Jen’s face turned pink. “You okayed the work without even talking to me?”
Matt shrugged. “It’s not going to run unless you replace the radiator and the transmission.”
She sagged against the wall, hand over her heart. “The transmission!” she croaked.
Matt resisted the urge to prop her up with an arm about her waist. “Yeah.” He stood with his legs braced apart and continued offering moral support—from a distance. “That’s why we couldn’t get it started this morning.”
Jen raked both her hands through her hair, forgetting for a moment that she had it up in a clip. Her fingers got tangled. Frowning, she extricated them, then removed the clip. “Do you have any idea how much that is going to cost?”
Matt tracked the silky chestnut waves flowing about her shoulders. “Eight thousand dollars, give or take.”
“Eight thousand dollars!”
“For the amount of work he’s going to do, and the cost and difficulty tracking down the right parts, that’s a bargain, Jen.”
She moaned and bent over from the waist, as if trying not to be sick. “That’s not the point.” She groaned again.
Matt tried not to notice the way her neckline gaped, revealing lace and curves, and jutting nipples. Stifling a groan himself, he averted his gaze and moved past her into his bedroom. “Really.” He tossed the words over his shoulder. “Because I thought getting your only mode of transportation back in order was exactly the point.”
Jen followed him, closing the distance between them once again. “I don’t have that kind of money right now, Matt.”
Surprised to see her standing in the middle of his bedroom, he shrugged. “Then Dad will give you an advance on your commission.”
Jen lifted her chin, coming closer. “How do you know?”
Matt exhaled. “Because I know him, and if he didn’t…then I would.”
Those cornflower-blue eyes glittered angrily. “I don’t want your money, Matt.”
Now, that rankled. “You didn’t seem to have a problem taking my father’s.”
Jen threw up her hands. “For work as it is completed!” she sputtered. “Not for…”
“What?”
She regarded him with silent derision. “That’s what I’m wondering.”
It took him a second to follow. “Surely you don’t think I’m trying to buy my way into your bed?”
She shrugged and kept her gaze locked with his. “You said it. Maybe you think that’s a way to speed up what you’d clearly like to happen between us.”
Matt hadn’t been the only one who enjoyed their make-out session. He studied her brooding expression. “This isn’t about the money,” he asserted, stepping closer. He angled a thumb at his chest. “It’s because I did what had to be done, without calling you every step of the way and asking your opinion.”
Something in his words must have clicked, because he saw a flicker of acknowledgment in Jen’s eyes. “Calling me would have been nice.”
Matt had never been one to shift the blame for his mistakes, but in this instance, he knew he wasn’t at fault. Stupidly naive, maybe, to think his gallantry would be received in the spirit it was given. He pushed on. “It would have been a waste of time. Yours and mine. Because the end result would have been the same. You would have ordered the repairs and had them done here, by the person we told you was the best.” Matt sauntered closer and saw her eyes widen in sensual awareness. “And you know why?” he murmured.
Her lower lip thrust out petulantly. “Because I had no choice?”
He shook his head, his heart going out to her, because he knew what it felt like to want things to go one way, and have them constantly go another. “Because you love that van as much as I love my pickup.”
“I didn’t tell you that so you could use it against me,” she retorted, looking distraught.
Matt put his hands on her shoulders and held her there when she would have run away from what was happening between them. “Say that again?”
Turbulent emotion tautened her pretty features. “I don’t want you taking charge of my life.”
He watched her, unsure how to help. “That isn’t what I was doing.”
Her mouth curved resentfully as she accused in a low, trembling tone, “That is exactly what you were doing, Matt.” She tapped an emphatic rhythm against the center of his chest. “And. I. Don’t. Like. It.”
He caught her hand and held it over his heart, aware they were finally beginning to get somewhere.
Wanting her to open up even more, he asked, “What’s really going on here? Are we talking about me now?” Certain he had her full attention, he waited another beat. “Or someone else?”
Matt’s assumption was so on target, Jen couldn’t help it, she swore in frustration and anger and confusion.
He grinned, pleased his needling was affecting her. He cupped her chin in his hand and urged, “Use your words. The ones not affiliated with your opinion of me.”
Jen felt as if the situation had knocked the wind out of her. For the sake of her pride, she pretended that she wasn’t glad to see Matt. Wasn’t glad to have him trying to help her, even if everything he was doing and saying was wrong.
Her hands flattened against the front of his shirt. “What I am trying to tell you,” she said, “is that I have been down this road before.”
“With another take-charge guy. Your ex-husband, maybe?”
“Yes.” Feeling as if her knees could no longer support her, she moved toward the only available seating—his bed—and sank down on the edge of it. “When it started out, I thought he was just being thoughtful and considerate. I didn’t have any money. Dex did. He wanted life to be nice for me.”
Matt sat down facing her. “What’s wrong with that?”
Everything, as it happened.
Jen looked deep in his eyes and tried not to think about how he would look at her once he knew the whole truth. “By the time Dex and I divorced, I wasn’t making any decisions for myself,” she admitted miserably. “Everything was decided for me.”
Matt furrowed his brow. “He wanted you to conform to what he thought was appropriate? For the woman who was his wife?”
