Love the One You're With (2)

by Lauren Layne

  “Hell, yes! Jamie has horrible relationship sense.”

  “Unlike you and that … what was that model’s name? She sure was nice.”

  He picked at a flake of pie crust. “Sure. But now I have you.”

  “Only till the end of the month,” she said quickly. Playfully.

  Grace 2.0 gave her a reluctant, praising pat on the head.

  He nodded. “Right. Only till then.”

  Grace ignored the pang. “So, you want to show me your ’hood?”

  Jake gave her a pitying look. “Are you trying to be hip right now?”

  “Is it working?”

  “Not even remotely close. You ready to go?”

  “Sure … where we going?”

  “Not here, Brighton.” He pointed his finger, sweeping it in a circle to encompass the whole kitchen. “My mother has ears everywhere.”

  “And I take it we’re planning on doing something she wouldn’t approve of?”

  His smile was wicked. “Definitely.”

  * * *

  “Wow, your old school. How romantic.”

  “Heather Tanner used to think so,” he said as he put the car in park in the deserted corner of the school parking lot near what looked to be the baseball fields. “Nobody liked to park here because of the trees. Bird shit everywhere. But it makes a nice hiding spot from the main road at night.”

  “And you came here to … study?”

  “Of course,” he said, strumming his fingers on the steering wheel and looking a little nostalgic as he took in the darkened landscape of his high school. “They redid the backstop.”

  “Did you play?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I was all right. Good enough to be their starting shortstop. Smart enough to know nothing would ever come of it.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Baseball?”

  “No … Wisconsin. This city. Your home.”

  He looked briefly surprised by the question, and she wondered if anyone from New York had ever seen this side of him, the small-town boy.

  “I love coming back,” he said finally. “There’s always that moment when the plane descends and I see that familiar landscape, and the warmth I get when I pull into my parents driveway and see my family for the first time in months. But it’s not home. Not anymore.”

  “But New York is?”

  He hesitated. “For now.”

  “You have plans to leave the city?” She kept her voice light even as her heart felt heavy at the thought of New York with no Jake Malone. It seemed wrong somehow.

  Jake’s head turned so that he was looking at her. “I didn’t bring you here to talk, you know.”

  “Am I not as good a conversationalist as Hannah Tanner?”

  “Oh, you’re a better conversationalist, all right. I seem to remember her being overly fond of the phrase ‘Oh, totally!’ But let me tell you … Hannah Tanner knew a thing or two about kissing.”

  “Did she now?”

  His eyes were on her lips. “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Well, where is this stellar kisser now?”

  “Twice married, once divorced. Three kids. Lives on the outskirts of town. Still says ‘Oh, totally’ from what I’m told.”

  “However did you let her get away?”

  “Guess I was destined to kiss someone else.”

  “Or someones else,” she said, trying to keep it light. “Do you keep a rating system written down in your underwear drawer?”

  He tapped his temple. “All up here. It’s like a kissing vault.”

  “I see. And where do I rank?”

  Grace 2.0 rolled her eyes.

  Jake scrunched up his face as though trying to place her. “You know, I remember it being pretty damn good, but—”

  “You really want to but a woman who can destroy your entire reputation with a few carefully chosen words on a blog?”

  He grinned. “But our kissing encounters have been few and far between. I really can’t properly evaluate you without more research.”

  “More research.”

  “Yup.”

  “And what do I get out of this so-called research?”

  Jake’s teeth flashed, white in the dark night. “Come over here and find out.”

  Grace knew what he was doing. He was putting the ball in her court. Putting the decision in her hands. If she wanted him, she’d have to go to him.

  So she did.

  He didn’t move, not when she leaned across the middle console, not when she shifted so she was sitting on one leg to get better leverage. Not even when she pressed her mouth to his, tasting him.

  Grace kept the kiss soft, exploring his mouth the way she’d been dreaming of doing since that first date when he’d cheese-plated her. Hell, she’d been wanting to do this since that first day in the cab.

  It wasn’t until she placed her hand against his cheek, feeling his scratchy stubble against her palm, that he moved, plunging one hand into her hair and using his tongue to press open her lips, exploring her mouth in delicious sweeps that made her gasp.

  They kissed until the windows fogged, their hands increasingly more frantic and more bold as they explored each other. Then Jake’s left hand reached across the car, hooking behind her right leg and pulling her toward him. Both of them shifted and readjusted until she was straddling his lap in the driver’s seat.

  “I remember this being a lot easier in high school,” he said, smiling against her mouth as her butt accidentally honked the car horn.

  To punish him for even thinking about girls he’d done this with in high school, Grace maneuvered until she was lower still, grinding against the hot length of him. Jake groaned and cupped her ass, pressing into her as his mouth found her neck.

  His hand slipped beneath the back of her shirt, the flat of his hand running along her lower back before it slid upward, his fingers brushing her bra strap before flicking it open at the same time his teeth grazed the sensitive column of her neck.

  She clawed at the buttons of his shirt as his fingers slid around to her front, up under the loosened bra cups, palming her breasts as her nails lightly grazed his nipples.

