Nobody But You

by Jill Shalvis

  Right. But what if she didn’t know what she loved?

  Or if she even could love?

  They said their good-byes, and Sophie loaded a gallon of chocolate fudge ice cream and then on second thought made it two. Then she called her sister.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Brooklyn answered, sounding irritated. “And what I really mean is ‘Hey, unless you have a time machine to whisk me away from the insanity of my life, I can’t talk right now.’”

  Sophie could hear the sounds of kids laughing and playing in the background and also what was probably the clicking of her sister’s fingers over a keyboard. “You busy?”

  “I can’t even. What’s up?”

  “Just talked to Dad.”

  Brooklyn sighed. “And how did that go?”

  “The good news is that in the best-daughter competition, you’re still winning. The bad news is that he’s still upset about the divorce.”

  “You’ve done some good things too,” Brooklyn said. “Marrying a dickbag wasn’t one of them. Don’t feel bad about leaving him. In fact, leaving him should be added to the list of good things you’ve done, stat. Hang on—Kyle,” she yelled, “if you shove that crayon tip up your nose, so help me, I’ll—shit. Soph, I gotta go.”

  Sophie slipped her phone back into her pocket and felt a tingle of awareness along the nape of her neck that had her lifting her head.

  Her gaze collided with Jacob’s.

  He stood at the end of the aisle in front of the frozen pizzas, wearing sexy jeans and an army-green T-shirt that fit like it’d been made for him.

  Bad for you, she reminded herself. All you’ve done is daydream about the things he did to you in his great big bed with his great big—

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  He smiled like maybe he knew what she was thinking about. And his smile made her remember all the things she’d been coaxed into doing the last time he’d flashed it at her.

  Just keep your cool. And your clothes on. She eyeballed his section of the freezer. “Dinner?”

  “Yeah. The question is three meat and five cheese or fully loaded.”

  “In other words, a heart attack waiting to happen?”

  He slid a laughing gaze her way. “Says the woman who ate a heart attack for breakfast the other day.”

  She’d had something else for breakfast that day too. Him. Her body involuntarily softened at the memory. Dammit. “That was a hangover cure,” she said. “Entirely different.”

  His grin made the woman behind Sophie drop her frozen chicken Alfredo casserole.

  “There’s healthier stuff in the fresh aisle,” she said.

  He gave her cart—and the ice cream in it—a long look.

  “Do as I say, not as I do,” she muttered.

  He laughed, but grabbed a loaded pizza. “I don’t really have all that long of a life expectancy,” he said. “So I’m not too worried about a heart attack.”

  That sobered her up pretty quick. And right then and there she made yet another choice. No regrets. “Put the pizza back,” she said. “I’m grilling spice-rubbed beef tenderloin with chimichurri for a client. I’ll have extra.”

  “You had me at beef tenderloin,” he said, making her thighs quiver. “Although I’ve got no idea what the hell chimichurri is.”

  “It’s a tangy, zesty condiment that’s like a cross between vinaigrette and pesto,” she told him. “I’ll have plenty.”

  “How do you know how hungry I am?”

  The words—not to mention his voice—gave her a shiver in the very best kind of way. “How hungry are you?” she heard herself whisper.

  He let five solid beats go by, during which time he just looked at her. “Frighteningly hungry,” he finally said.

  Another woman promptly ran her cart into Sophie’s. “Oh, sorry!” the woman gasped, face red as she hurried off.

  “You’re making quite an impression,” Sophie managed dryly.

  He shook his head like he disagreed and stepped closer to her, right inside her own personal little space bubble. Now she was in his orbit and in danger of being sucked in and going up in flames.

  But she didn’t make a move to a safer zone. In fact, all she could think of was how he’d felt moving over her, in her, his voice a low, sexy murmur in her ear. She knew the texture of his skin, the dips and valleys of his beautiful body, the sounds he made when he came…

  Something flashed in his eyes. Heat for sure. And maybe humor. “I like what you’re thinking about,” he said.

  “You have no idea what I’m thinking about.”

  “Wanna bet?” he asked, running one hand up her back until the pads of his fingers slid beneath her hair and brushed the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.

  Her very long few days vanished in the flame of hunger flickering to life at his touch. She’d thought she could stay away, ignore him. Ignore this. She’d been delusional.

  Jacob lowered his head so that his mouth was a fraction of an inch from hers and they were sharing air. He wasn’t touching her anywhere but with those rough fingertips, and yet she could feel him, big, warm, strong. So strong.

