It was all Jordan's fault, of course. Everything was her fault. His misery. His lack of sleep. Even Abby threatening to walk out. All of it was Jordan's fault.
Jordan. At the thought of her, a cold fury grew inside him to match the winter storm outside. Jordan. Laughing, elusive little imp, sweet little temptress, maddening deceitful little liar.
But he'd get the best of her, he promised himself. Oh, yes. He would. Tonight. Tonight was Friday and he had a date with his dear little devoted fiancée, didn't he? He did. He was certain he remembered a date.
In fact, he realized, he might even be late. He searched for his watch and found it on his wrist. Right. That was where it belonged. Of course. He checked the time through bleary eyes.
Late. He'd been working late again and it was after seven. Why was Abby still here? He got up to check and found that she wasn't. She'd left after slamming out of his office, probably, but how long ago had that been?
Well, it didn't matter. What mattered now was the fact that he had to go and get his little lying love and he still couldn't touch her. Although how he was going to keep from doing that he couldn't begin to imagine. He glanced down at the suit he wore and decided it was good enough for tonight. It wasn't a black tie affair, after all. Just a business holiday social. A breeze ... as long as Jordan played the role of sweet fiancée instead of trouble on two legs.
What he needed, Luke decided firmly, was a good stiff drink. Then he'd be able to stand the sight of Jordan, no matter what she was—or wasn't—wearing.
He popped into the first bar he found. The extra dry martini was wonderful, but probably not nearly enough to numb him sufficiently for the optical assault of whatever almost-naked outfit she'd be wearing tonight. So he had another and felt instantly better. A third ... and he felt confident that he could get through the night without committing murder, at least.
By the time he rang her doorbell, he was even looking forward to the sight of her. Only he wasn't expecting two of her. Luke frowned and stared until the images stopped wavering and melded into one. That was a relief. One Jordan was bad enough. Two was too much for any man to deal with.
And then his eyes managed to focus on what she apparently—and mistakenly—thought was an appropriate dress for the occasion. “Hello, Jordan,” he sneered. “You look like you always do, of course. I hope you don't plan on bending over, or everyone in the room will see your nipples."
Jordan eyed him suspiciously. Rudeness wasn't completely out of character for Luke, but still that was a rather nasty crack. She stepped closer and sniffed. Whoa. He smelled like a distillery. She didn't know how much he'd had to drink, but he definitely wasn't driving anywhere else, that was for sure.
"You look terrible,” she informed him politely.
"Thank you. I feel terrible. Are you ready?"
"Yes, but we have to take a taxi. Come in and wait."
"No.” He frowned at her. “You'll tear off what's left of your clothes and attack me."
Jordan considered telling him that in his present condition it wasn't likely to do her any good ... but for the sake of his male ego she held her tongue. Sadly, she didn't think Luke was quite functional any more. Too bad, really; attacking him had definitely been in her plans.
She guided him to the sofa then called a cab. Then she made him some coffee and pushed the cup into his hand. “Here, Luke, I think you need this."
"Stop telling me what I need.” He took the cup and scowled at her ferociously.
It made her want to kiss him. He was adorable when he scowled. He did it so very well. “Of course,” she responded in a placating tone.
"And don't humor me. I'm not a child."
"No, of course you aren't.” Jordan looked suitably shocked at the very idea.
Luke glared at her over the rim of the coffee cup and sipped. “Jordan, why do you insist on dressing in such a provocative manner? This is a business social. You're supposed to be my fiancée, not someone from an escort service. Don't you have anything you can put over ... that?” He waved his hand in the direction of her flagrant cleavage.
She smiled winningly. “I could always wear the camisole again."
He closed his eyes and moaned. “Never mind. Where's that taxi?"
She got up to check the window. “Right here. Come on, I'm ready for you to introduce me to your buddies."
There was something funny about that, Luke thought. Wasn't there...? Yes. He remembered. It was part of the plan.
