“There’s Dani!” Erin waved her red purse, a signal that Dani had clearly been looking for. A good plan, considering how small Erin was. Dani grinned and waved them over to her tall table, which she’d somehow commandeered. Still, Anna bit her lip as she approached. Their housemate looked like she was going to leave tonight to go kill someone—leather dress, spike heels, dramatic eyes and lips. Anna worried the edge of her own pink dress, wondering if she should have chosen something a little more—
“Stop fussing with your dress. You’re making me nervous,” Dani said, her eyes shifting away from Anna and scanning the room. “And don’t look so deer-in-the-headlights. I’m dressing like this for contrast. I’m not the one trying to catch a white knight, get it? You are.”
Anna felt her mouth tighten. “Well, it’s not like I want a white knight, I just want a freaking date for the—”
“Incoming,” Dani said, cutting her off. “I give him about a seven, but you have to start somewhere. We’re outtie.”
Anna looked up and sure enough, her best friend, Lacey Dawes, the last member of the foursome of housemates at the brownstone, was strolling over with a guy who looked … if not quite right, then definitely not wrong, either. He was tall, easily six four, and he had the kind of square jaw and broad shoulders that would immediately shut up half her friends and coworkers. The look he turned on her was gratifying, too. He glanced down her body and up again, apparently liking what he saw. Anna smiled back, and Lacey swooped in to make the introductions.
“Anna? This is Jim. He’s an investment—”
“I think I know you, actually,” Jim said, looking at Anna more closely. “You go to those networking lunches that Morris-Winston International sponsors, right?”
Anna kept her smile firm, even as her heart died a little inside. Dammit. “I do.” Though they now stood several tables away, she could tell from the quick conference between Dani and Erin that they’d already deciphered her reaction to Option Number One. Great guy, but somehow not the right guy for the job. Anna had actually tried her coworkers and known acquaintances already—she could spin her story of an imaginary boyfriend to someone she knew and worked with easily enough. But she couldn’t tell that story to a guy she might have to sell to one day. That was way too much leverage to give someone. Still, Jim the nonstarter was a good-looking guy, and he gave her something to do while her trio of housemates set off on recon. Ten minutes later, she had a card to tuck into her purse and a promise for drinks sometime—a promise she’d never make good on, given her schedule, but still.
She’d just sent him on his way when another guy leaned up against her table. “Hi there,” he said, smiling at her. He waved down a barmaid. “Vodka cranberry, right?” His face didn’t seem to move when he spoke, and she squinted at him.
“How did you know?”
“Your friends suggested it.” He shifted forward then, his eyes searching her face. “You are quite beautiful, they’re right.” His smile deepened, but it seemed forced. Like he’d been paid to offer a compliment to a slab of beef.
“Ah, thank you,” Anna said, forcing herself to not back away. “And you are?”
He nodded, as if recalling himself. “Charles Wilkens,” he said. He offered his hand and Anna took it—no zing—but she felt a rush of surprise anyway. The man’s hand was smoother than her own. “I work as a chemistry tech for a consumer-product company,” Charles said, his eyes still roving her face. “Yourself?”
“Consultant,” Anna said. “For a company downtown. I work with international businesses, that sort of thing.”
“That must be rewarding.” For the first time, Charles seemed to look at her eyes, not her head. “Working with international business would be challenging, especially as fast as the market is changing.”
Anna lifted her brows at his unexpected interest. “Well actually, I love it,” she said, smiling despite herself. “All of the travel, the different cultures—I’m learning so much every day, I can hardly keep up.” She tucked a piece of falling hair behind her ear, and relaxed a little, warming to Charles despite his rigid posture. “And you? What products are you working on? If I can ask that?”
“Certainly you can.” Charles nodded, scanning her face with his slate-gray eyes. Anna fought a blush until he opened his mouth again.
“I work on a facial-cleanser line. It’s amazing. The power to make such a difference by slightly changing ingredients or proportions.” He sighed with satisfaction, then looked at her somberly. “But I must tell you, Anna, your skin will age prematurely if you don’t do a better job with your cleanser and exfoliator.”
