definitely didn’t want to spend my day off in the next room. Some things you just can’t unhear, you know?”
Felicity snickered, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. Jared reached over and pulled her hand down. “Don’t. I like your laugh.”
“So a day off, huh? What on earth are you going to do?” she asked, surprised and delighted that she could actually tease him.
“I thought I might bring pizza to a girl I know.” As he spoke, he smiled, but it was a strangely boyish, almost bashful smile that knocked her right behind the knees. Her face heated as she realized the power this man had over her. He could turn her to jelly with just a curve of his lips.
“It’s only noon. What are you going to do the rest of the day?” She reached for a napkin at the same time he did, and their fingers touched. Heat blossomed in the wake of that simple connection, and their gazes locked. For a second his eyes darkened to a rich chocolate, and she shivered. Was that desire she saw? Or was it wishful thinking taking over?
“Don’t know. What are you going to do? No more papers I hope.”
She shook her head. “No, luckily it was just the one. I can enjoy my weekend now. I might go see the John Singer Sargent exhibit at the Art Institute.” The words were out of her mouth before she could take them back. She hadn’t meant to share that with him, but something about him made her open up. It was dangerous.
Jared shifted in his seat, his knees bumping into hers under the small rickety table, and the plates rattled. This weekend she really should fix the table legs. He was too big, his frame too tall and his legs too long, to fit at her tiny card table currently serving as a dining table.
“I haven’t been to see anything there in a while. Sounds fun. Want to go after we’re done with lunch?” He pressed his palms on the table, seeming to notice the way it tilted at his touch. A distracted look captured his face as he made the table rock back and forth, clearly displaying the uneven legs.
“Wait…you’re coming with me?” Surely he wasn’t serious?
Shoving his chair back, he got down on his hands and knees, disappearing from her view as he studied the table legs.
“Hey….um…Jared. You don’t have to come.”
“I want to,” his muffled reply came from beneath the table.
This conversation required a face-to-face interaction, she decided, and therefore, she had to resort to getting down on the floor with him. He had one table leg slightly lifted as he shoved a folded
business card under the stubby leg.
“Jared.” When she said his name, he finally looked up. Their faces were so close, and for a second she had the wild urge to close the distance and kiss him. The absurdity of the thought had her balking, and she reared back.
Crack!
Pain exploded through her skull, and she crumpled, clutching her head. “Ow!”
“Easy there, princess. Sounds like that hurt.” Gentle hands clasped her face, his thumbs slightly rough as they stroked her cheeks.
“Yikes,” she moaned. “That really hurt.” She finally opened her eyes to meet his gaze.
“Deep breaths,” he encouraged.
Dark hair fell across his forehead. She was enchanted by its silky appearance and wanted to touch it more than anything in that moment. If her head hadn’t been pounding, she might have succumbed to the temptation and stroked his hair out of his eyes.
Can’t. He’s not yours. She scolded herself for the foolish thought. A guy like Jared was probably into tall, leggy blondes who were armed with fancy school degrees and trust funds. He definitely didn’t date grad student artists.
“Let’s get you out from under here and settled on the couch.” He moved so she could get out from under the table and then escorted her over to the worn leather sofa.
She dropped back onto the cushions and shut her eyes, trying to dispel the throbbing ache on the top of her head. The sounds of ice cubes cracking and the rustle of paper towels drew her attention. When she opened her eyes, Jared was standing in front of her. Without a word, he sat down on the couch next to her and placed a plastic bag of ice wrapped in a paper towel on her head over the tender spot.
“Hmmm.” She winced, and he grimaced at her reaction. “This is so humiliating.” Her eyes darted away from his. The last thing she wanted to see was pity in his gaze.
“You seem to be having a bit of a rough day.” He kept one hand on her head, holding the ice there while his other hand patted her knee. A soft pat, then his hand remained there, his fingers stroking her thigh soothingly.
Shivers of arousal and heat licked their way up her leg to her center, making the blood pound a little harder in her head.
“I’m not a klutz or anything,” she grumbled, shying away, but he didn’t allow her to retreat.
“I’ll believe that when you’ve gone a whole day without injury.”
“So says the lawyer,” she laughed.
“No laughing.” His tone was almost stern, but she didn’t miss the flash of humor in his eyes. “It makes it worse.” And that only had her giggling, then wincing all over again.
“Is bossiness a family trait or a professional trait?” she asked him, lips kicking into a grin as she relished the way he laughed.
“Keep teasing me and you’ll find out.” His husky words were a sensual threat that sent her mind and body spinning in dizzying circles.
They were so close again, his hand still on her thigh, but she didn’t feel the cold wetness anymore. The ice bag lay forgotten on the floor.
So close.
If she just leaned in one more inch, their lips might…
His warm breath fanned her face, and little shivers trekked up and down her body.
Jared’s eyes consumed her, a burning flame that rippled along her skin in heated tendrils. His gaze dropped to her lips. And a second later, he was gone, striding away to the kitchen. He rummaged in the cupboards again. This time when he came back, it was with a glass of water and two aspirin.
“Here.”
She took the pills, popped them into her mouth, and then put the glass to her lips. Taking a big gulp, she watched him over the rim of the glass. Her focus was intense, and she felt cornered between him and the couch.