"That's my plan,” he informed Jordan proudly. Then he laughed. “I'm going to introduce you to everyone."
He really seemed to be looking forward to it, Jordan thought in amusement. And she was, too. Luke Foster, the ever practical, ever calm, ever controlled, was bombed out of his skull and in a state to start a riot all on his own.
She wouldn't miss it for the world.
"Well, then, let's go,” she suggested as she collected her cape and keys.
"Right.” He led the way, then stopped abruptly and she plowed into his broad back. Then he turned to face her again. “Just don't bend over. Got that?"
"I won't bend over,” Jordan agreed soberly, but inwardly she was bursting with laughter. She'd figured the low-cut dress would get to him. She'd been right.
He continued to stare down at her and she realized he was looking down at her revealing cleavage. “Don't you ever wear a bra, Jordan?” Luke inquired in the same impersonal way he might ask the time.
"No."
He let out a pained sigh. “I didn't think so. Remind me to buy you a bra. A whole bunch of bras, in fact. Hundreds of them, all of them going from your waist to your neck."
Jordan giggled at that description. “I really don't think that's necessary, Luke."
"You don't really think, Jordan,” Luke informed her heavily. He climbed into the cab with her and gave the address. Then he noticed the driver's gaze in the rearview mirror was on Jordan's bosom and he frowned. “That's my fiancée, buddy,” he growled at the man. “Keep your eyes off her or they're going to turn black and swell shut after a close encounter with my fist."
The cabbie hastily averted his gaze and drove them in silence to their destination.
Jordan laughed at Luke's fierce expression. “Luke, you're going a little overboard, aren't you?"
He turned his scowl on her. “No. And you'd better remember to stand up straight."
She fought a smile successfully. But just barely. “Yes, Luke,” she agreed calmly.
It was certainly going to be a night to remember, one way or another. He continued to scowl at her until they arrived. Then he turned the scowl on the cab driver and fumbled for the fare. He handed it over with another glare for good measure.
Jordan tried not to laugh and he swung around to face her. “I'm glad you're amused. Maybe some day you'll actually look in a mirror and realize that your breasts are bare for the world to see and the sight will motivate you to start covering them on rare occasions."
"But Luke, think of all the fun I'd miss,” she pointed out reasonably. She reached up to straighten his tie since at some point he'd yanked at the knot to loosen it.
"Think of all the misery you'd prevent,” he countered.
"I didn't think the cabbie looked miserable."
His hands shot out to grip her shoulders and he shook her hard enough to nearly make her burst out of her dress. “Some day, Jordan, you'll be sorry,” he threatened. Then he eyed the straining fabric and groaned before he reached down in a vain effort to try to pull it up higher.
"Luke, it's as high as it goes. And I won't bend over—you have my solemn oath."
He sneered at that. “As if your solemn oath means anything, you professional liar.” Then he gave up and pushed her along towards the door. “Come on. I think I need another drink. I can see you far too clearly."
Jordan would have been insulted if he hadn't produced such a marvelous exhibition of masculine jealousy and raging possessiveness. He wasn't offended at the sight of her. On the con
trary. He was enjoying the sight all too much and being unable to do anything but look was evidently beginning to get to him.
About time, too. She'd had enough of the don't touch policy long ago. Tonight she intended to see to it that he'd had enough of it too. Even if he wasn't functioning fully by the end of the evening, there was always tomorrow, she thought with serene assurance.
She smiled and made polite conversation with all of Luke's business acquaintances, who seemed to sense his dangerous mood and kept a wary and safe distance. Luke continued to make frequent trips to the wassail bowl whenever he gazed overly long at her revealing neckline. In between trips, he stayed protectively by her side, glaring like a madman at anyone he thought might be deliberately ogling her.
Jordan finally decided it was time for a distraction. “Why don't we dance?” she suggested pleasantly to the glaring madman.
"Sure. Why didn't I think of that? Then you can wrap your arms around me and slither all over me."
