by Jessica Bird
She nodded and pointed to a set of double doors. "What's through there?"
"Just a closet." He walked over and opened it up.. Inside were four Rubbermaid bins and she seemed curious as she looked at them. "I believe the bottom two are stuffed with some needlepoint pillows my mother has no use for. The others are full of old family papers."
"Really?" She went inside and lifted the lid off the top one. "Have they been cataloged?"
"Not that I know of."
"They should be."
"Do you want to do it?"
She glanced over her shoulder. "Are you serious?"
"Of course. And I'd pay you for the work."
She shook her head. "Absolutely not. I happen to like making order out of chaos, so this would be a nice diversion for me. Besides, I don't have a background in document preservation. All I could do is sift through the papers, put them in piles, and get them ready so someone who knew what they were doing could go through them."
She got up on her tiptoes and leaned forward, putting her arms inside the box. He heard papers sliding against one another with a graceful sound and then a harsh noise when the container slipped. She started to fall forward.
Moving on instinct, Jack grabbed her around the waist from behind, pulling her back. His first thought was merely to keep her upright.
But as her body came up against him, his brain pretty much shut down.
As they made contact, he heard her gasp and felt like doing a little heavy breathing of his own. The fit of her against the cradle of his hips was seamless and she must have been as struck by the sensation as he was because she didn't struggle as much as he didn't move.
He couldn't have counted the number of heartbeats that passed while they stood together.
Now would be a good time to let go of her, he told himself. All he needed to do was drop his hands and step back. Make some smooth comment about her throwing herself into her work.
Instead his fingers splayed over her waist, measuring the subtle undulations of her rib cage as well as the softness of her sides. He felt her body expand with breath. When she still didn't pull away, he leaned into her until his chest was against her back.
Don't do this, he thought. For Christ's sake, don't you dare do this.
But his body was taking over, drowning out sane thoughts and moral reasoning, replacing them with an insane need to take her. He couldn't think about the implications of what he was doing. He wanted her and that was all he knew.
Moving slowly, Jack brought his hand to the weight of her hair and he swept it aside to expose the skin of her neck. He bent down, bringing his lips close to her ear.
"Callie."
"Let me go," she whispered.
"Callie." His voice was low, vibrating with what was happening between them while he apologized for what he was about to do. "I’m sorry."
He pressed his lips against her skin.
Her breath left in a rush and he kissed her neck again, stroking her with his tongue. When her head fell back, he put his arms around her, his hands wide across her flat stomach.
As his lips came down once more, her head started moving back and forth as if she were struggling to argue. Seizing the moment, he turned her around. Her eyes were luminous with heat even as he got the sense that she was a hairsbreadth away from bolting.
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he lowered his head and lightly put his lips against her cheek. Small kisses, designed to calm as well as arouse, brought him to her mouth. He hesitated.
At the core of him, he knew what he was about to do was very wrong.
You bastard, he thought, as he lowered his lips to hers.
Callie's mouth trembled under his as he softly kissed her, and the sigh that came out of her was all the permission he needed. He kissed her again. Stroking, cajoling, gently.
He knew damn well the restraint wasn't going to last. With every little kiss, his self-control was slipping away, transforming him from a rational human being into a fully aroused male with exactly what he wanted in his arms.
Her lips parted without warning and his tongue slipped between them. He groaned as he felt the warm, slick glide of hers and all he could think of was getting her skin next to his. Riding a surge of lust, he tightened his hold until her breasts pressed against his chest.
Holy Christ, he thought. Nothing in the dream had prepared him for what she actually felt like and he thought of the sofa across the room. Had he closed the door downstairs before they'd gone up? The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted.
But then she pushed him away with a moan and stumbled out of the closet.
Jack cursed as cool air took the place of her warm body and reality came back with horrible clarity.
Before turning around, he took a deep breath and rearranged himself. He didn't think facing her with a rigid erection was going to make things easier for either one of them.
Man, he'd blown it.
She was pacing around the studio when he came out of the closet.
"I'm so damn sorry," he said. "I don't know how that happened."
Well, actually he remembered the whole thing from start to finish. What he should have said was that he didn't know why it happened. Getting used to monogamy with Blair had taken some time, but he'd never slipped up. Not once. He couldn't believe he'd just broken the commitment he'd made.
"I can't...," she started and stalled out. "This isn't going to work. I need to go home—” She pressed her palms to her cheeks. "God! I should never have let that happen. I'm—I don't even know you."
Jack was struck with an absurd desire to recite his vital statistics. Height, weight, Social Security number, date of birth. Marital status.
He winced at that last one.
"It's my fault," he said. "You didn't do anything wrong."
He saw her eyeing the toolbox and then the stairs.
"Wait a minute. Let's not blow this out of proportion." The last thing he wanted was for her to go. "Just because I kissed you, doesn't mean you have to quit."
"Quit? If I leave now, it is not quitting. You tried to take advantage of me."