Anna blinked at him. “My what?”
“It’s absolutely true.” As Anna stared, slack-jawed, Charles launched into the perils of inappropriate skin care—and her needs, in particular. She was practically traumatized by the time she came up with the idea to excuse herself to go to the restroom, and she took his card with the most genuine smile she could muster. She’d set it on fire later.
The restroom scene wasn’t much better, unfortunately. Everyone standing at the mirrors had been lamenting the shortage of men who weren’t arrogant asses or total beta doormats, and Anna emerged from the lounge with her confidence in this venture at an all-time low. Her prospects were dimming by the second. Was it so impossibly hard for her to find a guy who wasn’t a complete—
She stopped dead.
Because there he was, caught at the perfect angle as he watched the crowd around him, a bottle of beer in his hand. Wearing that beat-up leather jacket, a tight black T-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans cut for trouble, Jake Flynn looked like the poster child for bad-boy chic. He lounged against the bar, his body relaxed, his gaze hooded as the women surrounding him eyed him with unabashed interest. A smile played at the edges of his mouth, and his smoky eyes fairly drilled into Anna as she stood rooted in place. Clearly, he’d been watching for her. Clearly, he’d found her. When he realized she’d found him back, he straightened, nodded to the bartender, and headed her way.
Anna looked around desperately. The girls were nowhere in sight, probably off rounding up her next slate of guys. So she straightened her shoulders and plastered on a smile as Jake reached her. “Jake,” she said.
“Anna.” He turned to walk back toward her table with her, and then Anna spotted Lacey, who had apparently defended their outpost in her absence. Her friends were a well-oiled machine when it came to being wingmen. So how had they not noticed Jake in the crowd?
Anna’s gaze narrowed as Dani ambled up to Lacey, leaning to whisper in her ear. Her best friend’s eyes widened and she fist-bumped Dani. Who said they hadn’t noticed him?
“You know—I think I need a drink,” Anna said, casting a glance back to the long, gleaming bar. “Help me clear a path?”
“Whatever you want,” Jake said. He took her arm and Anna almost yelped with the physical force of him. His fingers were strong, his body solid as he moved them through the crowd. Anna felt the interested stares of women around her, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t real, it was Jake. A brief respite from the sea of humiliation in which she was floundering.
“So, how has the dating game been going?” he asked.
“Not well,” she said. He claimed some room at the bar, drawing her toward him in a protective movement that allowed her some space from the other patrons, but brought her far too close to him. He looked like he was expecting her to say more, so she shrugged, looking out over the room. “I just can’t seem to find anyone who fits the bill.”
“When is this wedding again?” Jake asked.
“Friday—I leave Friday, anyway. The wedding is on Saturday.” Anna wanted to throw her hands up in the air. “It’s just not going to work. It’s too soon, and I’m never going to find anyone. The whole thing is stupid.”
“Not so stupid,” Jake said. “Maybe you should just give up and take me as your date.”
“Oh, right.” Anna heard the shrillness in her voice. Smooth. “Jake, I barely k
now you.”
“Your housemate Erin knows my family, and we’ve already had a nice chat.” His lips twisted. “I could also give you references, if you’d like.”
“But the wedding would completely suck for you,” Anna protested. “My ex is a nightmare and you would hate all of my friends. You would think the whole thing is ridiculous—because it is.” He just watched her, maddeningly, his smile curving as she tried to sputter out her refusals. “You don’t want to do this. Trust me.”
“I just said I did.”
“But … you can’t … you wouldn’t …” Anna stopped, flustered. What was happening here? Was she actually turning down a viable date? “There’s so much you would have to memorize about Dave. There’s no way you’re going to want to do that.”
Jake just lifted his brows. “You know, for someone who’s just met me, you seem to know a lot about what I would and wouldn’t want to do.”
“I don’t! I mean, I can guess. But I just … can’t.” Anna swallowed. “Look, I appreciate it. If I strike out tonight, I’ll call you. How about that?”