"Yes, exactly,” Jordan agreed cheerfully. “Come on."
She led him to the dance floor and proceeded to wrap her arms around him, but drew the line at slithering. It did sound like fun, but he really was in such an ugly mood he was not likely to take it well.
Luke sighed and tightened his hold on her until she was pressed firmly against him. “I can't take this anymore, Jordan,” he informed her in tortured tones.
"Good. Me either."
"Good.” Luke was silent for a while as they danced. “Then you agree it's time we ended this farce of an engagement."
"Yes, Luke, I do."
He didn't seem to expect that. In fact he came to a rather abrupt halt and glared at her suspiciously. “What do you mean by that?"
She smiled innocently at him. “I mean you're right."
He frowned darkly. “What do you mean, I'm right? You're not getting out of this, Jordan. You're not throwing that ring back in my face. You already tried to do that before I even got it on you."
"I just agreed with you,” she pointed out calmly.
That seemed to enrage him. He gripped her shoulders and bellowed, “Don't you talk to me like that! How dare you stand there and agree with me?"
It was too ridiculous. She tried, she really tried—but couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling up between her lips.
He started shouting even louder. “Oh, you think it's funny, do you? Well, laugh away, sweetheart, because you won't be laughing tomorrow. You're not leaving me, Jordan. You will marry me and you'll smile when you say I do or you won't be able to sit down for a week!” Then he grabbed her and dragged her towards the door. “We're leaving, Jordan, so get your things."
"Yes, Luke."
The mild response didn't appease him. “Jordan, just shut up and do it."
"Yes, Luke."
He stopped and lifted her to eye level—the better to scowl at her, she assumed. “Not one more word out of you, imp. Not a peep. Not a sound."
She started to open her mouth to agree, then thought better of it and nodded instead.
"Good. I'll get a cab.” She had to smile at that. “And keep your cape on this time,” he added darkly. “I'm not going to sit there quietly while some man looks down your dress."
"Yes, Luke."
"Shut up, Jordan."
He was grimly silent on the way to his place but Jordan was gloating inwardly. She'd gotten to him, all right. He'd had it with the don't touch nonsense and he'd had it with the phony engagement, too. He'd actually roared at her that she wasn't getting out of it. That she'd have to marry him and even smile while doing it.
Not exactly the most romantic proposal in all of human history, but she'd take it. More to the point, she'd take him. She was madly, wildly, passionately in love with Luke Foster and it was time to tell him so.
She tried to do just that, but he clamped a hand over her mouth and glared a warning, so she guessed it would just have to wait. And that was too bad, because she had a feeling that the news would go a long way towards improving his mood.
Although there was definitely something to be said for his present scowling state. It did things to her. It was exciting. It was really too bad that Luke had consumed so much alcohol that he was probably in no condition to consummate their relationship.
Chapter Eleven
"Come on, Luke, we're almost there. Just a little further,” Jordan encouraged. She had him nearly to the bedroom now, which was miraculous, considering his condition. He was draped heavily over her and she staggered under the weight—but he wouldn't have even made it through his front door without her support.
The after-effects of overindulgence. And she had a feeling it was only the beginning of his suffering for the drinking binge he'd decided to indulge in. He wouldn't be in much better shape in the morning.
She managed to heave, shove and cajole him onto the bed. Luke immediately slumped over, leaving her free to undress him without interference. Jordan quickly removed his shoes, socks and tie and then wrestled him upright to get him out of the jacket and vest before tackling the buttons on his shirt. She'd managed to tug the shirt free and was preparing to slide it off when he started to struggle and slap at her hands.
"Cut it out, Jordan,” he muttered. “Stop undressing me."
"You can't sleep like that, Luke, be reasonable.” She got his shirt free and searched for the fastening at the waistband of his pants.
"Jordan. Jordan, God, don't,” he groaned and grabbed at her hands to still them.