  Yearning washed over her in waves, and she was the one to make the move, fisting her hands into his shirt and yanking him in. She who kissed him. She who planted her mouth on his and, at the taste of him, moaned.

  The last time they’d kissed, he’d made her feel wanted, made her feel sexy, vibrant. Alive.

  She wanted that feeling again, that sensation of flying without a net, knowing that he’d catch her…

  Kissing him gave her all that, and when he slid his hands into her hair and cradled her head, it also gave her more.

  She heard something crash and tried to pull free. Jacob, not so easily startled, was much slower to lift his head, keeping his hands on her when he turned his head to look.

  Another woman had come down the aisle and had run her cart into the display of pie crusts. She wasn’t alone. She had a much older woman at her side, holding on to the cart like it was a walker.

  “Wow,” the older woman said. “Haven’t seen a kiss like that in a long time.”

  “Mother,” the younger woman hissed. “Shh!”

  “Just calling it like it is,” the older woman said, not shhing. “And look, it gave her a healthy glow. Wouldn’t mind a glow like that,” she said wistfully.

  While the woman rushed her mother out of the aisle, Sophie drew a shaky breath and ordered herself to get a grip. “So,” she said, trying to remember what they’d been talking about.

  “So,” he said. “You done working for the day?”

  “No. I’m temping for a property management company, opening up one of the vacation homes for some English duke and duchess on a secret American getaway. I have to unload all their supplies and check that everything got cleaned and set up.” Her lips were tingling.

  They wanted another kiss.

  She gestured to the huge cart in front of her, filled with high-end wines, fancy cheeses and crackers, and other things like caviar and stuff that cost more than she’d spend for herself in a month. “I’m filling their fridge from their list of requests,” she said. “But I’m having trouble finding”—she consulted her phone again for the list—“goat-cheese ice cream.”

  He winced. “Who eats goat-cheese ice cream?”

  Still eyeballing her list, she shrugged. “Apparently the duchess. Also, it needs to be whiskey and pecan flavored.” She tried not to gag at the thought.

  “What else do you need to find?”

  Detecting a note of humor in his voice, she lifted her head. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh…” She eyed the list again. “The duke wants condoms. Ribbed for her pleasure.” She managed to control her grimace on that one. The duke was eighty-five if he was a day, and although he was tall and…duke-like, gravity hadn’t been kind. He’d been a rugby player in his day and all that muscl
e had atrophied, so he now resembled something like a plucked rooster. “He also wants massage oil, but it has to be organic. And…” She paused, unable to say the next item with a straight face.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. Nope. Couldn’t do it.

  Jacob came up behind her to peer over her shoulder at the list. He left no space between them, his arms brushing each of her sides as he rested his hands on the cart handle in front of her.

  She pretended to study the list. But the truth was, she’d forgotten how to read. She’d forgotten how to breathe.

  “‘A battery-operated massage gizmo,’” he read for her, and nuzzled her ear. “I’ve got a gizmo. No batteries required.”

  She closed her eyes. “This isn’t my list.”

  He laughed softly, and since he remained in place at her back, she felt the laugh reverberate through his chest to hers. “Interesting job. I think we should take this discussion to the lake.”

  She opened her mouth to say absolutely not, but her body went to war with her brain and all that came out was a sigh.

  Someone came around the corner and down the aisle.

  “Kenna,” Jacob said, not sounding thrilled.

  “I saw your truck and knew I’d find you in the freezer aisle.” Kenna eyeballed them both with great interest. “So you two are a thing.”

  “No,” Sophie said.

  “None of your business,” Jacob said at the same time.

  They looked at each other.

  Kenna laughed. “Never mind. I’ve got my answer.” She turned to Sophie. “You’ve temped at the resort a couple of times, right?”

  “Yes. I’ve worked a couple of your events when you’ve been short-staffed.”

  “You helped us manage the mountain biking event we did a couple of weeks ago,” Kenna said. “And did a hell of a job too. She saved the day,” she told Jacob. “The promo was all screwed up, and she managed the social media and crazy phones, doing the work of, like, ten people. It was awesome.” She smiled at Sophie. “Hope you’ll join us for some of our upcoming events, specifically the Wounded Warriors. We need all hands on deck.” She hugged her brother and then looked in his cart. “Seriously? What are you, twelve?”

  “Hey, I’ve missed having some things from home,” he said.

  “Like what, clogged arteries?” She pointed at Sophie. “Talk some sense into him.”