“That sounds good.” Jake signaled to the bartender. “So I guess I should make sure you have my number, then.”
“Oh, well yes. I guess. Or, you know, I could just—” Before Anna could complete the sentence, Jake had a pen in his fingers. They were both leaning on the bar, their faces inches apart. He tipped the pen to its side, sliding its base alongside her jaw. The cool metal on her flushed skin startled her, and Anna’s gaze jumped to his. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Hold out your hand, Anna,” he said, as if they weren’t in the middle of a crowded bar, in front of everyone.
“That’s not necessary,” she said quickly. “I have other people’s cards—you can just use—just write on one of those.”
His gaze grew hotter, more intense. “That’s no good,” he said. “You might lose it.”
Anna hesitated, then something was triggered deep inside her, and she felt a dangerous flicker of pleasure. She knew that flicker, remembered it from somewhere, even as life and work and responsibility had taught her to keep it doused, out of commission. It had been a long time since she’d let that fire burn.
But now Jake Flynn was positioned in front of her with gasoline and a blowtorch.
Someone cleared his throat beside them, and a disgruntled voice rang out. “Excuse me, I’m Gary, and your friend Lacey—”
“Take off, Gary,” Jake said without turning around. His gaze held hers. “Anna?”
Anna held out her hand, and Jake held her arm steady, cradling it with his fingers. Sensation rocketed through her at the intimate touch, intensifying sharply as she felt the smooth slide of ink on her skin. He wrote slowly, sensually, the pen tracing wickedly silken lines on the hypersensitive skin on the inside of her wrist, all the way down until he reached her palm. By the time he was finished, Anna was amazed she was still conscious. Then he glanced at her.
“Think it’s dry? Or should I blow on it?”
“I think it’s fine,” Anna squeaked, and Jake’s lips curved into a smile. Slowly, he dropped the pen back on the bar, but instead of straightening, he reached out and tucked his fingers under her chin, turning her toward him.
With a fluid, practiced movement, Jake curled his hand around her neck and drew her to him, kissing her full on the lips. Anna’s breath stalled in her throat, her eyes going wide as her stomach clenched and her toes curled in her sandals. He pulled back just as shock began to clamor inside of her, and Anna gasped, reaching up to touch her tingling lips as he set her slightly away from his body.
“Call me,” he said. “Tonight.”
“I will!” Anna blurted, before she could think better of it. “Tonight … um, or tomorrow. It may be late, I don’t want to wake you. But I’ll call you, of course I’ll call you. I look forward to—” She cut herself off, finally, but the rush of her response had Jake grinning down at her.
“Or, I’ve got an even better idea,” he said. “Why don’t you leave with me right now?”
Chapter 4
Jake took in all of Anna’s nerves and fear, and knew he should let her off the hook. Hell, he should let himself off the hook. If he ended up with an armful of Anna Richardson tonight, it probably wasn’t going to end safely. End well, sure. But not safely.
And Jesus, that dress she was wearing. He’d picked her out in the crowd immediately, her lush curves drawing his eye in a roomful of stick figures and waifs. He wanted to touch, cup, caress, and squeeze every inch of her, exploring her body like his own personal, uncharted road. His very favorite kind.
Now she breathed in a little strangled breath, and he realized he’d been staring at her mouth, her soft, trembling lips, and then she caught her lower lip in her teeth, an unconscious move that made him want to ball up his fists and pummel anyone who interrupted this moment. Because she was close. She was so close—
“You’d take me home?” she asked, and he couldn’t believe his ears. “You don’t mind leaving this place?”
“Not at all.” Hell, he’d take her out of here over his shoulder if he could get away with it. “You ready to head out?”
She gave him a sad little smile. “I don’t think I’m going to have much luck finding a date to the wedding here.”
Jake felt a surge of adrenaline run through him at her words. “I think you’ve already found him, haven’t you?” he teased, and was rewarded with another soft blush.
