“I just think it’s for the best.”
“I don’t,” he replies shortly.
I look at him in shock. “What you think doesn’t matter.”
His gray eyes narrow to slits. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you because I thought of something.”
“What?” I ask warily.
“A solution to your problem.”
“Which problem?” I blurt out without thought, making him recoil a little. Shit! I seriously need to fix that filter.
“I was referring to the roof,” he says, looking at me with interest. “Why, is there another problem?” He’s goading me, trying to press my buttons and force a confession out of me—how I can’t stop thinking about him, how my body burns with want for him. He can try all he likes.
“No, there’s not.” He knows as well as I do that we have more than a construction problem here, and we need to sort it out quickly. If it can be sorted out at all. “What’s your solution?”
“To which problem?” he asks seriously.
I breathe in a patience-building shot of air. And maybe a resistance-strengthening one, too. “My roof problem,” I clarify, keeping my face straight and serious.
“Oh, that problem.” A sick smile ghosts his lips, a knowing smile.
“This isn’t funny, Jack.”
“I’m not laughing, Annie.” He points to his car. “I think I have a solution to our roof problem. I’ll show you.”
I look to his car, as wary as I should be, and back to Jack. “Show me what?”
“A project we undertook last year. A museum.” I frown, and he goes on. “The structure wasn’t adequate to take the roof.”
My back straightens. “And what did you do?”
He sighs tiredly, stepping back to give me space. “Let me show you?” He’s not begging, but he’s not far from it. “I want to see your roof come to life as much as you do, Annie. I want to help you.”
I try to read his body language, try to figure him out, totally torn. I don’t know whether he’s purposely trying to entice me, or whether he genuinely wants to help me. But there’s only one way to find out.
“I’ll follow you there,” I say, hoping I’m not making a huge mistake.
* * *
The drive takes a good twenty minutes, me tailing his silver Audi in my Golf, and the whole time my mind is batting back and forth between my work problem and my personal problem. Every time I think work, though, Jack overpowers those thoughts and I find my mind reeling with so many questions. Questions about his wife, their relationship, the so-called rumors about her. But as quickly as those questions pop into my head, they go when I remind myself that it’s none of my business or concern. Focus, Annie. Focus on work.
I pull up behind Jack outside an Edwardian-style building and join him on the pavement. “This?” I ask, looking up at the stone façade.
“It’s at the rear.” He wanders ahead, leaving me to follow. “This way.”
I make my way around the back of the building, keeping my distance, finding myself in a beautifully manicured garden. “This is a museum?” I ask, taking a few steps down to the face of the building.
“Dedicated to a local artist who died in the ’50s.” Jack points upward, and I follow his indication to look at the roof. “It’s not glass, but it’s pretty hefty.”
“And how did you support it adequately?”
Jack moves to a window and points inside. “Come here.”
I make my way over, curious, and join him at the window, but my height prevents me from seeing through the raised glass. “I can’t…oh!” I’m lifted from my feet and presented to the window. “Jack!”
“See that back wall?” he asks, ignoring my panicked screech.
I try to numb myself to the feel of his big hands on my waist, looking through the window. “Yes,” I practically squeak.
“That was where the building ended. The original wall was too old and weak to sustain the pitched roof of the extension, so we basically demolished it and rebuilt it with a double skin using reclaimed stone. It meant no support columns had to be used, so the space remained open.”
“And you think we could do the same on Colin’s project?” I ask, trying not to let my excitement get the better of me before we know for sure.
“We’ll need to have the structural engineer confirm it.” He lowers me to my feet, moving his hands away. I faff with my dress in an attempt to look unaffected by the fact that his big hands had me held at that window with absolutely no effort. “But I can’t see there being a problem at all.”
I lose the ability to contain my excitement, looking up at him. “Really?”
Jack smiles brightly, and this time it’s that full-blown, gorgeous Jack smile. “You’re back on track, Annie.”
Forgetting myself completely, totally overcome with relief and a ton of other emotions I dare not analyze, I launch myself at him, so bloody grateful for his help. “Thank you,” I breathe, squeezing his shoulders.
His strong arms lock around my whole body and lift me from the ground, his face sinking into my neck. “Anytime,” he replies softly.
It would be appropriate to detach ourselves from each other right about now, yet neither of us shows any signs of releasing the other, both of us content to remain locked together. I can feel his heart beating, his chest pulsing into mine, and his smell, pure and Jack, takes over my senses completely. I begin to succumb to every intoxicating element of Jack Joseph, feeling myself weakening where I’m held in his arms.
“Is this how you do business?” he asks after an age, inhaling into my neck. “Because if so, we need to work together a lot more in the future.”
I smile despite myself. “I’m sorry.” I reluctantly break away from him, now avoiding his eyes. “I got a little overwhelmed.”
