Jack Harley could hardly be hard-pressed for work and he was a businessman of sorts. A week or so of steady money could make her look good to any man.
“Thinking about our arrangement?” he asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“That cool business expression chased away the sex kitten I was starting to appreciate.” Leaning closer, he asked, “Reconsidering your request?”
“Not at all,” she replied, squashing the flutter of excitement that followed his comment. There had to be a way to think through the situation, stay in control. “My needs haven’t changed.”
He shrugged, the image of nonchalance. “You’re not sure if I’m the man to meet them. Is that right?”
Wishing she were glad to have the negotiations out front and the emotions set aside, she said, “You could say that.”
“What can I do to prove I’m the man for the job?”
Not be you. Be someone I could want.
But she had to consider the facts. Her body responded to his so readily that his single glance was as potent as his touch. He’d agreed to play the part of different men. The situation met all of her requirements except one—control, or more accurately, her loss of it. Overcoming that issue seemed impossible.
“Do you play pool?” he asked, gesturing toward the back.
She blinked in surprise. What happened? “Sort of, not much, I don’t know…”
“Come on. It’ll be fun.”
Jack shot to his feet, picked up their beer bottles with one hand and hauled her up with the other before shouldering his way to the back. Elizabeth tripped over a loose board and dodged between two chairs to catch up. She stumbled along, the stare of that blond cowboy heating her back.
No, that had to be her imagination. A hot-blooded man like him interested in Elizabeth Sewell, steady accountant and all-around unexciting person?
In spite of herself, she glanced over her shoulder and spotted him, watching her and still looking like a beer ad targeting man-hungry women. When he offered her a slanted, knowing grin, she whipped back. Should she be insulted, embarrassed, or ashamed of herself? With no similar experience to go on, she came up blank.
The cinder block wall enclosing the back room muffled the music from the front. Men loitered by high tables and bent over pool tables. One woman leaned on a cue, her bright red hair glowing above her purple halter top.
Jack paused at an open table, with the light casting shadows across his face and the frayed waist band of his jeans hanging low, he looked every bit as bad as she could want him to be. His shirt pulled tight as he bent to slip quarters into the slot. The clamor of balls rolling out from underneath broke though the hum of the room. His capable hands blurred as he set the balls on the table.
He yanked a couple cues off the wall and offered one to her. “Ready?”
More than ready. Just not for pool.
—
Jack was usually an excellent judge of character but that stare down with the cocksure cowboy made him realize he’d better pick up the pace, or he’d be left behind in a sweet-smelling trail of perfume. As she had from the first minute he’d touched her, Elizabeth was proving many of the things he believed about himself untrue. For once he didn’t mind being wrong.
He wasn’t a man to disappoint others—and women, never—so he’d gladly rework his plan for the evening. Even though she was still on the edge, she wanted to be pulled off. They both knew he was the man to do it.
“You’ve played pool before? Eight ball okay?” he asked, intentionally distracting her from that damn careful thinking she’d slipped into a moment ago.
“Not in a long time.” She shrugged accepting the cue he offered. “We had a table in our basement when I was a kid. Eight ball’s fine.”
He smiled at the image of a teenage Elizabeth frowning with concentration as she calculated the best angle for a shot. Forgetting that they were not out as a real couple, he asked, “Where’d you grow up?”
She lifted her shoulder again, the motion causing the tips of her breasts to slide against her red sweater. “Not too far from here.”
Wishing the cold balls in his hands were her soft, warm breasts, he set them into the rack in pairs. When they were ready, he gestured for her to break. “In Houston?”
“Near Rice University.” She stepped around the table and bent low, her sweet ass poking up, reminding him of those decisions he was going to have to make as soon as he got her clothes off. Slow and sweet or fast and hard?
But if he did her from behind the first time, he wouldn’t be able to kiss that sexy mouth or feel her hot breath on his skin.
“What about you?”
“Wh-what about me?” he stammered, blinking to cover his naughty musings.
If she knew what had him so distracted, she didn’t let on. “Where did you grow up?”
Noticing a pang of dissatisfaction that only the basics mattered, he answered simply, “Cincinnati, Ohio.”
She laughed, the light playful sound completely catching him off guard. He folded his arms and regarded her with mock hostility. “Why is that funny?”
“You don’t look like someone from Ohio.”
“Really?” He slipped the cue into the crook of his elbow. “What does a man from Ohio look like?”
She grinned, stalled by taking a sip of beer, then answered. “You know, plaid pants, white shoes, a yellow golf shirt. That sort of thing.”
“How do you know I don’t have that exact outfit in my laundry basket? In fact, I might’ve been wearing it yesterday.”
Her slim shoulders shook as she laughed harder, making her breasts bounce. The delicate sound worked across him like a Texas summer wind, making him hotter with each blow. And that body—it could make him beg for mercy too.
She looked him over, innocently but the effect on him was potent. That lingering erection started to come back but this time he wasn’t going to be satisfied with taking care of it himself.
“I don’t think so,” she concluded, stepping back and looking at the table.
