Make Me

by BETH KERY

  “This is nice,” he said.

  “Thanks. Do you want to look around a little?”

  He nodded and she led him into the great room, which was a large, airy space that included her kitchen, dining area, and living room. “It came fully furnished, so I don’t know how much it actually represents me yet.”

  “Yet? Does that mean you plan to redecorate? Plant roots in Tahoe Shores?”

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “This whole thing with me taking this job has been a sort of . . .”

  “An unexpected detour off the main road?” he finished for her when she trailed off.

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” She met his stare and found herself lost there for a moment. He had the longest lashes. The dark ring around the outside of his iris highlighted the complex, fascinating color of his eyes. His gaze had an almost hypnotic quality on her. No . . . it wasn’t that. It evoked the opposite of the hazy, dreamy quality of hypnosis. She knew that from experience. Instead, Latimer’s stare was almost alarmingly alert. It seemed to slice down to the heart of her.

  Also: His mouth was indecently sexy. When she looked at it, she couldn’t help but think of him doing things with it.

  “I’m not usually so impulsive,” she found herself saying. “Any detours I take are usually well thought-out and planned.” His lips twitched slightly.

  “Then it’s not much of an adventure, is it?”

  She laughed and tore her gaze off his face. “I suppose that’s what you think I should consider you as well?” she asked, trying to make light of things. “An adventure?”

  “Would that help?” His low, mellow voice seemed to caress the side of her cheek and neck.

  “I’m not very good at adventures.”

  His hand enclosed hers. She glanced up at him in surprise.

  “That’s okay. I am.” His eyebrows arched. He gave her that small, heart-knocking smile that always struck her as sweet and mind-bogglingly sexy at once. “I’ll keep you safe, Harper.”

  For a few seconds, she just stared at him, a sense of strong familiarity going through her again. She gave an anxious laugh.

  The confusing thing was, she had the strangest feeling that he hadn’t been teasing her at all. That in fact, he’d just uttered a solemn promise.

  • • •

  He really had arrived by water. He led her to her townhome association’s pier and a huge moored black-and-white boat. She recognized it as one of the two boats that had been tied to buoys last night at his home.

  “I hope you don’t mind dinner on the water,” he said, leaping gracefully onto the boat and turning to extend his hand to her.

  “No, that’d be great,” Harper assured, her feet landing on a polished wood deck. She looked around the boat while he unfastened the moorings with quick precision. He was obviously very comfortable on the water. She enjoyed boating, but had never been on a craft this large. Strangely, although it was enormous compared to a typical motorboat, its sleekness and aerodynamic design made her think of speed. “Is this a yacht?” she asked him when he approached her again.

  “A small one. But it’s unique because it’s deft and fast, as well. It was specially made for me by a man I know. I liked the design so much, I decided to go into business with him,” Jacob said, his tone making it seem like it was a common, everyday practice for him to start a new company.

  Which maybe it was, Harper mused.

  He reached for her hand. Harper liked not only that he did it, but that he made the gesture seem so natural. Not only on his part. On hers. It felt nice, feeling his hand enclosing hers. Comfortable, and yet thrilling at once.

  He led her up some stairs. Harper counted four separate levels on the small yacht. She noticed another flight of steps going downward from the main deck. She caught sight of a salon of sorts with indoor and outdoor seating, then on the next level—miraculously—a small outdoor pool and cabana. Jacob took her all the way to the top level, where he guided her over to an open-air bridge. He settled behind the controls. Harper sat in the leather chair next to him.

  They didn’t talk as he maneuvered the craft away from the pier and then slowly took it out of the small harbor. The bridge had a lot of high-tech and sonar equipment that Harper couldn’t make heads or tails of, but it was clear Jacob was completely at home. She settled in her chair, surprisingly okay with the silence between them.

  They left the harbor behind and soared into a gorgeous Tahoe evening. The lake sparkled and flashed in her eyes, the brilliant azure color a striking contrast to the dark green, pine-covered mountains, the pure blue sky and the white wispy clouds. She liked watching him handle the craft even more than admiring the stunning scenery. She kept stealing glances at his solemn profile and his agile, comfortable movements as he navigated the craft. Her gaze kept sticking on his strong-looking hands. She thought of what he’d done to her with those hands on the terrace last night—what he’d done to himself.

  She turned her hot cheeks into the fresh breeze, cooling her flash of embarrassment and lust.

  “I thought we could anchor at Emerald Bay for our dinner,” he said, speaking loudly over the sound of the engine and water rushing against the boat.

  “That’d be nice,” she said, gathering her windblown hair at her nape. He did a double take, and she realized she was smiling broadly.

  “You like the water,” he stated more than asked.

  “I do, very much. So do you, obviously. How long have you liked boating?”

  “I was around water and fishing boats my whole life, but when I was about fifteen, I moved to a place that was on a lake,” he said, keeping his profile turned to her as he steered. “I met a man there—a neighbor—who kind of took me under his wing and taught me how to drive his boats. He had a whole collection of motorboats, sailboats, and Jet Skis. I started working for him after school and in the summers. When I got a little older, he’d let me and my friends take his boats for water-skiing and camping trips.”