Jen wished it had been that simple. Or that she had been strong enough to stand up for herself and fight for what she wanted.
But she hadn’t been able to do it then. She’d been stuck in people-pleasing mode.
Embarrassed, she had to force herself to go on. “Dex wanted me to do whatever he thought was going to tick his parents off the most.” Restless, she stood again and began to pace. “See, they were really controlling. They put all kinds of pressure on him, and he rebelled by marrying me. An artist who was more concerned about the quality of clay I was buying than the other details of my life.”
Matt’s expression gentled as he began to understand.
“They liked a woman’s hair to be salon perfect at all times, so Dex insisted that I not do anything to it that wasn’t completely natural.” Jen paused next to the window and looked out at the rolling acreage of the ranch.
Bracing a shoulder against the frame, she turned back to Matt. “They ate haute cuisine, so he had us bring in food from the most lowbrow restaurants around for our dinner.”
Matt came to stand next to her. “You lived with them?”
Remembering, she felt her heart constrict. “Oh, yes. That was part of the plan. He kept saying he wanted to build a place for us.”
“And they were all for that?”
“No.” Jen massaged the tense muscles in her neck. “His folks liked having him under their thumb. They just wanted to get rid of me, and have him marry someone more suitable. Someone of their social standing and all that.”
Matt searched her face. “So what finally happened?”
Memories came as fast and devastating as the actual event. “They gave Dex what he wanted. Early access to his half-million-dollar trust fund. On one condition.”
“He divorce you.”
Jen nodded, stunned to this day by the cruelty of the event. “Yep.”
“And you were hurt.”
She raked a hand through her hair. “Relieved.” She looked into Matt’s eyes, swallowed, and forged on, “I knew by then that the marriage was going to end. I knew it had to end.” She shook her head in regret, wishing she had been stronger. Less needy. “But I didn’t want it to.”
“Because you loved him. Or thought you did.”
“Because I wanted it to be the opposite of my childhood,” she said emotionally. How naive she’d been! “I wanted it all to work out in the end. And in the meantime, I had a roof over my head, food to eat and a place to work on my sculpting. So I just kept going, kept trying, kept thinking that if only I was the perfect wife and the perfect daughter-in-law and the perfect rising artist, everything would work out. That his parents would come to accept me one day.” Jen drew a breath. “And in the meantime, I had Dex, who told me he loved me and that we would be happy when we were both able to make all our dreams come true. Mine was to make a living selling my art. And his was to start his own venture capital business.”
“Did he?”
“Yes. He’s very good at it. And he’s now very rich. His parents are very proud of him. I’m successful now, too. So everyone lived happily ever after.”
“Not quite.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Because you haven’t moved on—emotionally—from the mistake, any more than I’ve moved on from my elopement.”
A laugh bubbled up inside her. “And what would you have us do, Matt?”
“Jump back in.”
Jen shivered, and not from air-conditioning vent above her head. “That’s the best line I’ve ever heard.”
And also the most seductive.
He grinned. “It’s not a line.”
Pulse thudding, she absorbed the sight of him, jaw unshaved, hair tousled, body hard and sweaty beneath the half-open shirt. Her fingers itched to discover the texture of all that sleek, tanned, hair-roughened skin.
And he wanted her, too.
She could see it. Feel it. Completely identify with it.
“Matt…” Jen whispered. Why was he doing this? Making her realize how badly she still needed to belong.
And the way he looked at her whenever they were alone made her think she belonged with him.
He knew it, too….
His eyes were two dark pools. “Take a shower with me.”
Desire washed over her with an intensity she had never felt before.
He brushed a soft kiss to her temple before trailing more kisses across her cheek, her jaw. “Take a risk.” He settled a hand on her hip, dragged his fingers up her spine. “See where this can go.”
Goose bumps erupted on her skin. There was tenderness in his eyes and a smile that promised all sorts of wicked and wonderful things, if only she said the word.
Jen wanted passion in her life. She wanted—needed—to be loved.
What she didn’t want was to be disappointed and have her heart broken again.
And Matt Briscoe had the power to do that.
More than he knew.
She shook her head but couldn’t seem to make herself move away. So instead, she flattened her palms on his chest and closed her eyes. And felt the soft press of his lips on her forehead.
“We’re so different, you and I.” She gazed into his eyes. “I stopped trying to control everything a very long time ago.”
Matt met her gaze in challenge. “And now you try to control nothing.”
“Life is what it is.” She had work, friends, a home. It was enough. More than enough. “I accept that.”
“Then…” tugging her close, Matt held her against him and bent his head to hers “…accept this.”
Chapter Seven
Jen meant to resist, she really did. But she was his for the taking the moment Matt tilted her head and covered her lips with his.
It didn’t matter that she shouldn’t be here, in his bedroom. Inhaling his scent. Feeling his heat. It didn’t matter that she was a sensible woman whose heart was locked up, out of reach. He made a sound of pleasure that went straight through her, and their kiss deepened into an intense, satisfying tangle of lips and tongues. And Jen felt alive in a way she hadn’t in years. She felt on the edge of a kind of contentment she’d never had. And she knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. The kind that likely would not come again.