  “This is crazy,” he said, pulling her shirt over her head in jerky awkward movements before closing his mouth around her nipple and sucking hard.

  Grace was too lost to care what was crazy. She only cared about what was right, and what was right was clutching Jake’s head to her while she ground against him like a horny sixteen-year-old.

  Of course she’d never been that sixteen-year-old because she’d gone to a prep school where the boys borrowed their daddy’s drivers, not their daddy’s cars, and nobody would have even thought about initiating such a thing with Daniel Brighton’s princess daughter.

  But Jake Malone thought about it. From the way he was feeling her up, he’d thought about it a lot.

  Their touches became increasingly frantic, each fumbling for the button of each other’s pants before realizing the difficult logistics of sex in the front seat of a car.

  When she hissed in frustration, Jake swore and roughly lifted her off him. “I can’t believe I’m even suggesting this, but …?” He jerked his head toward the backseat, and Grace giggled.

  “How old are we?” she asked in a mock-horrified whisper, even as she climbed awkwardly into the backseat, barely managing to wiggle her hips between the driver’s and passenger’s seats. Jake didn’t even try to follow, instead exiting the driver’s-side door and climbing in the back door.

  Their clothes were off in record time, and he maneuvered their naked bodies until he was above her, his elbows next to her head as he smoothed her hair back from her face.

  She arched against him, but instead of answering her unspoken plea, he hesitated. “Grace, this isn’t … I didn’t …”

  Her fingers traced over his mouth, stopping his words. “I want this.”

  “You deserve better than the backseat of a car, Grace.”

  “So did Hannah Tanner, but that didn’t stop you
then.”

  He let out a little laugh and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Only you would talk about a girl from twenty years ago at a time like this.”

  Her legs wrapped around his waist, tilting up to him. “A time like what?”

  “Grace,” he uttered as she wiggled against him.

  In response she reached a hand down to where he was hard and ready for her, stroking him twice before leading him to her opening.

  “Grace, can we just talk about—”

  She thrust her hips up again, only this time the wanton movement took him inside her, just barely, but enough so that they both groaned.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Shit.”

  He pulled out long enough to dig a condom out of his jean pockets, ripping the wrapper and rolling it on in one smooth motion. He maneuvered them again, moving between her legs, his hands on her knees as he pushed her legs as wide as they would go given the constraints of the backseat.

  She watched him over the rise and fall of her breasts, watched the way his hand slowly slid over her inner thigh until he was cupping her, his thumb moving relentlessly as his two fingers slid easily inside her.

  “I love the way you feel,” he said, his eyes never leaving the hand that was working her over. His fingers circled and teased, bringing her to the edge repeatedly without ever letting her go over. When he finally moved above her, their eyes locking for a split second before he thrust all the way inside her in one smooth stroke, Grace wound her legs around his back as his hands cupped her ass.

  Instinctively her hands went above her head, bracing against the door as he began to thrust roughly into her, the rhythm savage and needy and deep. His arms came around her, moving up until he cupped her head, holding her protectively even as his body slammed into hers.

  Her nails found his back, clawing, knowing that she was leaving marks, and not caring.

  “Jake.”

  He hissed as she said his name, rolling his hips into her. “Again.”

  “Jake.”

  His fingers clenched in her hair, once, twice, and then he went over the edge, calling her name on a hoarse cry as he spilled into her. She found her own release seconds after, her cry echoing through the tiny closed space of the car as she clenched around him, her hips moving in smaller and smaller jerks until the shaking finally subsided.

  They held each other through the aftershocks, her hands smoothing the scratches on his back as he gently massaged her scalp.

  “You’ve got to stop playing with my hair,” she said after long minutes. “You’re making me sleepy, and then I’ll fall asleep, and then your mom will know I didn’t sleep in the guest bedroom with her sewing machine.”

  He brushed a kiss against her temple. “Always the good girl. Always following the rules.”

  “Good girl? We just humped in a rental car.”

  He pulled back then, grinning down into her face. “Did you just say humped?”

  She blushed. “It seemed … fitting.”

  But his smile had faded, and he was preoccupied as he drew absent circles with the top of his finger against her shoulder. “That thing you told my mom and sisters in the kitchen …”

  She scrunched up her face. “When? What?”

  “You said that you weren’t here because of the story. You said you liked me.”

  Her stomach clenched. Oh. That.

  Jake slowly moved one of his hands until it encircled her wrist, his thumb resting lightly against her pulse, which she knew was in overdrive.

  His gaze collided with hers. “Did you mean it?”

  She opened her mouth, but no words came out. What could she possibly say while lying beneath him in the backseat of a car, naked?

  That she hadn’t meant it? That she’d lied to his family, and that she planned to write all about this little encounter on the blog?

  But she couldn’t very well tell him to his face that she did mean it. She’d bet her left ovary that Jake Malone was a pro at giving easy, kind set-downs to overassuming women, and she had no intention of receiving one of those pretty dismissals.

  So instead she met his gaze steadily and went for a compromise.

