Velvet, Leather & Lace: A Man's Gotta DoCalling the ShotsBaring It All

by Suzanne Forster

  Damn it. Damn him. She’d never before felt electrocuted every time she so much as looked at him. This was new, very new. Squirming in her sandals, she tossed him a little wave that hopefully said “see how unaffected I am,” and set out to promptly forget him as she went about her work. She’d ordered miles of midnight velvet that they’d drape around and behind the Greek statues to make them stand out and to give a beautiful backdrop for the models and what they’d be wearing. Sitting in one corner of the stage, she began opening boxes of the material, checking the invoices to her materials list.

  But though the material was gorgeous, and her excitement extremely real, she found her mind wandering. All around her came the hammering, sawing, buzzing sounds of the electrical tools of the men, and the chatter of their voices as they communicated to each other in typical male fashion.

  “Damn it, I said here!”

  “Plug!”

  “I’m going to kick your ass, Tom, if you do that again.”

  “Your momma.”

  “Plug!”

  Mia finally looked up. They were all involved in various tasks, working hard in the bone-melting heat. There was a guy at the very top of the scaffolding, holding what looked like a nail gun. He saw her looking up and gestured to his cord, which ran down the ladder and toward the extension cords crisscrossing the stage. The prongs had slipped out and he wasn’t getting any juice. She sank to her knees to fix it for him, got a wink for her efforts, then brushed the dirt from her hands.

  A shadow fell over her. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw scuffed, unlaced work boots. Faded jeans with a rip over one knee and the other thigh.

  And a proffered hand. “Hi,” Jake said.

  “Hi yourself.” She stared at his big, work-callused hand. It was going to be tricky to get back up in the snug skirt she’d worn today, a fact he probably already knew. There was really no way to let him pull her upright without flashing him.

  “Take my hand.”

  All she could see of him was his outline, haloed by the sun’s beams like an angel. Ha! As if anything about the man was angelic.

  Shielding the sun from her eyes, she looked up at his face as she let him help her up. If there’d been any doubt about whether he’d take the peek, it vanished as his eyes dipped, then flamed.

  Instead of letting go of her hand, he tugged her closer and put his mouth to her ear. “I meant to tell you earlier, pale peach satin is my new favorite color.”

  The low timbre of his voice combined with the way he let his lips brush against her earlobe made her shiver. “Jake—”

  “What are you doing tonight?

  “Working late.”

  “So am I. After.”

  “We’ll be tired,” she said.

  “Not that tired.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”

  He grinned, the one that lately melted all her brain cells. “No,” she said, and he outright laughed.

  “I was thinking food,” he said.

  “Oh.” Mollified, she looked at him. “Well if there’s food involved.”

  “Definitely,” he said with a straight face, but she knew he was still amused by her.

  “Fine. Dinner. Maybe cards or something. Now go away and let me work, you’re distracting me.”

  “I distract you?” He looked disgustingly pleased.

  She had to laugh. “Only you would take that as a compliment.”

  “From you, it’s the highest compliment. It means you’re thinking about me. That I’m getting somewhere.”

  “I think about you,” she said. “Too damn much. And as for you getting somewhere, where exactly is it you want to get to?”

  His smile faded at the serious tone of her voice. Looking over his shoulder at all the people milling around, he nudged her behind the stage and into the alcove from earlier, where they were once again surrounded by the statues. Only feet away were a handful of crews and her own staff, and yet standing behind the curtains, surrounded by the warriors and enclosed in a little world of their own, they might have been all alone.

  The memories of what they’d done in this very spot, what they might have gone on to do if her phone hadn’t rung, had her cheeks flaming and other parts entirely flaming, too. God, what he’d made her feel. She hadn’t imagined, hadn’t ever thought… Probably he’d have to only touch her and she’d go poof, right up in flames.

  “Where do I want to get to?” Jake repeated thoughtfully, sliding his hands down her arms to her hands, which he covered with his. “Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

  Hot, and on edge, she stared up at him. “I know what you’re waiting for. Me to get frustrated enough to jump you.”

  “Am I?”

  She wouldn’t, not when it’d forever change things between them, and eventually, inevitably, screw things up. Nope. She was stronger than a few raging hormones, no matter that he kissed like heaven on earth and had a touch that could melt the Arctic. “You’re waiting for something that’s not going to happen, Jake.”

  He brought their joined hands to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles, then put their hands to his chest. Beneath his thin shirt she could feel the heat of him, the steady pumping of his heart. Why wasn’t he kissing her stupid as she secretly wished he’d do? Making her moan with his talented, greedy hands? Making her admit she wanted him?

  See, this was her problem with men. She couldn’t ever figure them out—they were too unpredictable.

  Her entire career was on the line, and this was all she could think about. Being with this man, understanding the game and playing it to her advantage so she didn’t lose.

  So she didn’t get hurt, or end up alone. “I’ve got to go.”

  “I know.” With his hands still holding hers, his long lean body still crowding close, he brushed his mouth along her jaw. “Bye.”

  She didn’t move, just stood there absorbing the feel of him, wanting more, so much more.

  “Bye, Mia.”