He frowned and spoke too quickly. "You weren't exactly fighting me back there."
She let out a disgusted noise. "Thank you for pointing that out. That makes me feel so much better."
Jack cursed to himself, thinking he should be more of a gentleman. "I'm sorry. I'm not exactly thinking clearly right now."
Hell, he was lucky he could string a sentence together. Sexual frustration was making his temper short. Worse, in spite of everything that was wrong about them being together, all he wanted to do was get her back in his arms. Naked.
He had to shut his eyes as another wave of hunger pounded through him.
Maybe he should just let her go. Show her the door. Get her out of his life.
Because things like that kiss didn't happen by accident. He'd been wondering what she'd feel like in his arms for real since that moment on her stoop back in Chelsea. And it was a damn tragedy that what had just happened between them had more than lived up to his expectations.
"Should I expect you to try and kiss me again?" she asked.
He opened his eyes and wished like hell he could give her the ironclad answer she was looking for. But at the moment, he wasn't feeling particularly trustworthy.
He dragged a hand through his hair. "I'm in a relationship. I'm engaged to someone—”
"You're engaged?" she said incredulously. "Oh, my God."
Her hands were back on her cheeks and she looked for a moment as if she might be sick because now she was eyeing the bathroom, not the stairs, with desperation.
"Listen, I'm not in the habit of cheating once I make a commitment."
"Oh, really," she tossed back. "So all those stories about your love Me were made up?"
"I said once I commit."
"Well, you certainly don't do that very often, do you?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. He couldn't blame her for looking at h
im with disdain and meeting her narrowed eyes wasn't easy.
"Tell me, Jack, what exactly are you going to tell your fiancée about this?"
God, he had no idea.
"I'm not sure."
"Probably nothing, right? Which is precisely how all those women ended up fighting over you like they did. No doubt they all thought you were their one and only."
"You shouldn't believe everything you read."
"If I cut out a quarter of what I've read about you, there'd still be plenty to go on. Like the time one of your girlfriends chased a half-naked actress through the Waldorf-Astoria lobby? And what had that lovely Cameron Diaz wannabe been wearing? A feather boa across her breasts and a pair of your boxer shorts, isn't that right?" Callie put her hands on her hips. "That was a personal favorite of mine. Featured in People as well as the New York Post. "
He swore out loud, long and hard. "That was years ago. And she was wearing my pants if I remember correctly."
At the time, he'd found the incident hilarious. After the great chase had begun, he'd sat back in his suite and waited until either his pants came back or the woman he'd been dating for six weeks did. Now, in retrospect, and especially in front of Callie, the theatrics seemed immature.
He took a deep breath. "I'm not like that anymore."
"Are you sure about that?" she muttered.
"Back then, I never would have apologized to you because I wouldn't have felt badly. Now, I do. I know I don't have a lot of credibility when it comes to ... things like this, but you've got to believe me. I had no intention of going down that road with you."
She stared at him, measured him. "Have you ever cheated on... her before?"
"No. And I never planned to." He walked over to the couch and sat down, putting his elbows on his knees. "I just got caught up in the moment and I made a mistake. I don't know what else to say."
Her gaze shifted to the window, and after a moment, returned to him. "I'm not like those women you're used to. I'm... just not."
No, he thought, she certainly wasn't. She wouldn't put up with being used and he had no desire to treat her casually, either.
"I know that," he replied. "I found it impossible to turn away from you. That's my weakness. Not your fault."
Her head lowered and she stared at the floor for a while.
"If I stay, it's for the work. Not because I'm interested in playing games. I don't want you to do that again."
He frowned. "You mind if I ask why not? "
"What kind of a question is that? "
"What I mean is, do you have someone in your life?" He didn't really think she'd answer him, but he wanted to know.
"That's totally irrelevant. Because even if I were alone that doesn't mean I'd be looking for you."
He had to smile. "You've made that very clear."
Gradually, the tension left her shoulders and her chin started to drop.
"So, can we be friends?" he asked, surprised to realize how much that mattered to him.
"No, we can't be friends." Her eyes drifted back to the window. "You and I, we are never going to be friends."
He didn't like that answer.
"Why not?"
"We have nothing in common."
"Untrue. We both like art. Dogs. Grace Woodward Hall. I'm sure the list could go on and on."
She shook her head. "I work for you. Just like the other hundred or thousand or however many people make up the Walker Fund. I'm simply one of many—”
"No, you aren't."
"—and I want to stay that way."
"Have you always preferred anonymity or is this just a special case because you want to avoid me?"
"This time I'm choosing it."
Jack's hunter instincts sharpened. "And when was it not your choice?"
Quickly, she turned away. "This conversation is over."
She walked across the room and picked up her toolbox, putting it on the table with a declarative sound.
He studied her for a moment, wondering what had caused her retreat. What exactly she was hiding.
"Tell me something."
"No."
"You don't know what I'm going to ask."
