Playing to Win

by Sami Lee

  Before he could verbalize an agreement, Libby was striding out of the office, expecting him to follow. Jake watched her exit, his gaze lingering on the sway of her hips, the unexpected lushness of her behind in the fitted dress. He followed, if for no better reason than to keep her in his line of sight.

  It was one of life’s cruel jokes that a woman with an ass like that could be a royal pain in his.

  They descended the stairs in silence, coming out in a small underground parking garage. Jake recognized Libby’s older-style convertible from yesterday—a model that was more looks than substance. People usually bought cars that reflected something about their personality, didn’t they? That’s her, Jake. A lot of pretty upholstery but nothing interesting under the hood, so stop wondering what it would be like to take her for a test drive.

  As Libby turned the car into the flow of traffic with a screech of tires, Jake asked, “So how did you and Morticia end up in business together?”

  Libby flicked him a frowning glance. “Miranda is a really wonderful person once you get to know her.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Wonderful person was not a phrase that leapt swiftly to mind when Jake pictured the intimidating woman he’d just met. “You and she don’t seem like two people who’d gel.”

  “Because she reminds you of Morticia Adams and I’m more like…who?”

  “That chick from the movie where she takes her Chihuahua to law school in a Prada handbag.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Jake wasn’t entirely sure he’d meant it as one, but Libby did have a particular kind of vivacious sexiness that wouldn’t be out of place in front of a camera. The way she dressed with her own brave sense of style, the effervescent aura that surrounded her—she was like a tropical bird whose purpose in life was to garner the attention and admiration of lesser species.

  Too much trouble, Jake reminded himself, trying to resist the temptation to check out her legs now that her skirt had ridden farther up her thighs. Damn. Not so easy to disobey that particular urge. Thank God for dark sunglasses.

  “Miranda and I met at university when we answered the same ad for accommodation in a share house with three guys. We bonded over our mutual annoyance that the toilet seat was perpetually in the upright position.”

  Jake groaned. “Women have such a thing about that. Why don’t you just put it down again?”

  “Why don’t you?”

  He really didn’t know, so he steered the conversation away from that potential minefield. “How did you end up hanging out a shingle together?”

  “We kept in touch after we graduated. I told you, Miranda is a good person once you get to know her. It’s just that men tend to be a little intimidated by her confidence.”

  “Yeah,” Jake muttered. “That’s what it is.”

  “Anyway, about a year and a half ago, we both unexpectedly found ourselves out of a job—the economic downturn and all that. We were commiserating over ice cream and tequila shots when the idea for Image Solutions was born. I didn’t think it would come to anything, but while I was sleeping the day away, regretting my decision to combine boysenberry ripple with Cuervo, Miranda was drafting a business plan.” Libby smiled, the expression full of pride. “She’s unstoppable.”

  “Kind of like a cyborg.”

  “And she’s my friend.”

  There was a distinct note of warning in Libby’s voice, and the message couldn’t be clearer—lay off Miranda. Jake accepted the censure as his due and made a zipping motion across his mouth, turning his fingers to indicate his lips were locked on the subject from now on. Libby rolled her eyes before returning her attention to the road—just in time to slam on the brakes to prevent rear-ending a late model SAAB.

  Jake looked at her but she didn’t seem the least perturbed by the near incident. “Are we in any particular hurry?”

  “No. You’re my only appointment for the day.” She seemed obscenely gleeful at the prospect of having him at her mercy for what could end up being all day. “Why?”

  The traffic light changed to green and Libby accelerated with a roar, immediately changing lanes to go around the SAAB. She began tailgating some other unsuspecting motorist in a Peugeot.

  If Jake had been Catholic, he might have crossed himself. Instead, he leaned back in the passenger seat and concentrated on the view of the Brisbane River passing by. All the better to avoid noticing the wealth of potential hazards on the road ahead of them.

