Which was the main reason I was drawn to him in the first place.
That and his tree-trunk sized legs and ridiculously fit physique. He was a big man, tall and filled out. Derek worked out and kept himself in good shape, but Jax was on a whole different level. When he handed me a drink, I noticed his rough hands and wondered about him.
His nails were short, his fingers callused and rough. He obviously worked with his hands. Manual labor? Military, perhaps? It would explain his buddies sitting across the room, all of them as fit as he was.
I shot a look over at the table of guys and they all turned back to their drinks, as if they weren't just watching their friend and me. The one I turned away looked bitter, and I noticed for the first time, that he had a twin brother sitting at the table with him. They were almost identical – it was the hair that differentiated them.
“I think we have an audience,” I said, sipping my cocktail.
The liquid burned as it went down my throat, in a way that only cheap vodka could do. No amount of cranberry juice could chase that horrible taste away. Putting the drink down on the bar, I focused my attention on the man in front of me instead of the table across the way and noticed his eyes for the first time. They were a deep blue – darker than mine – and reminded me of the depths of the Pacific. Clear and blue, but dark and murky, full of hidden mystery, all at the same time.
“Yeah, sorry about them,” Jax said, taking a swig from his beer with a shrug. “We all work together.”
“What do you do?” I asked.
“We're firefighters,” he said.
Ah, so I was right about the type of work. I'd never been with a blue-collar worker before in my life. Hell, I'd only really been with Derek, and the sex was always pretty lackluster – the few times a year we did have it, that was. I was sure he was much more vigorous and creative with his whores. I quickly pushed that bitter thought out of my head. I wasn’t there for that kind of thinking. I was there, in that shitty little bar, to get away from it.
Batting my eyelashes, I ran my hand down Jax's arm, unable to resist feeling his thick, corded muscles for myself. My insides were in knots as I imagined what he'd look like naked. He wasn't the type of guy I could bring home to Dad, nor was he someone I'd settle down with, but he could be fun for a night or two. Maybe more, though I wasn't ready to jump into anything serious straight off the bat. I figured we'd have ourselves a little bit of fun and see where things went after that.
I was so busy picturing Jax's naked body, I totally missed everything else he'd said. I realized I'd missed it when I saw him staring at me, cocked eyebrows, as if waiting for an answer. An answer to a question I hadn't heard.
My cheeks flushed, and I turned away, unable to meet his gaze as I mentally scolded myself for getting swept up into a dirty little fantasy with a man I'd just met. It was seriously unlike me. I had spent so many years following Derek’s dumb ass around like dutiful arm candy that I’d almost forgotten what it was like to truly want a man. And I wanted this one. He made me feel all types of naughty. Not to mention, I didn’t have to be who I’d been for him. I could be anyone I wanted, play any role I felt like, because Jax didn’t know me.
“I'm sorry, what were you saying again? I couldn't hear you over the music,” I said.
It was a lame excuse and I knew it the moment the words passed my lips - the music wasn't even that loud. As I looked over at Jax, I knew I was right. He was exactly what I needed – a distraction. A delicious distraction with beautiful eyes and just enough scruffiness to be considered sexy. Just looking at the man gave me a wonderful little tingle in the pit of my belly.
Jax cleared his throat.
“I asked you what you did for a living,” he said.
Before I could think of an answer, I blurted out the truth. “Real estate,” I said, then quickly stepped back, reminding myself that I was to remain anonymous and fibbed – just a bit. “I'm a real estate agent.”
Okay, maybe more than just a little, but it made more sense to be a real estate agent as opposed to being in real estate development. Most people heard development and pictured the likes of Donald Trump or greedy billionaires destroying the environment for the sake of profits. I'd like to say my father's company was different, but, well no, it wasn't. I had big changes in store for the company though. There was going to be a new way of doing business – if I ever made it to the top, that was.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Hmmm?” I was too distracted from my distraction. Focus, Madeline, I mentally scolded myself. “Oh, yeah, sure. It pays the bills, you know?”
I chuckled, though it came out sounding less like a chuckle and more like a garbled mess. Ugh. Why was I so nervous? I wasn't talking to some celebrity or model. He was a firefighter, an average Joe. I was talking to a normal, everyday, run of the mill person, not someone I needed to keep up appearances with or impress.
I guess that was exactly why I was nervous. I'd never really socialized with anyone like him before. My entire life, I'd been sheltered from the ‘normal’ people of the world and kept safe in my little bubble of wealth and privilege. When it came to average people, I had no idea what they usually talked about. I doubted that Jax and I had a lot in common. I couldn't see him going to Broadway shows and art gallery openings any more than I could see myself doing something like going off-roading or shooting things for fun. Though I had zero idea if that’s what he liked to do in his spare time.
An awkward silence fell over us. He smiled back at me, but it didn’t quite reach his gorgeous eyes. He finished his beer in one long swig and put some cash on the table, obviously ready to make his escape from my bumbling foolishness.
“Well, Maddy, it's been nice –”
“Wait, are you leaving me?” I asked.
“I just figured you were bored by now,” he said with a shrug. “You seem pretty distracted.”