"Luke, I have to take your pants off,” she stated firmly. “If you won't let me, then do it yourself."
"No.” He opened his eyes to stare bleakly at her. “I know what you're trying to do. You want to attack me and have your way with me."
Well, she did, but not just then. Although he was awfully cute, defending his honor against her imagined lusty advances.
"Why not?” she asked sweetly, running her fingers under the waistband in a teasing gesture.
He frowned at her. “I am not that kind of man."
"That's too bad,” Jordan sighed. Then she proceeded to undo his pants and tug them down.
"I mean it, Jordan,” he ground out, fighting for possession of the pants. “Keep your hands to yourself. You aren't getting my body."
She won the fight easily and hung his pants over a convenient chair with the rest of his suit. “But Luke, it's such a great body,” she informed him. It was. All of it. Even in his present muddled state, he was devastating.
"Well, you can't have it.” His hands went protectively to his jockeys as if he thought she meant to take those next. “Not without marrying me."
She bit back a smile and just to be contrary took his underwear while he protested and struggled. “But Luke, I will marry you,” Jordan promised as she removed his last piece of clothing.
"You're lying.” He glared at her ferociously. “You'll say anything to get your way. You don't mean it."
"Yes, I do.” Jordan smiled at him and kissed away his frown. “Now be good and get into bed."
"No. I'm not getting into bed with you again. You'll take off the few clothes you ever bother to put on in the first place and I won't be able to defend myself.” Luke glared some more and pushed her hands away.
Jordan smiled even wider and unzipped her dress. His eyes bulged gratifyingly as the dress fell to the floor and she stepped out of it, wearing nothing but panties and shoes. Then she got rid of those, too, figuring she was properly dressed for the occasion wearing nothing but a smile.
Luke groaned and closed his eyes. “Go away,” he demanded.
"No."
"Please, Jordan."
"That's what you'll be saying,” she murmured throatily. “Please, Jordan, more.” She climbed onto the bed and wrestled him under the covers. He was heavy and very uncooperative, but she managed eventually.
"You're naked,” he accused, giving her a wounded look. “Why are you always naked?"
She smiled sweetly at him. “It makes it easier to ravish
helpless men."
He clamped his hands onto her arms in a vise-like grip at that remark. “You'd better not ravish any other helpless men,” he declared threateningly. “It's bad enough that you flaunt your body at me the way you do. No other men, Jordan, do you understand? I won't put up with it."
"Yes, Luke, I understand. But then who am I going to ravish?” Jordan inquired in sweetly reasonable tones. “You won't let me ravish you."
He frowned in confusion at that question, and she took advantage of his distraction to get him the rest of the way into bed and joined him before he could come up with another complaint about her presence.
It was a good thing Luke had a hot tub. She had a feeling he was really going to need it in the morning. Between that, coffee, aspirin and orange juice, she thought he just might survive the sunrise.
Luke rolled over and without warning hauled her into his embrace. “You can ravish me,” he offered in a somewhat slurred declaration. “But you have to marry me and you can't leave me in the morning."
"Well, now, there's an offer that would stun any woman,” Jordan murmured teasingly. “I accept. But I don't think you're up to any ravishing right now. Maybe you should just go to sleep."
"I can't sleep and it's all your fault,” he accused bitterly. “You lie there naked and taunt me all night long, telling me what you're going to do to me, but then you never do."
Jordan's eyebrows shot up at that admission. So she was haunting his nights, was she? She liked that idea. Some ghost of Christmas present that would make. She'd always wanted to be an incubus. Or was it a succubus? She wasn't certain which one was female.
"Succubus,” she decided out loud. That was the proper term. A wicked spirit that descended on a helpless man in the night and ravished him relentlessly.
"Succubus,” Luke agreed. “That's what you are. You tease and torment me and I can't take it anymore. I want you, Jordan. I want you and I want you now. I want to be inside you. I want to take you so hard and so fast that you won't be able to get away."
Yule Be Mine Page 13