  “I like you,” she said, watching his eyes go warm even as they went wary. His thumb skittered across her wrist in a gentle flicking motion.

  “But,” Grace said, adding iron to her voice, “I also like baby tigers and hot fudge and too much wine, and a whole other slew of things that aren’t good for me. So you don’t have to worry about me chasing you when this is over.”

  And it would be over.

  Soon.

  “I like you too,” Jake said, his expression once again easy and relaxed. “And Grace … you’re a very close second to Hannah Tanner.”

  Then he stifled her outraged shriek with a very, very long kiss.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Two weeks later, things were still going almost alarmingly well. Far too well for a non-relationship that was supposed to be ending.

  Grace almost wished that their respective bosses had stuck with the straightforward five-dates-in-five-months routine. This whole website business had muddied the waters by forcing Grace and Jake into a more intimate day-to-day interaction.

  Forcing, my ass, 2.0 muttered.

  It was true. Grace liked nothing better than seeing his face first thing most mornings, and falling asleep beside him most nights.

  She was in serious trouble.

  “How do you feel about takeout?” Jake asked.

  Grace dropped her purse onto her counter and immediately kicked off the magenta peep-toe stilettos that she was trying to break in but were currently hell on her arches.

  “Hate it,” she said, tucking the phone beneath her hear and pouring some water.

  There was a beat of silence on the other line. “Really?”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “Seriously? No, of course I don’t hate takeout. Does anybody actually hate takeout?”

  “Health nuts, maybe.”

  “This is New York. You can get anything delivered, even organic, vegan, and gluten-free.”

  “You know what else can be delivered?” Jake asked. “Chinese.”

  “You know, I’ve heard that,” Grace said, making her way into the bedroom to change into her comfy clothes. “Is that your exciting plan for tonight?”

  “Eventually,” Jake said. “Was going to swing by a few of the midtown bars first. See if I can’t find any women interested in a little Jake Malone special.”

  Grace fingers clenched around the yoga pants she’d just pulled out of her dresser, feeling a bit like she’d just been kicked in the chest.

  Had he seriously just informed her that he was going to sleep with another woman tonight?

  And why not? 2.0 asked. You’re not in a relationship. You’re colleagues with a shared work objective who now have regular sleepovers, which I distinctly remember frowning upon …

  Grace knew 2.0 was right, of course. But the more time Grace spent with Jake—and there’d been a lot of that lately—the more 1.0 kept surging forward.

  And considering that 1.0 was a monogamous believer in happily-ever-after, Grace needed to keep 1.0 far, far away from Jake.

  “Grace?”

  “Huh?”

  “You know I was joking, right?”

  She froze in mid-yoga-pants wiggle. “You were?”

  He gave a soft laugh. “Jesus, Grace. What do you think of me?”

  “I think you’re a dedicated bachelor who’s never been in a real relationship and has no interest in trying.”

  “I see. Then what is it that we’re doing here?”

  Her heart began to pound. “We’re posing as a couple for the sake of the story?”

  Grace 2.0 nodded in agreement.

  “And the sex?” Jake asked.

  “Is excellent.”

  “It is. So is the rest of it.”

  Grace dropped her blouse in the dry-cleaning pile. “What are you trying to say here, Jake?”


  He made a little sound of exasperation. “This phone call is not going as planned.”

  “You had a plan?”

  “Yes,” he grumbled. “I was trying to ask you over for Chinese food.”

  “You want to have dinner together? At your place?” Grace 1.0 tittered. They’d always hung out at her place, and this definitely marked the first time he suggested she come over. It felt important somehow.

  “It was supposed to be simple and casual,” he muttered.

  “Just like we’re supposed to be?” she asked with a smile.

  “Yeah, and look how well that’s going.”

  “You know, there was a better way to start this conversation if that was what you were after. Maybe you could’ve skipped the reference to other women?”

  “I was being suave.”

  “No, you were being vague. Next time, try ‘Hey, Grace, want to come over and order Chinese?’ ”

  “That has no game.”

  “Exactly.”

  He sighed. “Grace.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Come over.”

  She smiled at the impatience in his voice. “I just changed my clothes.”

  “So?”

  “So … I look … sloppy.”

  “Good.”

  “You’re not the type of guy that women wear their comfy clothes around.”

  Silence. “Well, maybe I want to be.”

  Go, 2.0 whispered quietly.

  Grace froze. Whaaaat?

  Surely 2.0 wasn’t turning on her. She needed 2.0 to keep her distance. Needed 2.0 to remind her why she absolutely, positively could not have feelings for Jake.

  “The food will be here in thirty,” he said. “I’m texting you my address. If you’re not here before the food, everyone on the website will know all about that jaguar noise you make when you come.”

  He clicked off before she had a comeback, and she stared in dismay at her cell phone.

  She pulled the neckline of her T-shirt out to take a quick look at her bra. Ugly. The panties were even worse.

  But they were comfy. And there was no guarantee he’d see them anyway, since Chinese food was hardly synonymous with foreplay. Maybe he just wanted a dining companion.

  Both 1.0 and 2.0 snickered at that one.