by Sahara Kelly
“But…I don’t know you…” Every instinct screamed at her to not let a stranger into her apartment. Absolutely not. No matter how much she wanted to, or the hundred and one things she’d like to do when she got him there. Most of which involved him naked.
He tilted his head. “You’re right. You don’t. I can assure you I’m not an axe murderer, or a serial killer.” He chuckled. “I’m not married and I’ve never been married. Hell, I’m not even dating anyone at the moment.”
“You’re not?” She blinked.
“Nope. Got tired of the whole thing. The bars, the parties…the endless stream of…well…you know.”
“Er…yes.” Her dating experiences recently had been limited to the one associate professor she’d met at a faculty tea. Not quite the same thing at all.
“So what do you say? I don’t know you either…but something tells me you’re not an axe murderer, and I’m willing to take a gamble. How about you?” He waited.
She looked at his hand. It was strong, the nails clean and short. The hand of a man who took care of himself, and possibly others.
She looked back into his eyes. They were still smiling at her. They were…honest.
“No! No!” screamed her common sense.
“Okay.” Daphne took his hand.
Chapter Four
Jack’s heart rate accelerated to dangerous speeds as Daphne put her hand in his. Fucking hell. What was that all about?
Where was the Mr. Smooth who’d seduced a bevy of women with just a raised eyebrow and never ever gotten a shock like this? He tightened his fingers around hers and led her to the counter, stumbling a little over his own damned feet.
Mr. Smooth had obviously gone on vacation, and left Mr. Stupid Idiot in his place.
Lou glanced down from his position behind the raised counter. “All done, Jack?”
“Yep. Gonna call it a night. Ms. Littlewood here wants to rent a player along with this DVD. What’ve we got?”
The man frowned a little. “Damn, dude. With all the folks in here tonight, we’re out. We only had two working and they’ve both gone. To be honest, they weren’t in really good shape anyway. But our regulars were in early…grabbed them up. I’m sorry.”
Jack cursed luridly beneath his breath as he heard Daphne sigh behind him.
“Look, Jack, it’s no big deal, really…maybe I can just find one that’s on video or something…” She sounded as disappointed as he felt.
Shit. He wanted her to see that one. Love Lights. It was his, one of his best, and he was proud of it. And he wanted to see it again with Daphne beside him. But of course she didn’t know that.
“We’ll figure something out,” he said. I’ll figure something out. Or rupture my brain trying.
“Ring it up, Lou. We’ll find a solution.”
Passing his card over the counter, Jack ignored Daphne’s muttered protests. “Thanks. Have a good one.”
Lou’s eyes twinkled. “You too, Jack.”
Damn. That man saw too much.
Jack couldn’t wait to get Daphne out of the video store and into the fresh air. He wanted to breathe. To not be nervous some bimbo would come up and call him “Big John” in front of this delightful woman. And spoil…what?
The pleasure of just being with someone he found attractive and who had no clue who he was? Perhaps that was what it was all about. Just the sheer novelty of the situation.
It wouldn’t have anything to do with her cute way of pushing her glasses up on her nose, or the charmingly rumpled appearance that made him want to rumple her some more. Nah. Couldn’t be any of that.
No matter what it was, he heaved a great sigh of relief as the glass doors swung shut behind them and they were finally outside. And pretty much alone in the darkness.
Daphne cleared her throat. “Okay. Thanks to you I have a DVD of a movie I’ve never heard of, and no way to watch it.” She grinned wryly. “What now, Mr. Wizard?”
“Hmm.” Jack’s mind worked furiously. He knew exactly what he wanted. All he had to do was get Daphne to agree to it. How to get a “nice” girl to come up to his place and see his…well, the word “etchings” certainly didn’t apply.
Daphne shivered as a cold breeze wafted down the silent street.
Without thinking much about it, Jack slipped his arm around her shoulders and turned her towards the small parking lot. “You’re cold. Look. I have a suggestion. And you have every right to shoot me down in flames. I probably would if I were you.”