Trying to distract his traitorous cock until he was ready for it, he chuckled. “Maybe only the shirt and pants, not the white shoes.”
Shaking her head, she pressed her lips together.
He raised his eyebrows. “Just the pants?”
Again she shook her head.
“Okay. You caught me.” He threw his hands into the air. “I left all my plaids and pastels on the other side of the Mississippi where they belong.”
The sweet smile that swept across her face made a lump lodge in his throat. The combination of pretty meets sexy took his breath away. Almost. He wasn’t nineteen anymore.
What it did do was refocus his attention on the task at hand. Proving to Elizabeth that they had something hot between them and that this one night wouldn’t be enough to cool the flame.
—
Elizabeth pushed away from the wall she’d been leaning on and scrambled to her feet. Her laughter stalled but her pulse picked up. There was a message behind his gaze, one for her alone.
Did he go out of his way to make every woman he escorted feel wanted? Or could his interest in her be genuine?
“So you’ll excuse me just a minute?”
Only after Jack had tapped her arm and headed back toward the other room, did Elizabeth realize she’d been staring again, this time at him. More than a bit embarrassed but glad to have a minute to herself, Elizabeth picked up her beer and lingered next to the wall.
A slice of Jack’s shoulder shoved through the crowd as he spoke with one of the bartenders. Shadows slashed across his cheek, making his face stunning and dangerous. The other man shared an odd resemblance to Jack but that had to be the darkness playing tricks on her. She’d known Jack less than a day and already she was comparing other men to him, as though he was the ultimate measure of what a man should be.
It didn’t make sense. Never in her daydreams had she thought she’d be attracted to the sort of man who worked as an esc
ort. That was one of the reasons using the service seemed like a good idea.
A safe idea.
Something about Jack didn’t match with what she would’ve expected from a man who got paid to take women out. Although they hadn’t had any serious talks, he seemed intelligent and thoughtful. Curious and diligent. Not personality traits she would have expected in an escort but ones she desired in a potential partner.
Elizabeth glanced down at the tattered label on her bottle only to look back and find Jack scant inches away. He braced his hands on the wall and leaned so close that the lingering smell of leather drifted under her nose.
“Anybody bother you?” He pushed his arms upward and his muscles flexed. “You didn’t cause any more trouble did you?”
Looming over her, he lowered his voice, “I think you’d like nothing better than to have every guy in this bar fighting over you.”
Although his words were a challenge, his gaze was light and she smiled at his teasing. “Do I strike you as that kind of girl?”
As he wrapped a strand of her hair around his fingers, his eyebrows pulling together. “I don’t think you know what kind of girl you are.” He let go of her hair and dropped his hand. “That’s what makes me so wary.”
When she remained silent, he slipped one finger through her belt loop and yanked her to him. “I want you to keep me around long enough so that when you figure it out, I’ll get the chance to show you what kind of man I am.”
He dropped his head to cover her mouth lightly, instantly sending Elizabeth to that place where uncertainty ruled and plans were forgotten. She’d never kissed a man tasting of beer and smelling like smoke and leather. Jack Harley was raw sex appeal in blue jeans and she wanted more of him.
But he drew back, so she reached for him with both hands. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she arched up and pressed into him until her peaked nipples brushed against his warm, solid chest.
She stared at his mouth, silently begging him to kiss her again.
He pressed into her. “See something you want?”
Chapter Four
She didn’t want something, she wanted everything.
He thrust his hips against her and slid his thigh between her legs. The muscles of his legs were flexed and hard. “Want something from me?”
Thick, heady need spread from Elizabeth’s stomach, flooding her whole body with want. Heat radiated from him electrifying her senses, making each nerve ending pulse.
“Are you the kind of girl who takes what she wants? Or do you have to be ladylike and wait for me to kiss you first?”
Even though her body was already flush with his, she pressed her hips into him. His hardness made her blood thicken. “I guess we’re going to find out, aren’t we?”
“Hurry up about it.”
The impatience in his voice matched the edginess pulsing thorough her. Each time her heart pounded, the pressure built, as though kissing Jack Harley was the only thing that mattered in her entire life.
Just before she reached him, a boisterous burst of laughter broke. Elizabeth dropped her arms, stepped back, glancing around the room.
Nobody was paying attention to them but they weren’t in private where it would’ve been almost acceptable for her to throw herself at a man. The steady thumping of her heart turned to the patter of panic. Where had her well-guarded control gone?
Elizabeth let out a sigh.
The deep breath did nothing to chase away the tension curling through her. That remained intact and it would take more than a gulp of air to shake it.
She’d never made out with a guy in public and well, what would her mother say?
Her mother?
Elizabeth groaned. If she was going to uncover her true nature, to find the kind of woman she was deep inside, she’d have to let go. Among other things, that definitely meant forgetting about her mother.
If Jack knew why she’d broken away, he didn’t say anything about it. He grabbed the pool cues, handed one to her, moved to the other end of the table.
“Eight ball, right?” he asked as he rubbed some chalk on the blue tip of the cue.