  “No reason,” he replied, sensibly refraining from taking aim at her dubious automobile handling skills. She was an erratic driver in a good mood. He didn’t want to know what she was like in a bad one.

  * * * *

  Four hours later, Libby’s enthusiasm for this project was flagging. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Jake McCallum was turning her off shopping.

  “Just try it,” she urged for the umpteenth time that morning. She was afraid her jaw was going to set in a painful lock from the effort of clenching her teeth. “What could it hurt to put it on?”

  Jake eyed the shirt as though he found it personally offensive. “It’s purple.”

  “It’s lavender.” Honestly, the man must be color blind if he couldn’t tell the difference between purple and lavender.

  “I don’t wear girly colors.”

  “Just because you haven’t worn something before, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I think it would look great with the charcoal suit. Not at all girly.” Libby held the shirt up against Jake’s chest, picturing the garment on. Girly—ha! Like Jake McCallum could be mistaken for anything other than one hundred percent testosterone-fueled, aggravating male.

  “Is that right?” There was a different quality to Jake’s voice that made Libby glance up. Holding the shirt up to his chest had brought her too close to him. She could feel the heat of his body on her knuckles where they rested against his shoulder. There was firm muscle beneath that material. There was also a wealth of knowledge in the green depths of Jake’s eyes, as though he’d read in her face the awareness that suddenly gripped her body.

  Libby took a purposeful step backward. It wasn’t the first time today a spark had arced between her and Jake. It had been happening at odd times since that moment in the office when she’d found herself unable to break eye contact with him. His eyes weren’t merely green, they were pure green, undiluted by any other color. Green like a rainforest or lush moss. And when he smiled, they glimmered and crinkled at the corners in a way that made a girl’s heart take notice.

  Miranda had often accused Libby of being a magnet for losers—or fixer-uppers, as she referred to them. Men who required a little refurbishment before they became acceptable relationship material, men who were sexy and charming but who hadn’t quite grown up yet. Men who appealed to her innate need to nurture and care for things.

  Men like Jake McCallum.

  Perhaps she ought to get a cat. It might cure her of her penchant for picking up strays of the human male variety.

  “Just try it on.” Her roiling thoughts made her voice flinty, but she was beyond caring. Cajoling and flattery had gotten her exactly nowhere with this man, which left her with few options besides outright bullying.

  “All right, I’ll do it,” Jake groused. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

  “My panties are perfectly unbunched, thank you very much. Not that you’ll ever find out the condition of my underwear.”

  “Testy, testy.”

  The half smirk on his face told Libby he was intentionally provoking her and taking some satisfaction from watching her unravel. Libby narrowed her eyes. “You are an awful, awful man.”

  “Aw, come on. I’m actually a good person once you get to know me.”

  With a wink, he took the shirt and suit into the changing room and pulled the curtain across. Libby willed herself to get her anger in check. It was past lunch time and her tummy was rumbling, shortening her temper. But she couldn’t call it a day with Jake until sh
e made some progress in the outfit department. They’d been in and out of menswear stores all morning, and they hadn’t yet managed to agree on anything.

  Libby waited outside the booth, staring into space and formulating a plan of attack for the rest of the day. She wasn’t looking at anything particular, just…staring…at the change cubicle. There was a gap where the modesty curtain didn’t reach all the way to the edge. It wasn’t wide, but it gaped enough so she could see the mirror inside the space. In that mirror she saw an arm—a bare arm, then a naked chest as Jake hauled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.

  Oh. My.

  She’d thought there was firm muscle beneath those clothes, but she hadn’t been prepared for a full frontal view of Jake’s chest. Nice, well-developed pectorals lightly dusted with soft-looking brown hair. Strong, muscular biceps. A trail of dark brown hair ran from his lower sternum to his navel, getting darker and thicker as it disappeared into the waistband of the trousers he’d already put on, the snap left undone so she could see the top of his grey underwear.

  She was not going to look any farther down. She was not.

  Well, okay. Maybe a peek.