“Jake, I already told you, I’m not going to ask you to do that. I barely know you—”
“Unlike all of those other guys you were talking to, tonight, right.” He slanted her a look. “You certainly were collecting enough cards.”
“You were watching me?”
It was all Jake could do not to laugh. “Darlin’, I’ve been watching you for the last six months.”
“Six—” She turned startled eyes on him, and he grinned.
“Oh, c’mon, Anna. You mean to tell me you’ve been strutting by my place all this time in those short, sexy skirts and high heels, no matter how damn cold it got outside, and you didn’t want me to look?”
“My skirts are not that short!” Anna protested, but he could tell by the darker rose of her cheeks that he’d hit the mark. Anna Richardson had purposefully been parking farther and farther away from her brownstone as the weather had warmed, especially on the nights he worked. He kept the garage door up, naturally, because you could pass out from the fumes if you didn’t. And as the sun finally dropped and the day wound down, it had gotten to the point where he’d subconsciously started looking for her. And then consciously started looking for her, and then damn well came out of his skin looking for her.
Sometimes, she didn’t show up until midnight. Sometimes even later. But he liked leaving the bright spill of light there to greet her when she passed his door. And she never wore sneakers, as most of the other Boston women did after their workday was through. Nope. It could be two A.M., and sweet little Anna Richardson would still be dressed up in three-inch heels and dresses or skirts, looking like she’d strolled off one of the vintage calendars on his wall.
He knew she had other clothes, too. When she rolled out of her brownstone at odd hours, hours he suspected she thought he’d be sleeping, she wore the same old boring crap that every woman these days seemed to wear—trousers and shirts, flats and conservative suits. But lately he’d noticed that she’d been saving the best for him.
He had no problem with that. He liked to imagine her standing in front of her closet, choosing what to wear based on whether or not she might see him, holding this outfit or that up against her body, tilting that sweet face, pursing her lips. He liked it a lot, in fact. He’d gotten quite a few nights out of just that image, but it was nothing compared to having Anna in front of him now, soft and lush. His fingers ached to touch her, and he was quickly going from semihard to rock solid while she stood and blushed and trembled not two inches away from him.
“C�
��mon,” he said, unable to stop the rough catch in his voice as he picked up his jacket. He took her hand and she let him pull her through the crowd, though he felt her awkwardness at trailing behind him. Anna Richardson was usually the girl who did the leading, he suspected, not the following. He liked that about her. But he liked turning the tables every once in a while, too.
They came out into the hot, muggy air, and he kept ahold of Anna’s hand, shortening his stride as she fell in step beside him. “Better out here?” he asked.
“Yes. Thanks.” Anna appeared to have regained a little of her strength, and she pulled away from him under the pretext of tucking one of her blonde curls behind her ear. He let her go, but instantly missed the feel of her smooth, soft hand in his. Out of nowhere she continued their previous conversation, as if they’d been chatting the entire time they’d been leaving the bar. “Look, Jake,” she began, her words fast and clipped, like she was afraid she would get cut off before she said her piece. “You really don’t have to keep up the act about the wedding. That can’t be your idea of a good time.”
He thought about correcting her immediately, but he didn’t have a chance.
“I mean, think about it,” she rushed on. “You barely know me, you haven’t even had two conversations with me, really, and here you might be stuck for a whole weekend with me in a strange place with people you don’t know, and some of them are real asshats. I know you’re thinking ‘Well, why do you hang out with them if they’re that way?’ and it would be fair to think that, but it’s sort of hard to disown people you’ve known all through college when they’re all intent on getting married, and besides some of them are really nice. It’s just easier to go along, you know? And of course, I haven’t been going along well enough as it is, because after my ex and I broke up, I just didn’t want to deal with anyone, so I created this whole ruse of this unbelievably sexy guy who took up my days and nights and every bed in between, and people were so not buying that story on its own. So I had to make it bigger and bigger and more elaborate and now … well, I’ve come to terms with the fact that there’s just no way that I will be able to pull this off and I’m just going to have to—”
Fake It Page 3