Daphne blinked at him. “Really?”
“Really.”
She smiled. “You have the oddest way of putting things…”
“I do?” He shrugged. “Well here’s the thing. My apartment isn’t too far from here. I have a pretty nice DVD system set up. I’d be very happy to let you use it. For research purposes only, of course.”
Daphne paused. “Oh.”
Jack ignored the little hesitancy in her step, and urged her on. “I know. A strange man invites you to his apartment. You’ve known him for all of an hour. Every instinct you have is screaming at you to run a mile in the other direction, right?”
She smothered a giggle. “Right.”
“And you can probably hear your mother’s voice very loudly saying ‘Daphne, never go home with strangers’.”
“Right again. Although my mother…well, she was a child of the sixties. They thought differently. She gave me the basics, but…”
They stopped in front of Jack’s car, and Daphne’s jaw dropped. “This is your car?”
No. It wasn’t his car. It was his baby. His precious. His symbol of all that he’d achieved. An extension of his penis, if psychologists were to be believed, but what the fuck did they know? They obviously didn’t drive Corvettes.
“It’s a…a Corvette.”
“I know.” He couldn’t help it. He smirked.
She turned accusing eyes on him. “You must do very nicely indeed at that video store.”
He hesitated. “Daphne, I…” But the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t tell her who he really was. He had a nasty feeling he’d destroy that little something that was growing between them. He couldn’t stand to see her expression change from amazement to distaste or worse…greed. “I have a good financial advisor. I don’t waste my money.”
That, in the strictest sense, was true. He wanted for nothing, but kept his wants within bounds. Except for Big Red. She was his major extravagance, and he’d have slashed everything else to the bone to keep her fed, tuned and garaged.
“Well, I’m impressed. And I don’t even like cars very much.” She trailed a hand over the shining hood.
“You see? I’m a worthwhile person, honest. I promise to behave myself…” Liar. “I’m simply extending the hand of hospitality here. Ex-grad student to grad student.”
She snorted. “Yes. Quite. Like ex-grad students drive red Corvettes.”
“We do if we’re smart. If we put our education to good use. It’s that piece of paper, Daphne. That little certificate that says we’re qualified in our fields. And that’s what I’d like to help you with. If you’ll let me?”
She bit her lip. “Gee, Jack…I don’t know…”
Every instinct was shouting at him to just throw her into the low-slung sports car and drive her off into the night. But he knew it had to be her choice. “What can I say? I’m basically an okay guy? I like dogs? I help old ladies across the street? I have no wants or warrants out for my arrest? Um…you want my mother’s phone number?”
Daphne laughed. “Call me ten kinds of fool, but for some unknown reason, I believe you, Jack. I must be mad, but…I believe you.”
She opened the car door and jumped as the alarm shrieked at her.
Quickly, Jack killed it. “Shit. Sorry.”
Hand to her breasts, she gaped at him. “Well, heck. That convinced me. If you care enough to secure your car like that, you’re probably a secure-minded guy, Jack Foster. If you’d be kind enough to let me use your DVD
equipment, then thanks. I appreciate it.” She glanced up at him. “You won’t mind if I call a friend and tell her where I am, will you?”
He grinned. “Not at all. A very wise idea.” He helped her into the car. “You could voice dial her…” He pointed at a small cellular unit neatly mounted into the high-tech dashboard. “But you would probably prefer the straightforward way…” He detached the phone and handed it to her. “Here you go.”
Daphne blinked. “Oh my.”
*~~*~~*
If the car had dazzled her, with its assortment of state-of-the-art gizmos, then Jack’s apartment was even more of a shock.
Dr. Jane’s voice on the phone had sounded amused when Daphne had called her and told her where she was going and what she was doing.
“Jack Foster? Hmm. That name rings a bell somewhere.” The older woman had thought for a moment. “Never mind. It’ll come to me. Smart of you to check in, Daphne. And good luck. I’ll be interested to hear the results of your…research.”