  Sophie was fascinated by the relationship between brother and sister. Obviously, there was love and affection. And irritation. It was…normal, so much so that it made Jacob seem all the more human to her. “Have you ever had any luck telling him what to do?” Sophie asked Kenna.

  His sister laughed. “Good point.”

  Jacob watched as Sophie moved on, heading down the aisle a bit, referencing her list, her mouth moving as she read it to herself. There were shadows beneath her eyes. She was tired and probably working too hard.

  Just watching the way all those sweet, warm curves moved, the way her hair seemed to shift in counterpart—she was absolutely unaware of her beauty—made him want to haul her in close until she let out one of those sexy, helpless little murmurs and pressed herself up against him.

  “I’ve never seen you look at anyone like that before,” Kenna said. “You look at her like she’s…”

  He slid her a look. “What?”

  “Like she’s a double-fudge brownie, warm from the oven.”

  “You’re wrong.” He wasn’t looking at her like she was a double-fudge brownie. She was more important than dessert. She was a main course, the base of the food chain.

  And hell.

  He hadn’t seen her coming.

  Kenna set a hand on his arm, bringing his gaze back to her. Her expression was much more serious now, her voice quiet. “You going to fall for her, Jacob?”

  “Do I look insane?”

  “Yes,” she said immediately. “Sometimes.”

  He gave her hair a soft tug.

  She let him lighten the mood, doing her part by sending him into the freezer doors with a well-placed shove. Apparently they’d made up and were back to normal.

  Normal.

  There was a word Jacob hadn’t thought about for a long time and hadn’t realized he even missed feeling.

  Sophie was in the bread aisle, trying to find the duchess’s gluten-free, salt-free, taste-free brand, when Jacob caught up with her.

  Sans Kenna, he leaned in and sniffed her. “God,” he said on a clearly heartfelt sigh. “You smell better than a double-fudge brownie.”

  She’d started to melt until he said “brownie” and instead gave him an elbow to the gut.

  His hands went to her hips while he laughed and smelled her again, his face plastered into the crook of her neck. “Seriously, yum. You smell amazing. I want to eat you up, Soph. Come on, let me eat you up.”

  Well, hell if that didn’t have her good parts standing up and waving their hands in the air like they just didn’t care. “Stop it.” Don’t stop… “I’m working.”

  “You smell amazing and you are amazing.” He was pressing hot, openmouthed kisses to her throat, accelerating her heart rate. “I couldn’t do what you do,” he said conversationally while his mouth wreaked havoc with her self-control. Her nipples were trying to break free of their confines.

  And he just kept talking in that easy way of his while simultaneously arousing her with little to no effort at all.

  “I’d have a hard time doing what you do,” he said, and kissed the spot where her shoulder and neck met. “You work too hard.”

  It took her a moment to locate her tongue. And he’d noticed that she worked hard. That shouldn’t have made her feel good, but it did. “Stop that. I can’t think when you do that.”

  He nipped her and then soothed it with a hot kiss, taking his time before finally letting her go.

  She let out a shaky breath and tried to remember what she was saying, when what she really wanted was to yank him down and have her merry way with him. “And then I need to check and rearrange the royals’ schedules so that certain things don’t…overlap.”

  “Overlap?” he asked.

  “Well, for one, the duke’s girlfriend doesn’t like the duchess,” she said, “and the feeling’s mutual. Last time they managed to run into each other in that twelve-thousand-square-foot home, there was a huge catfight. The duke stepped in to break it up and lost his toupee.”

  Jacob grinned. “I’d have to shoot myself if I had your job. No, scratch that. I’d shoot the royals.”

  “The client’s always right,” she said, repeating her mantra, the one she’d sang to herself a thousand times today. But the truth was, she liked doing these temp jobs. She got to meet a lot of people, she never had to do the same thing twice, and she also got to see firsthand that it didn’t matter which side of the railroad tracks you parked your head at night; everyone had problems. “I like doing my job.”

  “You have a more positive attitude than I do. I wouldn’t last a day,” he said. “Hell, I wouldn’t last five minutes. You’re a much better person than me.”

  She froze, caught off guard, not to mention flat-out surprised. How long had it been since anyone had said anything like that to her? Uncomfortable with the praise, she blindly grabbed a loaf of bread and turned to go.

  But Jacob wasn’t deterred. She had a feeling nothing could deter him when he’d set his mind on something.

  “You know you’re something else, right?” he asked. “Something really wonderful. Handling all you’ve been through with grace and courage. I mean, you didn’t even try to kill your ex for what he did to you.”