  He seemed to be built well there too, not that you could tell much through a pair of pants. Besides, size had never been a priority to Libby. Most of the guys she’d dated…

  Her thoughts trailed off as the sensation of being watched began to raise hairs on her nape. Oh, no. Please, no. But when Libby reluctantly lifted her gaze, it connected in the mirror with Jake’s amused, all too knowing one.

  She was sprung. She’d been checking out what he was packing below his waist and he knew it—and she knew he knew it. Libby couldn’t have been more embarrassed if he’d seen her half naked.

  With a start, she whirled away, the action too hasty to project the casual dismissal she wanted it to. Her shoulder bag swung wide, connected with a rack of silk evening shirts and knocked several of them off. The designer garments sprawled out on the marble floor. Hastily, Libby dropped to her haunches and began to gather them up. This was not the kind of store where one could be cavalier with the products.

  She sensed the saleswoman’s disapproving glance. “It’s okay. I’ve got them,” Libby assured her. Standing quickly, she started placing the shirts back on the rack. It was amazing how difficult it was to wrangle a coat hanger when you were flustered. It took her several tries to line up all the shirts the way they had been before.

  If it wasn’t bad enough she’d been caught ogling the most annoying man in the known universe, she didn’t possess the sangfroid to be cool about it.

  “You’re not exactly the most balanced individual, are you?”

  Libby forced herself to meet Jake’s eyes even while she knew her face must be as red as a traffic light. “Everyone stumbles occasionally.”

  “Uh-huh.” He didn’t sound like he believed a word of it. “So what do you think?”

  Libby gaped. “What do I think of your…” She waved an arm helplessly and then abruptly stopped when she realized she was waving it in the general vicinity of his crotch.

  Jake smiled, clearly amused by her discomfiture. “I meant what do you think of the suit?”

  Yes, right. The suit she’d spent fifteen minutes convincing him to try on. She steeled herself to appear nothing but professional, even critical, as she ran her gaze over his appearance.

  Wow. He’d been trying on clothes all morning and Libby had managed to remain relatively calm. But on the back of seeing him in the flesh, the last thing she was prepared for was how divine he looked in a suit.

  “It’s, um…perfect.” At least he was perfect in it, even given the shaggy hairstyle and the sardonic lift of his brow. The jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and tapered in to show off his narrow waist. The silk shirt was a classy touch, and not at all effeminate—at least not with Jake and all those toned muscles inside it. And the trousers… Well, they housed the rest of his assets.

  At last, she mustered a coherent sentence. “It looks very good on you. I insist we get it.”

  “Okay.”

  His easy agreement was astonishing after a morning of dogged dissent. “Really?”

  “Sure. You’re the expert.”

  “To be clear, I’m talking about the shirt too.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll even get the shirt. It’s not like I’ll be wearing it around the guys anyway.”

  No doubt there’d be plenty of girls he could show it off to instead. Libby was surprised at the ridiculous surge of jealousy. He could bed entire cheerleading squads—based on evidence he probably had—and it would be no concern of hers.

  “Well, all right then. Why don’t you take it off and I’ll have the sales clerk box it up.”

  “What—here?” Jake glanced at the saleswoman, who was momentarily distracted by another customer. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to knock over anything else.”

  “Oh, ha ha.”

  Jake shucked the suit jacket and handed it to her, then proceeded to go to work on his shirt buttons. “I know you’re interested in the goods, chickadee, but can’t you wait until we go somewhere more private?”

  “Shut up, Jake.”

  “Somewhere like this?”

  Suddenly, he grasped her wrist and tugged forward. Her body careened into his while he backed them both into the changing booth. His shoulders connected with the wall and Libby came flush up against his chest, her breath escaping with a shocked whoosh.

  She was too stunned to move at first. Then Jake’s arms were around her and she couldn’t escape—she wasn’t sure if she wanted too. All that hard flesh and those strong arms holding her close… It wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

  “Jake,” Libby whispered, dismayed to hear the catch in her voice. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking under the hood,” he murmured, his eyes on her lips.