She’d chuckled and hung up, leaving Daphne with a raised eyebrow, staring at the silent phone.
Both eyebrows had nearly hit her hairline when she’d stepped into Jack’s place.
“Jack.” The word came out as a gasp. She walked into something that could have figured as “Daphne’s dream home” in the current issue of House Beautiful magazine.
The apartment building was low-key from the outside, and Jack had driven through the weathered pillars and into a space in the garage beneath. The elevator ride had been smooth and quiet, and it had only been moments before Daphne stood in the foyer of…paradise.
Gleaming wood floors radiated warmth as Jack turned on a few lights, and the deep red Oriental rug invited her toes to wiggle in it. He led her into the living room and once again her jaw dropped.
The walls were paneled, rich and elegant pine aged to a deep glow, and a large fireplace nestled in one corner. A ruby colored sofa filled a good portion of the space, with a low coffee table and a couple of matching ottomans nearby. There were bookshelves and wall units, and a huge flat screen television hung in the center of the space opposite the sofa like a technological Old Master.
“Oh. Wow.”
Jack turned, his face a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “Do you like it?”
“Like it?” Wide eyed, Daphne turned slowly, trying to take it all in. “It’s…it’s…incredible. Beautiful.”
“Thank you. I wanted to feel at home here. So I kind of…well, I did it the way I thought it ought to be.”
“You did very well…” She walked slowly across the soft rug and touched her fingers gently to a solitary silk flower in a small vase. “You did it all yourself?”
Jack blinked. “Yes I did. Are you surprised?”
“I…no…I don’t know. I don’t know you or your tastes, of course, but this is just…magnificent.” She sighed. “I love all the wood. So warm and welcoming.”
Jack bent and fiddled with something next to the fireplace and a flame leaped inside, adding a glow to the corner of the room. He caught her watching him and chuckled. “I know. Fake. But there were fire codes to take into consideration.”
She smiled. “It’s the effect that counts, isn’t it?” She continued her exploration of the room, pausing before a large bookshelf. She peered closer. What she’d assumed were paperbacks were actually DVDs - and there was a huge number of them.
“My word. You have quite a collection here, don’t you?”
Jack cleared his throat. “It’s…I suppose you could call it a hobby of mine.”
She glanced through the titles. “Wow. Citizen Kane. Gaslight. Casablanca and the Maltese Falcon…” Daphne smiled. “You have good taste in movies.”
She moved to another shelf. “Um. Debbie Does Dallas. Deep Throat.” Her voice trailed off.
“All classics. There’s something to be learned from every successful movie, regardless of the genre, you know.” Jack led her to the sofa and took her bag and jacket. “Why don’t I make us some coffee and then we’ll get down to it?”
Daphne blushed. She’d love nothing more than to get down to it. Preferably on that nice soft rug. With Jack. “No more coffee for me, really. Thanks.”
“No? Oh…I know. Gimme a second here…” He disappeared through a doorway only to reappear a few minutes later bearing two steaming mugs. “Try this. Guaranteed to chase away the chill of an autumn evening.”
He did have a way with words. Daphne sniffed her drink, hiding her face so he couldn’t see that the chills she had weren’t in any way connected to the temperature outside. They were all to do with the man inside.
A rich, spicy fragrance met her nostrils and she tentatively sipped. “Oooh. That’s delicious.”
“Mulled wine. I made some the other day. It should be freshly brewed, of course, but I figured you’d forgive me for nuking it in the microwave. At least it’s hot.”
So are you.
She said nothing. What was there to say? I’d like you to claim me and make me a woman now, please. The hackneyed phrase from some purple romance novel flashed through her mind, and she focused on her mug. No claiming. No woman-making. She was here for research purposes only.
Jack reached for the DVD. “I guess it’s time, huh?” He crossed to the bookshelf beneath the television and pulled out what looked like a huge cell phone.
Good lord. Men and their gadgets.
