Jayne pushed the unpleasant memories away, and focused on the present. On the mouth watering guitar player. Amber could probably have any man in the bar wrapped around her finger in three seconds flat. If he said no, it would be so embarrassing. But I’m living large now. If I wanted safe, I’d be at home in the tub.
Jayne stood and made her way over to the stage. Time to snag her man.
***
“Hey, great playing.”
“Thanks.” Malcolm fiddled with his guitar, trying to tamp down the huge grin that wanted to claim his face. She approached him! Was this really happening? Could it be this easy? If he played it right, played it cool, yes. He looked up at her, schooling his features into an, ‘Oh, you’re still here, but I guess that’s cool’ expression.
She squinted. “Have we met before?”
His heart stopped.
She snapped her fingers. “Yes! You did the music for my company’s party!”
He looked at her as if searching his memory, then shook his head. “I gig a lot. When was it?”
“Last week.”
“Ah, the brokers?”
She nodded.
“I think I might remember a sexy redhead being in the crowd.”
Her smile was a little too triumphant. As an attractive woman, she expected to be unforgettable. He’d have to tread lightly here.
“So I’ll just get right to the point.” She leaned closer. “My friend and I are being swarmed by douchebags.”
Malcolm dragged his gaze from her toes to her hair. “I can see why.”
She paused, clearly uncertain if that was a compliment or a burn. He winked at her, and she continued.
“So, I know you don’t really know me or anything, but—”
“You want me to pretend to be your possessive boyfriend?” He said it like he’d heard it before.
She sagged a bit with relief at his quick understanding. “Would you?”
“Why me?” He shifted his weight, leaning against the stage.
This time it was her gaze raking him from head to toe, lingering in certain places before returning to his eyes. “You’re the hottest guy in the place.”
“And?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the truth.
“And because you’re performing, you’re high profile. And because you’ll be busy, if you turn out to be a douchebag as well, I can escape while you’re on stage.”
He laughed. “Charming. But I appreciate the honesty.”
She tossed her hair. “I’ll even buy you a beer for your trouble.”
“So, what, I should come over on our next break and lay a kiss on you?”
“That would work. As long as you can make it look believable.” Her mouth grinned, her eyes challenged. He rose to the occasion.
He’d played the part of overprotective boyfriend before, but for friends only, banking on his presence alone, never actually kissing them. He set his guitar down and stepped closer, relishing the way her eyes widened when he brushed his fingers through her hair. He felt the goose bumps form on her upper arm as he gently moved his hand up to rest on her shoulder. Brushing his lips against her cheekbone, he heard her gasp when he breathed in her ear.
“Then get me a bottle of Heineken next break.”
***
Her perfume had made his mouth water, but he managed to not sweep her into a tight embrace and carry her back to his apartment like a caveman. Barely. He thought she’d somehow recognized him for a second there, but that was ridiculous. He looked like a completely different person now, someone that most women would think of as their type. Jayne hadn’t seen him since the tenth grade. He’d grown nine inches, added nearly sixty pounds of muscle, and had his teeth fixed since then.
Ten minutes until the next break. Hold it together, Malcolm. What was the best way to get her? They were a lot alike; insecurities were crushed beneath shiny new exteriors. But she’d had a mean streak in her, disguised as passiveness. How would a woman win him over? By being direct, but with style. Letting him know she was open to his advances, but letting him initiate things. The thrill for him wasn’t in the chase; it was in the having. But if he rushed through it and got her right away, she’d lose interest. He had to make her wild with wanting for his plan to work. He needed to be special to Jayne so it broke her when he broke up with her.
Her physical reactions to his closeness betrayed her attraction. Flushed skin, dilated pupils, the way she breathed.
But he needed it to be more than an amazing lay.
He played the shit out of the next few songs, liking the other women who tried to get his attention with their dancing in front of the stage. Their attention only made him seem more desirable.
But there was something he could do to raise the stakes.
“Phil.”
His lead singer looked at him.
“Got You Where I Want You.”
Phil nodded. Malcolm adjusted his mic and swallowed, as the first notes of the slower rock ballad filtered through the massive speakers. Cheering couples crowded the dance floor. Single women pressed closer to the stage.
His cover. His lead vocals. A total panty-dropper.
And he sang to Jayne.
She remembered hearing the song on the radio years back, but it had never been a personal favorite. Until now. The background vocals he’d sung before had done nothing to showcase his true vocal abilities. She heard nothing else and couldn’t tear her eyes from him. He went from open and vulnerable, to aching and raw, notes crashing from his guitar, spilling from his mouth like a gorgeous fountain of sound. He perched on his stool, bathed in the spotlight, bathed in the attention of every woman in the crowd.
And he sang to her. His eyes locked onto hers and she was completely pinned beneath the weight of her sudden desire. He’d been even better looking close up. Maybe it was his presence, maybe it was the insider information from the women in the bathroom. But Jayne had been surprised at how good-looking he was right up close. That he’d been matter-of-fact about being used as a boyfriend, rather than being cocky and arrogant, scored some definite points in his favor.