He glanced over at his friends, as if trying to decide what to do. I could tell that part of him wanted to stay, but he was right, to him I probably looked bored and distracted. So, I decided to make a move. If I wanted to keep him around, I needed to act fast. I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to me.
“I'm not bored, I'm just a bit nervous around crowds,” I said. “Mind if we take this conversation back to my place?”
My heart raced, and while I didn't think Jax would turn me down, the possibility of rejection was still there. And it terrified me. His gaze moved over my body as he licked his lips. Yes, he wanted me. I could see it. Feel it. His desire radiated off of him like heat off the sun. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. My body ached for him. It had been far too long since I'd had sex, since Derek preferred his prostitutes over me. Had it been three, four months already? Jesus, my hormones were going crazy. As Allison would have said to me, I needed to get laid and laid well.
Jax ran a hand through his shaggy hair, hesitating and my heart skipped a beat. Some small part of me thought he was actually going to turn me down. I had no idea how or why he'd do it, but I was starting to think he was going to.
“I – ummm, well – to be perfectly honest, I don't think that's a good idea,” he stammered, sinking a dagger into my heart.
Wait, what?
His eyes were on my cleavage, stuck there as if he couldn't move his neck any higher. The bulge in his tight jeans was obvious enough that anybody who looked would see it. I knew he was attracted to me and wanted me, so why in the hell was he turning me down?
As if he could sense my confusion, he continued speaking, “I mean, it's not you. It's me.”
“Uh huh,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That's what they all say.”
I grabbed my bag and stood up, angry at myself for even thinking this was a good idea. I'd made a fool of myself. Thankfully, it didn't seem like anyone had recognized me, but still. I was ashamed that I was there in some sleazy bar, throwing myself at a stranger like that. That's not who I was or how I normally behaved. I just wanted to experience something
different. Most of all, I just wanted to feel some human connection again. I wanted to feel wanted.
“No, seriously,” Jax said, grabbing my arm and stopping me from leaving.
Turning around, our eyes met, and my breath caught in my throat. While there had been a look of passing interest before, now, his gaze was intense and filled with an internal fire that was burning brightly. When he licked his lips, I couldn't stop staring at how wet and luscious they looked. Yearning to taste them, I licked my own lips in response.
“I've had a rough day at work,” he said slowly. “We lost someone today, and I'm struggling right now. I'm trying to figure out how to deal with it and I don’t know that I’d be very good company.”
His face softened as he spoke, and I saw the sincerity in his eyes. The pain. The darkness from before was suddenly very obviously to me and hit me hard. As odd as it sounded, I felt my heart ache for this beautiful stranger.
“I'm sorry,” I said softly. “I had no idea.”
“Eh, it's alright. All part of the job, I'm afraid.”
He said it with an air of bravado but didn't sound all that convinced of what he was saying. He was trying to be strong and put on a brave face for my benefit, but I saw beyond his words. Being able to catch a glimpse of his soul and see his vulnerable side took me by surprise. It also warmed my heart a bit and showed me a little glimpse of what had been missing from my life for so long. Not only had I been missing out on any sort of connection from sex with Derek, but he'd never been open with me about anything. He didn't even seem to have feelings. To witness a man like Jax sharing his feelings – even if only just a hint that he was doing his best to hide – intrigued me. It intrigued me a lot, actually. It was something new for me.
Maybe because of getting that small window into him and seeing inside of his soul, if only just a peek, I realized I wanted to get to know him better. A little company to warm this cold heart of mine. I thought Jax could be a nice change of pace, something different than what I'd become used to.
I sat back down at the bar with him and sipped my crappy cocktail.
“Would you like to talk about it?” I asked. “I've been told I'm a great listener.”
He waved the bartender over and requested the bill. My heart dropped into my stomach, thinking it was over before it even started.
“So you're just going to leave me sitting here?” I muttered. “Wonderful.”
“Nah, I figured you were right. Let's get out of here and go someplace a little more private,” he said. “It seems like we both need a bit of a human connection tonight.”
He was right about that; more than he'd ever know.
Jax was rough around the edges and wasn't the type of man I could bring home to Daddy. He definitely wasn't the kind of man I could see myself settling down with. It was apparent to me though, that we both needed to feel something. We both needed to feel alive. Even if I never saw him again, we could at least have it for a night. And right then, a night was better than nothing.
One night, I told myself. We'd have one night together and nothing more. We'd have our fun. We'd recharge and revitalize our souls. After that, then we'd go our separate ways with nothing more than a pleasant memory of an evening well spent together. Jax would go back to his firehouse and I'd go back to the boardroom – sans Derek at my side – and push my father to give me the promotion I wanted. The promotion I deserved.
That was the plan, but the plan could wait until the tomorrow. Right now, all I wanted to focus on was tonight. On Jax. On us. All I wanted to focus on was enjoying one evening for myself. I'd figure everything else out later.
For the both of us, tonight was all about getting what we needed. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Or so I told myself.