He returned with that one essential testosterone builder. It was a remote control unit. This one looked capable of launching half of NASA’s space program. “Ready?”
No.
“Yes.”
*~~*~~*
Jack surreptitiously dimmed the lights in the room with a button on his master remote control unit, leaving the two of them in semi-darkness. The firelight flickered comfortingly in one corner, and the large screen on the wall sent shafts of brightness across Daphne’s face.
The FBI warning flashed up on the screen, and he saw her take in a deep breath. She was preparing herself.
He grinned and lay back against the sofa, letting one arm rest along the back. He hadn’t sat close to her…much too obvious, but he’d made sure he was on the same piece of furniture.
Seducing Daphne was going to be a case of slow and easy steps.
Exactly when his interest in her had become a need to seduce her, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps it had been the look of wonder in her eyes as she’d seen his apartment for the first time.
Or maybe her fascination with his car. Or maybe even the little note of excitement in her voice as she’d told her friend on the phone where she was going and what she was doing.
Perhaps it was all of the above. Perhaps it was none of the above.
All Jack knew was that he wanted this woman. For reasons unclear, unspecified and pretty much unknown. He just wanted her.
He wanted to know what she tasted like, how she’d feel beneath him, on top of him, around him and beside him.
He wanted to hear her pant as he teased her clit, and cry out as he shoved his cock deep into her. He wondered if she was a screamer or a moaner. He hoped it was both. Or none…or either. He realized it didn’t matter.
The opening music swelled and Daphne jumped a little.
He smiled. “Surround sound. Home theater system.” He nodded at the wall behind them. “Built in speakers.”
“Of course.” Daphne shook her head and smiled weakly. “Dolby digital and all that THP stuff, right?”
“You’re thinking of THX. Yep. If you’re going to have a system like this, it’s a sin to not go the distance.”
“Of course…” Her voice trailed off as the opening credits started to roll.
Jack watched her. He knew what she was seeing. Hell, he’d damn near created it single handedly.
The camera was slowly panning over a naked woman’s body. Text announcing the film’s title, stars and production staff, was rippling along the contours of the flesh, stopping and curling around parts considered too risqu
é for the audience targeted by this movie.
Too risqué at the beginning, anyway.
His own pseudonym would appear curving around the underside of her breast. “Produced and Directed by Big John Johnson.” The score was richly sensual, and evocative of tropical beaches and the resort in which the film was set.
Sure, it was a thinly-veiled rip-off of some of the early James Bond movie credit techniques, although Jack preferred the word “hommage”. Who cared? It worked. He used it frequently now, and it was almost a trademark.
Daphne swallowed and reached for her pad of paper and pen. She clasped it tightly on her lap as she crossed her legs.
Jack moved, tugging a coffee table closer to her and incidentally sliding his body a little nearer hers at the same time. “Here…you can put your notes and stuff on this.”
She muttered her thanks as the movie began, not taking her eyes from the screen.
Jack knew it by heart.
Scene 1. An empty beach. Sunset. A woman walking alone.
Daphne leaned back a little, relaxing as she watched the lush footage. He knew it was lush - it had taken three days of frustration with rainstorms before the light had been just right and Merrill had been able to take that walk. She’d had the moves down perfectly, infusing the swing of her thong-clad ass with just the right amount of sexuality and sensuality.
It had been one shoot that had gone very smoothly, and taught Jack a lot about the value of hiring experienced actors and actresses as opposed to porn stars.
Scene 2. The man surfing in on the last of the day’s waves. Crashing onto the shore.
Jack watched Daphne as she took in Bart’s body. He was one good looking guy, filled out his Speedo to perfection, and the water droplets glistened on his tawny skin as he stumbled from the waves to collapse in front of Merrill.
He’d never even winced, even though it had been revealed later that the sand had scraped a nasty welt on one knee.
God bless the pros.
Scene 3. Merrill hurries to the body lying on the shore. She touches him and his eyes open. His hand reaches up slowly and cradles her head.