His deep melty eyes were a perfect mixture of rich brown and green, though that was remembered from their conversation; she couldn’t tell from here. His dark hair shone beneath the lights, his gaze never leaving hers. And then it was over, crowd cheering for him. Could she still breathe? She couldn’t remember drawing a single breath during his performance. He looked away, releasing her from the spell his music had wrapped her in.
Jayne realized there was another unwanted guy sitting beside her, who had been trying to get her attention for some time by jabbing her shoulder with his index finger. He chuckled and poked her a couple more times for good measure.
“Look who’s back.” He retracted his bony digit from her arm. “Hi. What’s a girl like you doing sitting all alone, baby?”
My panties and I are trying to have a moment with the guitar god on stage. “I’m not alone.” Jayne looked to Amber, but her chair was empty and Jayne had no idea when she’d left. Probably macking at the bar while she’d been swallowed in the song. Damn it. Being a bitch was exhausting, but it was the quickest way to slay the drunken hydra. One inebriated asshole was chased away; another sprang up to take his place. Being a bitch didn’t stop the new ones from coming, but it did get rid of them quicker. Being polite never worked.
“No, you’re not alone.” His stale beer breath wafted over her. “I’m here now.”
“Sorry, but I’m really not interested.”
“Well, you don’t know me yet. Give me one night. I’ll change your mind.”
Jayne pinched the bridge of her nose. Why did guys think it was okay to do this? That was the one thing she missed about high school; being invisible. No one paid any attention to her, but she didn’t have to deal with this unwanted, invasive attention.
“Hey, babe.” The guitar player slid a warm hand across her lower back and moved her close without pulling her from her high stool. She cheered
inside for his perfect timing.
“Hey.” Jayne paused, realizing she didn’t know her fake boyfriend’s name. But she didn’t have to fake the attraction she felt for him. He’d said he would lay a kiss on her for show. She swallowed. Would he go through with it, or back out thinking his presence was enough to chase the other guys away?
Questions flew out the window as he spun her around on the stool, edging forward so his hips spread her legs. He leaned closer and winked so only she could see it. Cheeky ba—
His lips. He kissed her like she belonged to him, mouth demanding she respond in kind like they’d done it a thousand times before. His mouth said he knew she’d submit to him and her body vibrated with agreement, melding to his with complete abandon. Holy shit. She squeezed his hips with her knees.
He pulled back and broke the kiss before their tongues touched. She smoothed the front of her shirt and took a sip of her drink, trying to look like she wasn’t contemplating taking him to the bathroom to take the kiss further right the hell now. She had hoped he’d be a good kisser, but she hadn’t been expecting that. He’d certainly surprised her – something not many men did.
Maybe her fake boyfriend could turn into a real one-night stand.
***
My god he wanted to do bad things with her. But being trapped in the spotlight, he channeled all of his wanting, all of his raw emotion into the music.
She didn’t see the guy sit next to her when her friend left their table to go to the bar; too wrapped up in the song he sang her to notice. Great sign. The song ended, and Jayne looked away when the guy started poking her shoulder. Malcolm blinked, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the guy really was poking Jayne’s shoulder. Amateur. Still, the loser’s timing couldn’t be more perfect; he’d only make Malcolm look better by comparison. If she’d been alone when he came to play the part of fake boyfriend, a possessive kiss wouldn’t be required. He’d still do it, but this way it would be more powerful.
Necessary, even.
He smiled, letting the guy annoy Jayne for a minute. Even bristling with annoyance she was beautiful. But whatever, it wasn’t like she had anything special. She was just Jayne. Jane in a prettier, sexier, more confident package. She put her face in her hand, and Malcolm knew she’d reached saturation point. She might walk away from the table in annoyance and his chance would be lost.
Striding over, he purposely ignored the other guy at the table, and the ones standing close by waiting for their chance. Not going to happen. He wasn’t going to blow this opportunity to lay the past to rest.
“Hey, babe.” He slid his hand across the bare skin of her lower back. Her skin felt so soft and warm. Silky in that way only women could be. Must be something in their DNA. Without meaning to, he moved closer, tightening his grip around her. He hoped she didn’t back out of the kiss.
“Hey.” Her eyes filled with relief … and then her pupils dilated.
Turning her chair, he stepped forward, parting her thighs with his hips, claiming her space. He wanted to take her to a dark corner, and make her scream her pleasure from the shadows. He yearned to—Ease up, Malcolm! With his heart slamming in his chest beneath the effort to keep it playful, he leaned closer and winked.
She inhaled, fire entering her eyes.
Her lips could have been coated with poison and he’d still have surged forward to taste them.
Christ, her mouth burned his control away as if the last ten years had never happened. He was the little band geek again, only now he was trapped in the sculpted body of an athlete, kissing the girl who used to make him stutter when he thought about her too closely. And she arched against his hand, kissing him back.
He slipped. He gave in to the curious, needy part of him that wanted her to want him, and held nothing back. Her scent wrapped around him, ensnaring his body like an invisible restraint. She tasted like strawberries and vindication and he never wanted to let her go.