“Hmmm? Oh yeah.”
“Guess it’s my shot,” he said coolly, as though that, whatever it was, had never happened.
“Yep.”
—
Jack eyed the balls and bent low, not an easy thing to do with his jeans getting more constricting by the second. Gripping the cue lightly, he spread his legs further apart and lined it up. Thrusting forward, he sent the balls scattering across the table.
Not a single one landed in a pocket. He nearly rolled his eyes. It was a good thing his cousin Denton hadn’t seen that break, because if he had, Jack would be trying to live it down for years.
Elizabeth edged around the table. A couple of times she paused to consider a shot but each time she moved on.
He wanted to push her further. Better still, he wanted to force her to make the first move. It would prove to her that they needed more than this one date.
“Your shot,” he said, tipping his head toward the table.
She stared at the floor and bounced the cue off her leg. “Yeah, I know. It’s been a while since I did this.”
“Want some help?”
She glanced from him to the table and then back again. After a sigh, she said, “I guess so.”
Glad to have a reason to touch her again, he grabbed her waist and drew her to him. Her hip slammed into his thigh and a clean swell of excitement swamped him.
He kept his grip firm as he leaned close to ask, “Do you want to try for a stripe or a solid?”
She scanned the table. “What do you think?”
He spotted the simplest shot. A solid red sat a few inches outside the left corner pocket. The cue ball was close enough to make the shot easy but not so close that she’d have to worry about scratching.
A grin pulled at his mouth as he pushed Elizabeth forward by pressing against her from behind. Her bottom fit snugly between his thighs.
He lowered her back with one hand and pushed her closer to the table with the other. When her legs were forced apart by the corner, she stiffened. He pushed until the juncture of her thighs pressed into the corner. “Bend down so you can see the lie of the ball.”
He molded against her, so when she bent over, her sweet hips nestled into him. He leaned lower, knowing that the pressure would push her more firmly against the edge of the table.
“Anything good?” he said against her neck.
She squirmed.
He shifted. “Is your angle right?”
After her head bobbed up and down, he reached around her to hold the cue. The heat of her body enveloped him and he breathed deeply, letting her delicate scent flood his system.
With a deliberately slow motion, he guided the cue back, then gently tapped the cue ball. The red ball rolled right into the pocket, leaving the white ball three inches to the left.
Even after she murmured thanks, he remained close enough to savor each contour of her backside. He held her against the corner of the table. “Ready for more?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. A satisfying pink flush stained her cheeks. “More?”
He chuckled at the strain in her voice. “You get to take another shot.”
A light smile lifted her mouth, breathless she said, “Oh yeah. Of course.”
With great effort, he stepped aside, his oversensitive body objecting. “Want help with that one too?”
Her gaze dropped to his boots, then rose gradually as she studied every inch of him, spotting the obvious bulge in his jeans. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“What wouldn’t be a good idea? This,” he patted the top of the table, “or this?” he glanced pointedly down at his crotch.
A nervous, little laugh made her shoulders bounce. “Let’s just finish the game, okay?”
He grabbed his cue. “If you insist.”
She smirked, moving around the table to pick her next shot.
“Can I get you all another round?”
Jack turned to spot his cousin Denton, who he’d been talking to at the bar. He cast him a warning look, then asked Elizabeth, “Another beer for you?”
She glanced up, nodding.
Jack stepped closer to Denton. “Two more, thanks.”
Even though he responded with, “Right away,” he stayed put, admiring Elizabeth as she studied the play options.
Jack shifted over and dropped his voice. “Remember what I told you.”
His cousin grinned. “I couldn’t forget that little bedtime story if I tried.”
“Just be sure you remember to keep your mouth shut as well.”
Denton pointed at Jack. “As long as you stick to your end of the deal, we won’t have any problems.”
Jack nodded. “I will. You know if I say I’ll do something, I’ll do it.”
“You should be thanking me, Mr. Dependable. That charity thing will be packed with rich Texans who need the representation of a good attorney.”
“You know I’m not doing that kind of stuff anymore.”
“Yeah, I know, I know. You left that high-pressure, cutthroat life behind in Dallas. You want to do things.” Denton flashed Jack one of those annoying, mischievous smiles he remembered from their childhood. “Meaningful things like pretending to be the gigolo of a cool businesswoman who needs to find herself.”
Put that way, his actions did sound pretty shallow. Jack frowned. “I’m going to tell her the truth.”
Denton nodded and fixed Jack with a knowing look. “Yeah, sure, is that before or after you sweet talk her into your bed?”
“How do you know she isn’t going to sweet talk me into her bed?”
The other man laughed as he turned toward Elizabeth, who was watching a green ball roll into a side pocket. When she cast Jack a satisfied smile, Denton whispered as he walked away, “You can dream.”
—
The bartender stepped away from Jack, dodging between a trio of couples as he headed back to the other room. Once she lost sight of him, Elizabeth turned to Jack. “Friend of yours?”
Satisfaction Guaranteed Page 4