Matt thrust a thigh between hers. His hand slid down to the small of her back, riveting her in place, and turning the kiss into a full-body experience of raw, sexual power. And darned if she didn’t want to give as good as she was getting.
She let Matt dance her backward toward the bathroom in his suite, kissing her all the while. And once there, she used the heel of her boot to shut the door with a thud.
Matt laughed and drew back to look at her.
“We’re really going to do this.”
“We’re really going to do this,” she whispered, already toeing off her boots.
He pulled his shirt over his head, his smile slow and sure, and so hot it singed every nerve ending in her body.
Her jeans went next.
Then his.
The mutual striptease gave her a thrill that turned her blood to liquid fire. Lower still, a quiver racked her.
He helped her remove her tank top, then her bra and panties. Her nipples tightened. “Beautiful,” he murmured, touching and caressing her, then looking at her with a heavy-lidded gaze that had her wanting to fall into bed with him and never emerge.
She quivered once more, and then was kissing him again. And when kissing wasn’t enough, she worked her fingers beneath the elastic of his sexy black briefs and helped dispense with them. Her eyes followed her hands. Lord, he was big and hard, Jen thought. Every inch of him was buff and hard and male. His eyes were burning with desire.
Lust consumed her, too.
He kissed her throat, her shoulder, moving lower to her breast. She had never felt as beautiful, as wanted as she did at that moment.
A liquid warmth filled her as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue. Writhing against him, she sifted her fingers through his hair, kissed the top of his head. Gasping, she arched her back, surrendering to him.
When he rose again, smiling, the kiss turned maddeningly slow and sensual. She let her fingers play, too, until he groaned, turned the dial and guided her inside the glass-walled shower. Then he drew them both beneath the generous spray, cupped her head in his hand and kissed her again, the delicious heat of him countering the slowly warming water sluicing over them. Again and again he kissed her, until she gave herself over to his demand, and their bodies were plastered together.
When she could stand it no longer, he caressed her tenderly and groaned. “You’ve got me so off task.”
It felt very on task to her.
He leaned over and kissed her again. “I intended to get cleaned up for you first.”
His eyes met hers. Another thrill slid through her. Another whisper of arousal…
Matt reached for the soap, grabbed a washcloth from the hook. Aware this was her every fantasy come true, she watched as he rubbed the bar into a nice thick lather, then set it back on the shelf and began running the cloth over his body with the same steady expertise he did everything else.
Shoulders. Chest. Thighs…
Feeling left out of what looked like an awful lot of fun, Jen caught his hand, extricated the cloth. “Allow me.”
He chuckled, his eyes darkening. Acquiescing, he leaned against the shower wall.
“I’m an artist,” she whispered, grabbing the sprayer, too. “I learn best through touch.” And what she wanted to learn most, Jen discovered breathlessly, was him.
Every dip and nook and cranny, every hard plane and rigid muscle, was washed and rinsed, touched and loved.
Turning her on.
Turning him on.
Suddenly the soapy cloth dropped and
the kissing commenced. The next thing Jen knew, he’d grasped her wrist, shut off the water, and was heading for bed.
His bed.
Which was, she soon discovered, infinitely comfortable. Especially with Matt stretched out beside her.
Pausing only long enough to roll on a condom, he steadied her, hands on her hips. “Still time to turn back,” he said, his voice rough with desire.
Her own passion ready to explode, Jen shook her head. She would die if he didn’t fill her soon. “No way.”
“Then let’s get you good to go.” He slid down to the apex of her thighs, held her open, kissing and ravishing, until she was shuddering and gasping for air.
Jen clutched at him. “Now, Matt. Now…”
She felt his smile against her thigh. He moved upward. “My pleasure.”
Being filled by him was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Jen opened herself up to him as he began to move in exactly the right rhythm to send her soaring. Emboldened by her pleasure, he thrust hard again, finding his own shattering release.
He kissed her through the climax, through the aftermath, and even after that. Jen had never had anyone want her once the passion had faded. It was a delicious sensation, sweet and satisfying, the tenderness between them a palpable thing. Which was why, she knew, she had to get out of there.
Fast.
* * *
MATT KNEW IT WAS TOO MUCH, too soon. He’d hooked up with Jen, anyway. And not for the strictly physical reasons she might suspect. He hadn’t led her down here to seduce her into bed. He had come back down here to get away from her, from the closeness that threatened every time they were alone together.
And even when they weren’t.
She had a way of looking at him, of understanding what was going on with him even when he didn’t say a word.
He wasn’t used to feeling understood—by anyone.
Up until now, it hadn’t bothered him. Life was just easier that way. When he could keep everyone at arm’s length.
The last place he wanted Jen was at arm’s length.
Yet there she was, just minutes after they had both climaxed—out of his arms, out of his bed. Sheet draped modestly around her, she was gathering up her clothes, one by one. As if he hadn’t already committed every inch of her sweet, luscious body to memory. And, he was willing to bet, she was equally familiar with his. Not that there wasn’t room for improvement. They still had much to explore in the lovemaking department. In fact, he was already getting hard. “You really don’t have to rush out. No one else is here, nor likely to be.”
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