  “Bye.” But instead of moving, she lined up their mouths.

  He let out an almost animalistic sound of arousal, then kissed her, a decidedly not short, not sweet kiss, and when he pulled back, they were both breathing hard.

  Then, with a rather shaky smile, he walked away.

  Once again leaving her standing there, pulse pounding, heart going off like a sledgehammer, face flushed, body aching.

  “Damn it,” she muttered, and when Jake just shot her a grin over his shoulder, she growled and turned away.

  He was doing this on purpose, she reminded herself. Making her absolutely crazy on purpose.

  She had a sneaking suspicion that the emotion racing through her wasn’t just lust, but elation. Joy.

  Maybe even more.

  BY THE END OF THE DAY, Jake and his crew were close to finished. He figured they could be done tomorrow, which was actually a day ahead of schedule. Mia could have her full day before the show for rehearsals.

  Still he stayed behind after his crew left, thinking he’d just work a little longer, get them that much more ahead.

  He wasn’t alone.

  There were a handful of others, with Mia leading them across the stage, giving directions as she pointed to the length of the lush plants that had been delivered. Not seeing him off to the side, they all stopped at the base of the catwalk.

  The only person in the group that Jake recognized was Jane, who said something softly to Mia. Mia shook her head adamantly. “Not like that.”

  “Come on, Miss Thing.” Jane laughed. “Show us what you mean. Strut your stuff.”

  “Oh, all right. But take notes, girls, because I’m only doing this once.” Shoving her clipboard and phone at Jane, Mia walked to the back of the stage, fiddled with the staging controls, and a curtain rose, exposing the statues that were still backstage waiting to be craned into place. She turned back to face her group. On her face was the “model” expression. Vague. Sensual. She let out a slow half smile and began to walk the walk. S
trutting. Thrusting out her hips with each step.

  Though he’d seen her play at this before, Jake stood rooted to the spot.

  At the first statue, Mia slowed, smiling at it as if it were alive, running a finger up the warrior’s arm. Then she hip-bumped him, dancing around the back of it, sliding her arms around the torso as she would a lover, gliding her fingers across the belly in blatant sexual invitation.

  Jake’s own belly tightened.

  Then she sashayed out from behind the statue, gave it one last come-hither glance and began to strut toward another, swirling in a slow circle to face statue number two, moving to some beat only she could hear, running her hands up her own body as she danced. Jake nearly swallowed his own tongue.

  When she got to the third statue, the one Jake had pressed her back against to kiss her, she went up on tiptoes, skimmed her hands up its chiseled chest, cupped its face and kissed it full on the lips.

  Jake actually got hard.

  Then Mia began that hip-swaying walk again, stopping as suddenly as she’d started, laughing as she looked at her staff over her shoulder, dropping the model persona with shocking ease. “There. How’s that?”

  They all cheered and clapped while she dropped the staging curtain back down.

  Skin damp, cheeks flushed, Mia shoved her hair from her face and, in midlaugh, caught Jake’s gaze. She went still for one telling moment, then shot him a shaky smile.

  He felt no less shaky. Christ, he could barely breathe. He loved watching her, loved being near her. And though this had been all about fun, it had gone so far past that he couldn’t believe it.

  Unnerved, still aroused, he ran his fingers through his hair and took a long drink from his water bottle. It didn’t help him to face the truth.

  He was in love with her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IN FRONT OF HER HOUSE, Mia got out of her car that night, hot, tired and starving.

  Jake came to his front door, watching her with a smile. “I have food.”

  The thought of his cooking made her knees weak. So did his smile, come to think of it.

  “Your place or mine?” he asked.

  She hesitated only because the last time she’d seen him, after her silly mock catwalk strut, he’d looked at her as if he’d planned on eating her alive.

  Her place or his… “Mine,” she said decisively, then remembered the spectacular kisses he’d given her in her kitchen. “Yours,” she amended, but then thought of his bedroom, which she knew was done in dark, masculine colors and had a lovely huge, welcoming bed. “Mine,” she said again, and he laughed at her. “This is not funny.”

  “Baby, you’re funny all right, and much more.”

  “Which doesn’t solve the problem of whose house.”

  “Mine,” he said silkily, and brooding now, Mia followed him to his door. She stood there on the porch, reluctant to go inside.

  Jake leaned a broad shoulder against the jamb. “I wonder who you’re really afraid of. Me, or you?”

  “Well, I’m not afraid of you,” she said and grimaced when she realized what she’d just admitted.

  She was afraid of herself, and what he made her feel. And that rankled. “Oh, just move.” And in tune to his soft laugh, she pushed past him and into his house.

  He had some ground beef and seasoning frying in a pan, which smelled so good her mouth watered. Or maybe that was Jake himself, hair still wet from his shower. With his natural ease in the kitchen, he warmed up tortillas, shredded cheese and chopped tomatoes and lettuce, making them each a huge soft taco.

  Mia sat on his living-room floor next to him, eating at his coffee table with a Dodgers game on television and the air-conditioning blasting.