"And I don't care."
More gently, he said, "I just want to know. Did you get hurt by someone?"
She looked over at him, her eyes sparkling with outrage. "You're out of your mind, you know that?"
He stood up. "I'm just thinking it might explain something."
"And what exactly do you think needs explaining?"
"Why you pulled back from me."
The blush that came to her cheeks was just about the most attractive thing Jack had seen in a while. And it was confirmation, regardless of whatever denial she was about to throw at him, that she'd felt the same way he had in that closet.
Her chin rose again. "Maybe it's as simple as I didn't like it."
"That wasn't what it felt like to me."
"Then maybe you just enjoyed it enough for the both of us." Her eyes flicked down to the fly of his pants.
The idea that she'd felt his arousal made him clench his teeth with need.
He knew he should back off. He knew he should just let it all go because if he pushed her too far she was fully capable of walking out on the project. On him.
But he just couldn't. Her defiance captivated him, making the compliance he got from other women seem pale and uninteresting.
"Callie, I don't care if you pushed me back because you don't like me or because I was inappropriate or because I moved too fast. All of those are no doubt true. But I would appreciate some honesty. You liked it when I kissed you."
She gave him a righteous huff. "You ever have trouble fitting that ego of yours indoors?"
He shook his head slowly. "Not in a place the size of Buona Fortuna. I'd probably have a hard time with a ranch or a split-level, though."
She opened her mouth to speak, but then a smile tugged at the corner of her lips and she turned back to the toolbox.
Damn, but he wished she'd share the expression with him.
Jack took a step toward her and then forced himself to stop. "Listen, there's nothing wrong with pleasure and most people, when they're lucky enough to find it, don't want to stop. Unless, of course, they're already with someone or they've been hurt before, which brings me back to my point. You are one of the most defensive, closed women I've ever met. It makes me think that someone's done a number on you."
She glanced at him over her shoulder and the smile was gone. "I have no intention of discussing my personal life with you. It's none of your business as it doesn't impact our professional relationship. And I am not defensive!"
He cocked an eyebrow and smiled softly.
She cleared her throat and looked away. "Maybe I'm just wary of strangers. Which is a very healthy thing."
"Does that mean, if you knew me better, you wouldn't be so cautious?"
She laughed and the rueful edge to the sound was a relief to him. "I'm always going to be wary of you."
"Callie look at me."
It was a while before she did.
"I really am sorry. And you can trust me. With anything. With your life. I'm not going to hurt you."
She frowned and chewed her bottom lip. Seeing her white teeth come out over the softness of her mouth made him forget his good intentions for a split second.
Her voice was almost a whisper when she finally spoke. "But you kissed me while knowing you were engaged. Didn't you?"
He shut his eyes. She had him on that one.
She began taking small jars out of the toolbox and lining them up on the table. "Maybe we should wait for the painting to arrive before we go to the MFA. And I—ah, I think I'd like to get set up now."
It was an effective change of subject and suggested she wanted some time alone. He knew he couldn't force her any further, but sure as hell hoped she took what he'd said to heart. In spite of his actions.
"I'll leave," he said. "But I want you to know that I'm glad y
ou're staying. And that I really do want this to go well. For both of us."
When she didn't respond, he walked across the room. Pausing at the head of the stairs, he said, "Callie?"
She looked up. "What?"
"Are you with someone?"
As her face reddened, he told himself he was stepping over the line again.
Although not as much as when he'd kissed her, he thought dryly.
"What I mean is, do you need time off? Or to have someone come visit?" He spoke casually, trying to cover his tracks.
Because he wanted to know for himself, not to be gracious.
She frowned before responding. "I was planning on working right through."
"And any visitors?"
She went back to the toolbox, pulling out wooden sticks and wedges of cotton. "Ah—no. No visitors."
The shot of satisfaction that went through him made Jack want to curse.
Get the hell out of here, you idiot.
This time, he left quickly.
Chapter 8
As Jack walked back to the house, he looked up at the dull, cloud-covered sky and knew that getting Callie to stay solved only part of the problem he'd created.
What the hell was he going to tell Blair? The only explanation he could think of was that his self-control had slipped.
Which was no explanation at all.
Staying faithful to Blair had never been a problem before. When she'd asked him for monogamy a year ago, he'd agreed to the request and been faithful ever since. He'd wanted her to be happy and besides, he'd begun to think about settling down with her anyway.
Since he'd made the commitment, he'd had plenty of opportunity to fall back into old habits with the ladies. Just last week he'd had another offer, as a matter of fact. Down in New York, at the Hall Gala, Candace Hanson had cornered him and suggested they put an elevator to good use. Take a little trip up the building while she went down on him.
It was curious, he thought. Candace was beautiful in a very made-up, carefully tended kind of way. And she'd obviously been interested and willing. Able too, no doubt, considering all the men she'd been with. Yet he'd found turning her down ridiculously easy.