  “Nice neighbor.”

  He shrugged, his mouth going hard. Did he look bitter at that moment? “He got more than his share of work out of me in return.” He glanced over at her. “I should have warned you so that you could have brought something for your hair. Do you want to go below until we anchor?”

  “No,” she said steadfastly. “It’s too nice up here.”

  He returned her smile. She ducked her head, finding her purse on the deck next to her. “Besides, I have a hair tie in here,” she mumbled, very aware of the continued heat in her cheeks. They’d flamed up again at his smile.

  She told herself it was the speed of the sleek craft and idyllic evening that had her giddy as they flew across the cerulean blue lake, but she wasn’t convinced. She knew the reason for her intoxication was one hundred percent him.

  • • •

  “It must be so incredible,” Harper murmured dreamily.

  It was an hour and a half later and she cradled a nearly empty glass of chardonnay while gazing out at the dramatic scenery of the tall, rugged mountains cupping the jewel-like Emerald Bay. They’d just finished a delicious dinner at a table set for two on the foredeck of the yacht. Jacob had admitted—a little sheepishly—that he wasn’t much of a chef, and that their meals had been prepared by his cook, Lisa. Harper had laughed off his apology. The food had been sublime, the scenery breathtaking, and the company thrilling. He had nothing to be sorry for. He’d been an excellent dinner companion, asking her questions about herself and appearing genuinely interested in her answers. Although his somber watchfulness was his trademark characteristic, he laughed often enough. Every time he did, her heart squeezed a little. There was an elusive quality to him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, something beyond his obvious handsomeness and his aura of quiet yet undeniable power and confidence.

  She couldn’t help but recall her unrealisti
c fantasy about finding a guy who was not only confident, smart, and powerful, but who actually listened to her once in a while. Jacob was a focused listener. He couldn’t possibly be very interested in the boring things she told him about her life as a reporter at the Chronicle or her favorite places in San Francisco or Washington, DC, but he seemed to pay attention to every detail. No, to absorb it. It was probably a short-lived act to get her into bed.

  But if it was an illusion, it was a nice one, she acknowledged. As the sun began to set over the mountains, Harper found herself wanting to believe in it very much. She realized she’d hardly dwelled on her parents’ loss or experienced that swallowing emptiness all night.

  “What’s that?” Jacob asked.

  For a moment, she didn’t recall what had inspired his question. He held up a bottle of wine in a silent query and she nodded once eagerly. For a moment, she didn’t answer and just watched as he tipped the bottle and golden liquid trickled into her glass. The moment struck her as sensual somehow . . . rich with possibilities. He set down the bottle and lifted his brows slightly, waiting for her reply. She recalled her former statement.

  “Oh, I was just thinking it must be incredible. To be you,” she said, smiling and waving at the fantastic scenery and the lovely table that had been set exclusively for them with lavish detail. “Does it all seem passé to you at this point? The mansions, the yachts, being constantly surrounded by beauty and luxury?” she wondered. She’d asked him earlier if he lived in Tahoe full-time, and he’d admitted he also had homes in the Sea Cliff area of San Francisco as well as in Napa Valley, where he also owned Lattice Vineyards.

  He took a moment to reply, lifting his wineglass and taking a sip. “I’d like to be able to tell you that it never becomes background noise. I’d like to be able to say that the ability to appreciate the finer things and the rare opportunities directly relates to just how low and dirty of a place you had to crawl from to get there.”

  “But you can’t?” she asked softly.

  “Sometimes, I forget. Sometimes, it’s easier just to imagine that this world is the one I was destined for, even though deep down, I know it’s a lie I tell myself. Because the truth is, every day, every hour, I have to scramble to keep it. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to work so hard and worry so much. Sometimes, I resent all this,” he mused, waving back at the yacht. “Because I hate that tomorrow I’ll have to be smarter and better and maybe even more ruthless in order to keep it. And yet . . . I want to keep it,” he said, meeting her stare dead-on. “I want more.”

  His eyes had taken on a simmering quality. Harper realized she was holding her breath.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  He shrugged. “The more you have, the safer you are from losing it all.” He met her gaze and smiled slightly. “Pretty pitiful, isn’t it?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she said thoughtfully. “I can see how that mind-set would arise. And it’s not just the things you would worry about losing. It’s all the work you’ve done, too, and all that it meant to you. The struggles. The failures and the victories. All the effort you’ve put into creating what you’ve become. You wouldn’t want it all to be for nothing.”

  For a moment, a full silence prevailed as they regarded each other.

  “You’re wondering if I have the ability to appreciate you, aren’t you? If I’ll take you for granted as much as I might any of the other luxurious playthings that are scattered around me?”

  She started slightly. She hadn’t expected him to say that. The realization also struck her that by “playthings” he might have been making a veiled reference to his other lovers. She laughed and set down her glass of wine.

  “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

  “Would you like me to go easier on you?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. Her smile faded. “Of course I’m wondering about it. I don’t really know how the mind of a brilliant, billionaire software magnate works.”