“So you should.” He folds his arms over his broad chest, and I fleetingly wonder if it’s a move to prevent him from taking me in his arms again. “You’re a very talented woman, Annie. I wish every architect I worked with was as dynamic and creative as you are.”
Every time Jack says my name, something inside of me happens. Something electrifying. And when he praises me like he just did, it inspires me, drives me to want to do so much more. I swallow down the lump in my throat and point over my shoulder. “I should be getting home,” I say, and he nods mildly. “Thank you, Jack.”
His eyes. Oh, his eyes. They say a million things, even if his mouth doesn’t.
I slowly turn and walk away, shaking. But not so much with excitement. More with the restraint to not run back into his arms, where for a welcomed moment my rocking world was steady again.
When I make it to my car I drop into my seat and take a few steadying gasps of oxygen, looking back up to the building, waiting for him to appear. But he doesn’t, and I start to wonder what he’s doing back there. What he’s thinking. He’s helped me. He found a solution to my problem, and his face when he saw my elation could have knocked me to my arse. He was happy for me. He wants me to succeed.
“Go home, Annie,” I say to myself, turning the key in the ignition. The engine drones for a few seconds before going dead. “Oh, come on,” I say, trying it again. This time, I get nothing. Not a peep. “Well, this is great.” I flop back in my seat just as Jack appears from the back of the building, his head dropped and his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and when he looks up and finds me still here, he cocks his head in question. I raise hopeless hands.
Making his way over, he opens my car door. “What’s up?”
“It won’t start.” I turn the key again, demonstrating the lack of life.
“Pop the hood,” he orders.
“How?”
He laughs lightly on a little shake of his head and reaches into the car, down by my legs. I hold my breath and quickly shift my knees when he skims them with his hard forearm. “Here,” he says, flicking me a knowing look and pulling the hidden lever. I smile aw
kwardly, my mind blanking on me, as he slowly withdraws his arm. I only start breathing again when he’s out of touching distance, making his way around to the front of my car. He lifts the bonnet, taking him out of my view.
I get out of my car and stand far enough away from him so there can be no more touches, accidental or not. “Are you good with cars?”
“Basics,” he says, licking his finger and touching a metal knob. “Your battery is dead. I don’t have any jump leads.”
“What are jump leads and where can I get them?”
He laughs again, harder this time, and looks at me, thoroughly amused. “They may get your car started, but there’s nowhere you’ll find them around here at this time of night.”
“Oh. So what do I do?”
“You let me take you home.”
I shoot him a look. “Jack, I really don’t thin—”
He’s claimed my hand before I have a chance to argue further, pulling me toward his Audi. “It’s a good idea?” he finishes. “Why?”
And, fuck, my whole damn body goes up in smoke. I look down at his big hand wrapped around my tiny wrist, knowing I haven’t a hope of yanking myself free. He pulls us to a stop and turns to me, catching me off guard. I hit his chest and jump back, zeroing in on his open collar. I mustn’t look at his face. I. Must. Not. Look. At. His. Face.
My tongue goes all heavy, but I manage to spit some words out. “Fine, you can take me home.”
“It wasn’t up for debate.” He opens the door and pushes me down into the seat.
Chapter 10
The tension in the small space of Jack’s car is palpable. For the entire drive, I find myself fidgeting in my seat, constantly talking myself down from doing something stupid. Like diving across the car and taking what I know he’s capable of. What I know he wants. Or saying something stupid, like how much he’s on my mind. Like how hard I’m fighting my instinct to let him have me.
When he pulls up outside my flat, I literally dive out of the car and run up the steps to my front door, fumbling with the lock to get inside. My skin is tingling terribly. The need to run back to him is strong.
Married!
I slam the door and rush through to the kitchen, shrugging out of my coat and kicking my shoes off on my way, deciding a glass of wine is in order to try and calm myself down. Wine, and maybe a bath. No more work tonight. No more thinking.
“Motherfucker!” I screech, grabbing the kitchen door and virtually climbing up the wood. “Oh my God!”
I feel all the color drain from my face as I stare into a pair of beady eyes watching me from the kitchen floor—eyes that belong to the biggest mouse I’ve ever seen in my life. My heart is clattering in my chest as I grapple at the top of the door, keeping my feet off the ground. It’s just staring at me, totally unperturbed, bold as fucking brass.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”
We’re in a staring deadlock, me hanging off the door, the elephant-sized mouse holding position in the middle of my kitchen floor. Then it moves suddenly and I scream, watching in horror as it scurries across the kitchen floor and disappears behind a cupboard.