Her knees squeezing his hips brought him somewhat back to himself. Firmly in the present. He pulled back, letting the things she didn’t remember doing to him fill the space between them as a necessary buffer. He’d never win if he gave in to the lust and forgot himself – and what she had done. He had to keep his eyes on the goal.
She trailed a hand down her stomach and picked up her fruity drink, delicately sipping from the blue straw, feigning cool.
But he saw how her chest rose and fell faster than before.
Sometime during the kiss, the other guy had left the table. Guess they’d been convincing in playing girlfriend and boyfriend. Now he just had to convince her that this was something she’d want to pursue outside of a role-playing in the bar.
“Come to my place?” she asked casually.
Yes! “I guess a gentleman would make sure you got home safely,” he replied, just as casually, though he could have back flipped around the bar, screaming his victory.
Jayne smiled like a cat that had the mouse firmly in its slinky little paws.
Little did she know, she wasn’t the cat at all.
***
She’d thought about that kiss the whole drive from the bar to her apartment, sitting in his passenger seat, wanting him to pull over so she could taste a little more of it. A tame little kiss shouldn’t have made her nipples tight, made her this anxious to get him into her bed. But she’d wanted to jump him the whole drive over.
But then they’d have been on the side of the road getting hotter, prolonging the agony of the already too-long journey to the nearest bed. If his hands were as good as his lips, she could expect the best orgasm of her life. She wasn’t going to waste that banging him in his car. Her knuckles were white she clenched her purse so tightly. Almost home. Thank god. This would be good. She hadn’t been this turned on by a kiss in years. Maybe ever.
The key sliding into the lock sounded like a zipper sliding open. She hoped he didn’t see her hands trembling as she unlocked the door. What was beneath his clothes? She’d felt the solidness of his body when they’d kissed at the bar, and she couldn’t get the door open fast enough. Whoa, Jayne. She’d already broken her own rules by bringing him back to her place. She hauled in a deep breath, not giving into her body screaming at her to lose control. He was so contained, so cool. He’d eye-fucked her like mad in the elevator, but kept his hands, and deliciously muscular arms, to himself. Unfortunately. Even through the aching, her ego flared up, demanding she not seem desperate for him. There was something different about the way he looked at her. She had to regain control over the situation, and reel him in.
He held the door open for her, and she walked inside the entry.
The heavy door swung shut, closing them into her home. Step into my parlour …. Jayne would offer him a nightcap and then give him a tour. He wouldn’t jump her during the tour of the bedroom; he seemed more in control than that. They’d end up in the living room, he’d make his move, they’d start on the couch, and then she’d subtly suggest they go to her room. She’d let him take the lead, see if he would finally be the one to take it, to take her where she needed to go.
But that would be happening in a few minutes. She could afford to relax and savor the buildup to that. As long as it only took a few minutes.
“Care for a nightcap?” She took a step toward the kitchen.
“Not tonight, thanks.”
She stopped. What? Jayne swallowed the disappointment. Him saying no wasn’t anywhere on her radar. Not after that kiss. Oh, of course! He just didn’t want a drink. Getting straight to business, not that she could blame him.
“Care for a short tour?” Her lips curled into a knowing smile.
“Maybe another time.”
What? Maybe he really was just being a gentleman and seeing her home.
“Well, thanks for seeing me up,” she said, unsure why he’d wasted her time, why he didn’t want to stay. Had she done something to turn him off? Did he just not want her? Then why would he go to the trouble of driving her here instead of putting h
er in a cab? The kiss had been amazing, chemistry that hot wasn’t one-sided. So what the hell?
She squared her shoulders. Surprised, but resigned not to let him see how he’d rattled her. No one refused her anymore, she wasn’t used to rejection and it didn’t sit well with her. It had been a long time since she’d heard a ‘No.’
She walked past him back to the door to lead him out. No sense him hanging around rubbing his refusal into her wounds. There’d been so much potential in their kiss, and it was all for nothing. It sucked.
“Jayne.” He spoke as she passed him. He stared at her like he could see beneath the facade. It was terrifying, and fascinating, and sexy as hell. He held out a piece of paper. “This is my address. Stop by tomorrow evening at seven. If you’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” she sneered, not taking the paper. Cocky bastard.
He slowly but steadily backed her against the wall and braced his arms on either side, trapping her. He smelled incredible. The look in his eyes made her mouth dry, as suddenly as a more interesting place became wet. She reached a hand out to run over his abs. He grabbed and pinned it against the wall. She moved her other hand and he pinned it as well.
“You think—”
“Shhhh,” he interrupted. “Show. Don’t tell.” He pressed against her, hard, raising her hands above her head. He was so strong, but he wasn’t hurting her – clearly he took care not to. He was gentle but firm; there was no resisting him. Resist? She’d claw his eyes out if he stopped. Moving in for a kiss, he denied her his mouth by turning his head away at the last second. She leaned back, frustrated. He moved closer, lips within reach, but pulled away again as she strained forward to meet him.
Those eyes. Forbidding, daring, teasing her, sweeping her head to toe, burning into her. She squirmed, desperate for his mouth. This time, when he came toward her, she kept still. His lips curved into an approving smile.
The Best Laid Plans Page 3