  “Neither do I. Is there a handbook?”

  “I’m just trying to figure you out, Jacob. Is that so terrible? You have asked me to sleep with you.”

  He picked up his wineglass and took a sip, seemingly unaffected by her wryness. His gaze became hooded as he stared out at the sparkling water.

  “What’s wrong?” she wondered, sensing his withdrawal. Had he changed his mind about what he’d offered last night? That he would help her forget her loss . . . for a little while, anyway. Now, as she wondered if he’d changed his mind, she suddenly was confident about her own decision.

  He was rare. Different. Maybe she was acting out or behaving impulsively in the past year. Maybe she was just running away from the sense of meaninglessness and loss that had filled her life. But she experienced the opposite of loneliness and frustrated anger when she was with him.

  She felt excitement and connection.

  He was worth the risk.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, setting down his wineglass. “Have you decided, Harper?”

  “I think so,” she said. She held his stare and nodded once firmly. A muscle twitched in his cheek.

  “I think you should tell me more precisely exactly what it is you’re afraid of,” he said.

  She hesitated, but then thought, What the hell. He asked, didn’t he?

  “I have a history of getting involved with men like you, and regretting it.”

  He leaned back in his chair.

  “Men like me?”

  “Powerful. Accomplished. Full of themselves.”

  His brows went up. “That’s what you think of me?”

  “No. Which has me a little confused, to be honest. I mean . . . you’re obviously powerful and accomplished.”

  “It’s just the full of himself part that you’re unsure about?” She was glad to see his small smile. He hadn’t been offended by her admission.

  “You’re confident. But that’s not the same thing, is it?”

  “Why do you suppose that is?”

  “What? Why are you confident?” she asked, confused.

  “No. Why do you suppose you’re drawn to powerful men?” He put air quotes around the word powerful.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I wish I wasn’t, to be honest. I was trying to reform my ways. And . . . then you walked up to me on that beach . . .”

  He stood and reached for her hand, taking her off guard. She stood alongside him, her breath locked in her lungs.

  “It’s a sexual thing. Your preference in men.”

  She inhaled shakily at his typical conciseness. “I guess. Yes But it’s only a sexual thing. I don’t want to be run roughshod over or patronized or discounted outside the bedroom.”

  “No one should be running roughshod over you or discounting you in the bedroom, either,” he said, his mouth going hard. “That’s not what your preference signifies.”

  She could only stare up at him, mute. She wasn’t so sure she understood what he meant, but she was curious . . . no, hungry to know.

  “And about what you said earlier: I don’t think it’s unusual that you want to know me,” he said, reaching up to cradle her jaw with both hands. He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. She inhaled his scent. Her body flickered in excitement. He’d held her that way last night, too, both hands cupping her face. It made her feel special, somehow. Cherished. Hot. “It’s just that I have a feeling you will know me,” he continued, his voice a deep, rich seduction. “Whether I like it or not. And I’m not so sure what I think about that, Harper. And as for the other? I can appreciate you. I do. And I will.”

  “Sexually,” she clarified bluntly, struggling against the allure of his quiet voice, his possessive touch and his magnetic gaze.

  “Yes,” he agreed without an ounce of apology. He kissed her lips again, plucking at her with firm, focused caresses.

 
Harper found herself responding wholesale. It was like sinking into a pool of warm, deep water. Letting go . . . but knowing that she could inhale a lungful of fresh air anytime she chose.

  A breathless moment later, he lifted his head and peered down at her upturned face with a narrowed gaze. A small smile tilted his mouth at whatever he saw there.

  “It’s a nice night. How about we go poolside?” he asked.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  This is it. You’ve crossed the line now. Or perhaps she truly had last night, when she’d reached for his extended hand.

  He turned away. Still holding her hand, he led her inside. Harper trailed him, listening to the drumbeat in her ears grow steadily louder.

  nine

  They walked up a flight of stairs to the pool deck. He led her over to a double chaise lounge that included a canopy. He felt customarily unsure . . . uncertain of what he planned to do. He wanted her. Like crazy. But he couldn’t take her in the ways to which he was accustomed. Not yet. He needed to seduce her.

  He certainly needed to prove he was capable of something beyond that rush of heated lust he’d subjected her to last night. Just the recollection embarrassed him. It also aroused him. At the same time, how he usually proceeded with a woman, his matter-of-fact, bold dominance wasn’t any more appropriate than his out-of-control need had been.

  He paused at the foot of the lounger, turned, and again cradled her jaw in his hands. She looked up at him, her gaze similar to that anxious yet aroused one he’d fantasized about while he masturbated twice last night . . . and again this morning.

  Too similar.

  She felt very delicate to him. She deserved to be cherished. Surely he could manage that, for Harper’s sake?

  He kissed her mouth gently, coaxing her to open for him. When she did, her taste flooded him. It made him ache so quickly, when he’d thought himself calm. Recognizing what was happening, he forced himself to be patient as he penetrated her mouth, savoring her. She made him lose control, so he would learn her. He would learn how to master this need.