“Mouse!” I shriek, dropping from the door and running at full pelt down the hallway to the front door. I throw it open, the wood hitting the wall behind it and crashing loudly, echoing in the night air. Then I stumble down the path and run across the road, as far away from my apartment as I can get. Mice! Oh God, I fucking hate mice! My breathing becomes rushed. I’m hyperventilating.
I shudder from top to toe and glance down the street. What now?
“Annie?” Jack’s concerned voice pulls my attention to my right, where he’s standing across the road by his Audi. He’s still here?
I point to my front door. “Mouse,” I mumble meekly.
He balks at me. And then he laughs. He fucking laughs. I don’t know why. This is about as funny as a nasty rash. I look at him, releasing a scowl of epic proportions, and manage to see through my fear and irritation that he’s absolutely in bits, his hands holding his stomach. He looks so fucking handsome. Delightfully so. The fact that he’s simply here is enough to cause another meltdown. With his infectious smile and the sound of his laugh, I’m in trouble. Jack…and a mouse. Two meltdowns happening all at once will probably kill me.
He looks at my shaking form across the road, smiling brightly, his face alive with happiness, and my world starts spinning wildly out of control at the sight.
I’m screaming on the inside. Positively falling apart, and the mouse is only half the reason why. Jack, the mouse…and that familiar sizzle of electricity bouncing between our bodies. He finally finds the will to calm his amusement, and realization dawns on his face. The scene, him standing on one side of the road, me on the other. Staring at each other. Tension. Want.
The silence lingers painfully. I can’t deal with it, but before I can speak to move things along, Jack does. “Where in the kitchen should I look?”
My relief that he’s keeping this business, so to speak, is obvious. I exhale deeply. “It ran behind the cupboard by the double doors.”
“Are you okay out here on your own?” he asks. I can see so many things he wants to say in his gray eyes, and I silently beg that he doesn’t.
“I think it’s safer for me to stay out here,” I say quietly, knowing he understands the hidden meaning in my statement. A mouse in my apartment is enough to keep me out. Jack in my apartment, too, makes it the most hazardous zone ever.
I remain where I am as he slowly makes his way up to the open doorway and strides down the hallway with no hesitation or caution.
His back.
Solid and wide.
My fingers scraping into his flesh as he drives into…
My hands come up and encase my head, my fingers clawing into my scalp like they can squish the thoughts. He’s in my apartment. I turn away from my front door, looking up to the sky as I battle to stop my fortitude from disintegrating. This week has been fucking exhausting. I need it to be over so I can spend all weekend getting trashed and restocking on willpower quickly before I flake. Before I venture into forbidden territory.
It feels like hours of waiting. Hours of holding on to my conscience. Hours of remaining where I am and keeping my thoughts in check. Hours of running through every reason why he’s not to be touched. Thought of. Admired.
I wrap my arms around my body and turn back toward my apartment entrance, listening carefully for any bangs that will signal the demise of the mouse. I hear nothing. I’m standing in the street, in a skimpy summer dress, not even any damn shoes on my feet. The temperature has dropped a little, enough to make me start shivering.
Jack eventually appears in the doorway. “Gone,” he says simply, but this news doesn’t relax me like it should, because there’s still another hazard looming.
“You killed it?”
He nods, holding me where I am with his hard, hooded stare.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, studying him, definitely detecting that he’s deep in thought. Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask. I need to get back into my apartment without engaging with him, which could prove tricky when he’s blocking the doorway and looking like he has no intention of shifting to let me in.
I take long, confident strides across the road, hoping he’ll be wise and move before I make it to my door. He doesn’t. If anything, he widens his stance, his body now completely filling the entrance. “Thank you for your help,” I say politely, forcing myself to look at him so he can see the resolve in my eyes. As always, it’s a mistake, but I work hard to keep myself in check and disregard his lovely face.
“Annie,” he breathes. “I’m struggling so badly.”
“I’m not doing this.” I swallow, pushing my way past him. He grabs me by the top of my arm and holds me in place. “Let me go, Jack.”
“I’ve already told you I can’t do that. Annie, I’m drowning here. I’m going out of my mind, and the more time I spend with you, the fucking worse it’s getting. Lis
tening to you, talking to you, sharing a passion with you that goes way beyond the amazing time we had in bed together.”
“You have to forget!” I yell, knowing anger is the only way forward. Be angry with him. Let it dominate me and rule me, because the alternative scares me to fucking death.
He pushes me into the hall and slams the door behind us, forcing me to back up. “No,” he says, straight and even. “No,” he repeats, moving one more step forward, except this time I don’t retreat. Because I can’t. Because he has me locked in place with those gray eyes, and now they’re back to their full glory. Sparkling, even if it’s with anger. He reaches for his shirt and starts unbuttoning it before shrugging it off and throwing it to
The Forbidden Page 12