Licking her lips, she ignored the little rush of nervousness as she gave him back the glass. His fingers curled around the glass, brushing hers. He walked into her kitchen and set the glass in her sink and then turned around to look at her, leaning back on the counter, elbows propped on the edge.
“So, you still up for Sargent?” he asked.
Felicity picked up the bag of ice from the floor and stood. “Yeah, I think so. Looking at art will make my headache go away.”
One of his brows lifted, doubt shadowing his lips in a faint frown.
“I promise. I’m fine.”
He pushed away from the counter and walked over to her. “Okay, princess. Art it is.” He took the ice bag from her and then tossed it in the sink.
“Thanks for everything.” She meant it. The man had taken care of her. She’d always taken care of herself and sometimes, to a small extent, her parents. They’d all had to work hard, and she knew she couldn’t ask her parents to support her when they had it rough.
“You seem surprised.” Jared’s deep baritone was smooth.
She loved his voice. If she closed her eyes, it would pour over her like rich red wine. Sink into her skin, seduce her heart, her mind, her body. Like honey and silk, almost hypnotic. She’d be tempted to do anything he asked with that voice.
“I’m used to taking care of myself. It’s just nice, what you did, I mean.”
He took two long strides to the couch and sat beside her, caging her against the other side. Cupping her cheeks in his hands, he just stared down at her, eyes as dark as cocoa and heavy with concern.
“No one takes care of you?” The words were a low growl, and anger sparked like summer lightning in his eyes.
She managed a quick shake of her head, relieved he wasn’t angry at her.
For a long second, neither of them moved or spoke. He just held her face in his hands and gazed at her. Time seemed to slide away in a silken stream, untouchable, unstoppable, save for his hands on her skin, his eyes holding hers. She’d never wanted anyone to touch her, not like this. Dating and men hadn’t been part of the plan. But Jared… Like a spring rain washing away the dust from winter, she felt free, blessedly free to just be herself.
He broke the spell at last and moved away from her. He bent over the couch and retrieved his coat and slid it on, then held hers out. She stood, legs trembling slightly, as she let him help her into her coat. Such a gentleman. It shouldn’t have surprised her. A smile played upon her lips as her heart gave a funny flip in her chest.
After they were both decked out in scarves and gloves, they left the apartment and caught a cab. When the driver pulled up in front of the Art Institute, Felicity handed Jared the cab money from this morning. He quirked a brow again, lips twitching as he shook his head at her in silent reproach and then paid the fare. She slid out of the seat, and he followed, his body bumping into hers from behind when she didn’t move fast enough. His hands settled on her shoulders with a slight amount of pressure as he caught his balance.
“Sorry,” he murmured in her ear, and then released her.
She couldn’t move right away. Her feet were rooted to the ground. Something about him behind her, whispering in her ear…a quiver of longing and hunger rippled through her. With a little shake she started up the steps after him, dodging the flocks of tourists who posed for pictures. Two bronze lions stood as stalwart guardians of the masterpieces inside. She’d always liked the lions. Something about their noble yet ferocious appearance made her feel safe. Protectors of art, of artists. Like her.
She and Jared were halfway up the stairs when Jared’s gloved hand reached for hers. She paused for a second, shocked and delighted, before she hastily masked her joy. He acted casual, as though he hadn’t just reached for her hand.
Why? She wanted to know why he was doing this, holding her hand, spending time with her, but she was also terrified of what his answer might be. Pity? He’d seen her tiny apartment, the neighborhood she lived in. God, she hoped it wasn’t pity, but why else would he be taking care of her?
He paid for their tickets, only shaking his head when she attempted to pay for herself. It was a silent but physical way to show a mixture of displeasure and amusement at her paying her own way.
Her lips part
ed on a protest, but he only snorted. “No, princess. Don’t even start. You’ve already wounded my male pride.” Flattening a palm on his chest over his heart, he closed his eyes for a second as though he’d been stabbed.
The main galleries were familiar to Felicity as they studied the map of the institute. Each painting hanging on the white walls was like an old friend. She came as often as she could, whenever she felt like she had to escape. The worlds painted on the canvases were a comfort, a promise, like the sounds of birds chattering in the wake of a storm. Seeing the paintings was her birdsong. The reassurance that life could survive even when times were tough.
“Do you want to go straight to Sargent?” Jared asked. His voice pulled her back to him, and like a dewdrop on a finely-spun web, she trickled back to him like he was gravity itself.
“Yes, let’s do it first.” She let him lead her in the direction of the tall banners of a distant gallery that showed the familiar figure of one of Sargent’s portraits. There were skylights above that afforded the galleries a wash of gold that softened into warm yellows as it slid down the white walls.
The exhibit was a collection of his more famous portraits of women in high society. He’d created over nine hundred oil paintings, but this particular exhibit had about sixty. Excitement had her tugging Jared’s hand as she collected an exhibit booklet for each of them and approached the first piece. A lady in a white gown, half-turned as though someone had called her name. The part of the painting that caught everyone’s attention was the long black satin sash that trailed down her back. It cut through the white gown and drew attention to the woman’s willowy figure.
“She’s beautiful.” Jared’s voice was slightly soft and low as though speaking in a church. Reverent.
“She is. Sargent had the ability to make any woman beautiful, mysterious. He paints a story, even though it’s supposed to be a simple portrait. See how it looks like she’s turning around?” Felicity gestured to the lady’s movement, then looked at Jared.