  Somehow his place always seemed bigger than hers, an illusion due to the lived-in factor his rooms had that hers didn’t. He spent a lot of time here, and had filled the place accordingly. There was a large comfortable L-shaped couch made for sprawling out on; several equally large, equally comfy recliners and a coffee table he used a lot more often than his dining room table. There were architectural prints on the walls, not for art’s sake, she knew, but because he loved architecture. Not so many personal pictures, but a few—he and a group of friends sailing; he and his brother with their arms slung around each other in front of the American River, which they’d rafted a few summers back, and one of her laughing at some antic of his or another.

  She looked good, she had to admit, head thrown back, eyes sparkling as she laughed. Not something she’d done often lately, buried as she’d been beneath the work she loved.

  A cop-out.

  She could hear Jake saying the words as if he’d spoken them out loud.

  And it was true. Her life lately had been a cop-out.

  Maybe after this fashion show, she’d do something about it. She’d start with that lazy day at the beach that she’d promised herself. Things would be good. She was so close to making her dreams come true.

  And if it hadn’t been for the way Jake looked sitting next to her, all clean and fresh from his shower, his hair still wet, his jaw freshly shaven, his body long and toned in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, smelling like some complicated mix of soap and masculinity that had her nostrils twitching, she might have cooled off for the first time in weeks.

  Instead, she began to sweat.

  “So.” Jake handed her the hot sauce. “The statues are going to be quite effective.”

  He was referring to how she’d modeled this afternoon for her staff, how she’d lost herself in the moment of the work, having fun with her job. With an embarrassed shrug, she met his hot gaze and…inhaled a pepper. Coughing, wheezing, she reached for her water while Jake leaned forward and ran a hand up and down her back until she could catch her breath.

  “I know what you’re doing,” she said when she could talk again.

  “Really?” He took another bite of his taco. “What’s that?”

  “You’re making me want you.”

  “Is it working?” he asked as he ate.

  “Yes. No.” She had to laugh, and then realized how he always did that, made her laugh. She picked up the glass of wine he’d poured her and sipped at it. “I’m not going to let it work.”

  He set down his taco, pushed away from the table and turned to her. “You think I’m playing with you?”

  His tone warned her that the weather had changed but she looked at him anyway. His smile had dissipated, and in his eyes was a seriousness that caught her breath. A seriousness and a hint of male frustration and tempered impatience.

  And genuine desire.

  “Look, Jake. I’m really bad at this.”

  “At what?”

  “Communicating about my feelings.”

  “That’s a bullshit but handy excuse.”

  “It’s not an excuse. It’s the truth,” she insisted. “I haven’t had as much practice as you.”

  Looking amused again, he cocked his head. “What are you saying? That I’m a slut?”

  “All I’m saying,” she said with another surprising laugh, “is that one of us has had a lot more sleepovers than the other.”

  “Because the other claims not to like such a thing.”

  Right. Oops.

  He studied her for a long moment, then took the glass of wine out of her hand. He put a hand on either side of her hips and leaned in. Mouth a mere breath from hers, he smiled into her eyes. “Tell me you were jealous and you’ll make my night.”

  “Of Fluffy? Or Gidget? Please.”

  He laughed and leaned in some more, crowding her, invading her space in a not too unpleasant way that sent her body humming.

  “You were jealous,” he said smugly.

  She put her hand to his chest. A mistake. He was big and warm and so close she could see the light dancing in his eyes, and a good amount of trouble, too. “I’m not going to be goaded into discussing your sexual prowess.”

  “Because we’re friends.”

  “Now you’re just mocking me.”
r />   His gaze lowered to her mouth. His eyes darkened.

  And the feelings stirring inside her definitely went beyond friendship. Her nipples hardened, and between her legs she went damp. “All I’m saying is that I’m on to you.”

  “Is that right?” He opened his mouth and took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged.

  She felt an answering tug deep in her womb as he kissed away the sting of his teeth.

  “I’m not going to beg you to make love to me.”

  “Even if I ask pretty please?” he murmured, dragging his mouth along her jaw to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Really?”

  “Sorry.” Her voice was a Marilyn Monroe whisper now. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Hmm,” reverberated right in her ear, raising a set of delicious goose bumps down her body, the sneaky bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

  And as if that wasn’t enough, he slid his hands up to her waist, gently squeezed and then lifted her, setting her down on his lap. His hands skimmed up the backs of her thighs, urging her legs open so that she could straddle him.

  Then he took her mouth in a kiss that had her head spinning. For balance she held on to him, absorbing his heat and easy strength beneath her fingers, pressing even closer for more.

  At that, he trembled. The unexpected power of that surged through her, and she lifted her head, staring down at him.

  He was sprawled beneath her, long legs stretched out, chest rising and falling with his easy breathing. His mouth was wet from hers, his eyes heavy lidded and sexy as he watched her.

  The cat at rest right before the pounce.

  She just looked at him, thoughts crowding in her brain. He cared about her. He’d worked his fingers to the bone every day for a week to meet her deadline. He’d fed her, a small thing, but the novelty of someone looking after her felt incredibly…good.

  He was her friend.

  He said he would remain her friend.

  And he wanted more. A more that would involve her heart as well as her body parts. She knew this, and it was in fact the reason she’d held back.