* * *
Allison had a cozy little studio not too far from the bar. She hadn't come from a privileged background like I had. Her family was solidly middle class – her mother a nurse, her father an accountant, and she'd grown up in the middle of nowhere Indiana. Had it not been for her tall, lithe figure and natural beauty, she might have followed in her mother's footsteps. She probably would have ended up staying in Indiana, working a blue-collar type job, and living that middle-class dream. Or nightmare, depending upon your point of view.
Though honestly, I had a hard time imagining my best friend as a nurse. Or as anything but a glamorous as hell model, anyway. Sure, she was caring and had a natural gift for soothing people. But she also enjoyed the finer things in life – like living in Manhattan and traveling the world, drinking fine champagne, and wearing designer clothes. She enjoyed that people knew who she was when she walked down the street. She enjoyed seeing her face on countless magazine covers. She didn't make a killing as a model – she hadn't hit the big, big time just yet – but she made enough to live fairly comfortably and pay for a cute little place on her own.
Her studio was small compared to my penthouse. No, scratch that – it was cozy. There was something nice and comforting, warm and homey about her little place. It was a stylish and impeccably designed older warehouse style studio. Bare brick walls, black leather sofa, and a large bed with a black headboard and rich, burgundy bedding. It was simple and yet there was a chic elegance about it – and the décor definitely reflected my dearest friend. It felt like home.
As soon as we entered the studio, my eyes fell on the bed. I felt a little weird about it since it was my best friend's bed, and we were about to christen it, if all went as planned. I'd have to buy her some new sheets or something, to help ease the burden of guilt of having had sex in her bed.
Of course, as I looked around the place, I knew we weren't strictly confined to the bed. There was always the black leather sofa which sat near the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that also looked inviting. A little risqué in front of the windows perhaps, but inviting, nonetheless.
“Wow, nice place,” Jax said, walking over to the large windows. “I've always wondered what it would be like living around here.”
“Oh? Don't you work around here?” I asked him.
“Yeah, but I commute from across the bridge,” he casually mentioned. “I live in Jersey.”
“That's a pretty long commute,” I said. “If you work here, why don't you move closer?”
Jax chuckled, however, taking my ignorance with a grain of salt.
“Yeah, well, it'd be nice, but most of us firefighters can't afford to live here,” he said. “But that's alright. A bunch of us carpool together.”
Growing up the way I had, it never really hit me that even a small studio in Manhattan was out of the price range for many folks. The way Jax admired the place, I felt bad that some of New York's bravest guys who put their lives on the line every single day weren't living as well as my best friend, the model. It made me sad. It also made me think. When I took over my father’s company, maybe I could develop buildings that catered to the working men and women in the area. I could give them an affordable living space in the city, so they didn’t spend half of their days commuting to and from work. Wow, I was really horrible at this hookup stuff. Here I was, standing in a chic apartment alone with one of the sexiest men I’d ever laid eyes on not six feet from me and all I could think about were income disparities and business. I really, really needed to get out more.
“I see,” I said softly.
I walked over to the built-in mini bar in the kitchen and began pouring myself a drink. Allison had good taste in liquor. What she stocked at home was much better quality than the crap at the bar. I poured myself a glass of red wine.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked.
Jax turned to me, an enigmatic expression on his face. Perhaps he too was pondering the mysteries of the economic disparity in the world. Maybe not. He was hard to read.
“I'm guessing you don't have any beer, do you?” he asked.
“Sorry, I'm all out,” I said. “But there's wine.”
“No thanks. Never been much of a wine drinker,” he
said. “I guess my tastes are a little simpler.”
I cringed but did my best to hide my face. He seemed uncomfortable enough as it was, and I didn't want him to think I was judging him based on what he preferred to drink. It was clear that he knew our worlds would not collide on a regular basis. He grinned at me, running a hand through his hair. His locks were a dark, golden blonde, almost brown. It wasn't exactly long, maybe just a week or two overdue for a trim. It was long enough for him to run his hands through though. I watched that movement closely, wondering what his hair might feel like beneath my own fingertips. Derek had always kept his hair cut short, close to his head. It was nice and clean looking – professional. But now, watching Jax, I wondered what it might be like to have my hands tangled in his hair as our lips were pressed together.
He looked away from me, his smile falling. The darkness had returned to his eyes, and there was something else there. A stiffness in his posture. For some reason, he wasn't comfortable there. Another stray thought rattled through my mind that I didn't particularly like – maybe it wasn't the studio. Maybe, he wasn't comfortable around me.
“Sit down,” I said with a laugh that sounded a little too forced to my ears. “Relax.”
He eyed the Italian leather sofa earnestly, almost like he was afraid to sit on it. I sat down on it and patted the spot next to me, encouraging him to have a seat. He sat, but kept his hands folded in his lap, his posture still rigid and guarded.
“What is it?” I asked.
I watched him as I sipped my wine, savoring the rich flavor as it hit my tongue. It was a bottle I'd bought for Allison as a surprise gift or something a while back now – I couldn't remember for what exactly. It was a good vintage and had an amazing flavor. “I'm just trying to figure you out, that's all,” Jax said.
Playing With Fire: Firemen of Manhattan Series Page 3