  Before Libby could marshal any outrage, his face descended and his warm mouth captured hers. She let out a surprised whimper at the surge of pleasure that rose within. His lips were so soft, his approach so gentle. She hadn’t expected that. She would have pegged him for a forceful kisser, a man who took with a sense of entitlement and a fair amount of carelessness. But he cupped her cheek softly and brushed his mouth against hers, teasing them both until it was Libby in the end who clutched him tighter and demanded more.

  With a groan, he gave in, taking the kiss deeper, making it fuller. His hand flexed on her back, drawing her closer to him as they explored each other’s tastes—coffee and cinnamon, man and woman. It all blended in one delicious concoction that was enough to curl Libby’s toes inside her wedge sandals.

  It took far too long for Libby to come to her senses—time that Jake spent running his hands all over her back and kissing her as though she’d invited him to. Checking under the hood. His insulting comment came floating back, giving her the wherewithal to pull out of the kiss with a loud smacking of lips.

  She glared at him, trying for disdain but fearing the panted breaths she emitted might lessen the impact. “So, are all my parts in working order?”

  “I don’t know yet.” His small smile was lopsided and his voice was huskier than usual. The smoky sheen of desire in his eyes made Libby’s breath catch. “But it looks promising.”

  He began to lower his head again and Libby felt herself weaken. Perhaps one more little taste—surely she was allowed that. She was a modern, independent woman, free to kiss any man she chose. It was only a kiss. Intoxicating, thrilling and surprisingly delicious, but still only a kiss. Maybe it wouldn’t do any harm.

  His lips touched hers again, but this time, he wasn’t so placid. He urged her mouth open and swept his tongue inside to explore, a bold entry that shot heat to Libby’s erogenous zones. He cupped her butt and drew her against him. Something hard nudged her stomach, and Libby gasped into Jake’s mouth when she realized what it was. He was turned on. The knowledge of it turned her on—more—until there they both were, turned on and m
aking out in a dressing room, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t wait until they got somewhere more private.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat put a stop to things. Libby wrenched her mouth out from under Jake’s and turned to see the sales woman glaring daggers at the both of them, the dressing room curtain clutched in her taut grip.

  The woman raised one scornful eyebrow. One little facial twitch that had shame flushing through Libby. Oh, good grief, what am I doing? Kissing Jake McCallum. Kissing him. She didn’t even like him or anything he had to say.

  Not that he’d said much while his mouth was otherwise occupied. Perhaps that’s what was so terrific about the kiss. It had stopped him from saying something offensive for five minutes.

  Libby pushed against Jake’s chest, trying to ignore how good those muscles felt beneath her hands as she stepped away from him. His shirt buttons were undone, revealing all that male hotness she’d been pressing herself against. Dear God, look at him. It’s no wonder you responded, Libby. Perfectly understandable.

  Understandable, maybe. Acceptable? Definitely not. Libby could kick herself, especially when she caught a glimpse of Jake’s expression. Cocky didn’t begin to cover it. He’d kissed her and she’d loved it, a reaction he hadn’t missed. If he’d been annoying before, now he was bound to be unbearable.

  She was going to have to put him back in his place. Firmly. Or he’d probably insist she take him for a test drive in bed.

  A shiver coursed through her. Libby ran her gaze involuntarily over Jake’s body again before forcing her eyes to meet those of the sales woman. She knew her face was flaming, but she smiled as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Explanations seemed redundant, anyway.

  Libby lifted the jacket she still held, crushed now from being sandwiched between her body and Jake’s. “We’ll take this one please.”

  Chapter 3

  Anger And Sex

  Men think women are hot when they’re angry. On an innate level, that’s probably why we enjoy needling you so much. Don’t let us get away with it. Give as good as you get. A really healthy argument can be the best kind of foreplay.