A Touch of Confidence

by Jess Dee

  She no longer focused on her inhibitions. Couldn’t even think about them. As the pressure and sensation built, and his tongue stroked over hers, she dug her fingers into his sides, seeking purchase on his hard flesh.

  Claire was going to come. Going to orgasm, atop Mr. Wilson in the very shop he’d leased to someone else.

  With a last reserve of energy, Claire ripped her head away, breaking the kiss that held her captive in his arms. She tried to throw herself off him, twisting over to the side, but he held her tight, even as he stared at her with passion-fogged eyes.

  “Easy, Miss Jones. You lurch over to that side, and you’re likely to crash into a cup of tea.”

  His calm, practical words were at such odds with his dark, sexy gaze, Claire stilled mid-twist. And then had to swallow a moan, as the position pressed her clit firmly against his erection, almost making her see stars.

  “P-please. Let me go.” She’d dismount on the other side.

  The breathless quality to her voice ashamed her. Although which part of her behavior caused the most shame she was unsure. Was it the fact that the last thing she wanted to do was climb off him? She was close, so damn close to coming, that even shuddering might send her over the edge.

  Or was it the fact that she’d fallen on him, like a giant hippopotamus, with no rhythm or grace or even a slight attempt to right herself?

  Or was it the fact that she’d so blatantly and wantonly fallen into his kiss, she’d let go of her inhibitions without even remembering she had any?

  Or maybe, just maybe, she’d horrified herself, plunging head first into a kiss and a grope with a man overwhelmed by stress and worry. Perhaps she was horrified at herself for taking advantage of a man so obviously shaken by a family member’s ill health.

  A combination of all of the above. Without a doubt. And that didn’t even begin to focus on her reasons for being here in the first place. The professional woman seeking to lease a shop from the property manager.

  Still, a part of her—a very big part—wanted to dip back down and kiss him all over again.

  His arms loosened around her, giving her the chance to climb off him, like she wanted. So why did she hesitate?

  As though he sensed she might be in two minds, he rocked his hips one more time. Claire leaped off him with a gasp she could not suppress. She landed on her knees beside him, with all her usual lack of grace and finesse, a heaving mass of crazy-assed female hormones.

  Was there any way she could humiliate herself more with this man?

  Pushing up to a standing position, and knowing her face was stained red—probably permanently—she did her best to apologize, patting down her shirt at the same time.

  “I-I am so sorry. Falling on you like that. I have no idea what happened, other than I’m clumsier than a baby elephant, and probably shouldn’t have offered you my hand in the first place. D-did I hurt you?”

  He propped his lower arms on the floor and rested his weight on them, looking up at her, bemused. “Hurt me?”

  Shit, this was excruciating. “Uh, yeah. You know, when I landed on you.” Yes, he was big. Huge. Still, she was no lightweight. She could have caused him serious harm.

  “Do I look hurt?”

  She scanned his body. He looked positively scrumptious, although his shirt was a crumpled mess and his pants did nothing to hide the glorious erection he’d pressed against her so enticingly. Her gaze kind of got stuck on it and wouldn’t move on.

  “I pulled you over, Miss Jones. You didn’t fall on me.”

  Flushing even more than before, she darted her gaze back to his. He just said that to make her feel better.

  “And for the record? You’re welcome to land on me any time.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shifted to a sitting position, then groaned and immediately shifted again. “But maybe next time, you won’t be in such a hurry to get up?”

  Speechless, embarrassed and more than a little aroused, Claire fumbled for an appropriate response and found none. She just knew she had to get out of there. Get some space, some air and pull herself together. No way could she conduct herself in any way befitting a professional now. If she wasn’t careful, she’d throw caution to the wind and launch herself at the man now seated on the floor.

  She might break his neck in the process, but at least she’d be back in his arms—an idea she found she craved a great deal. Okay, so she practically drooled at the thought of being held by him again. Touched by him. Kissed. “I er, have to go,” she muttered.

  No, she didn’t. She’d set the morning aside to complete this meeting. Neither Maddie nor Julia were expecting her back at Li’l Books and Bits any time soon. But she couldn’t stand here a second longer. Not if she wanted to preserve her last ounce of pride.

  “Go?” he asked.

  “Back to my shop. Do some work. And, er, you should probably go too. Go visit your grandfather. I suspect you need to see him, for your sake as well as his.”

  “What about your lease?”

  She nodded. Good question What about it? “As I said, I’ll come by your offices tomorrow morning. We can sort it all out then. It’ll give you a chance to cancel the agreement with the man who just signed it.”

  Much easier to talk about the lease than the outrageous kiss they’d just shared. Funny how she could obsess about it internally, reliving every second of it while looking at the G.G., yet not allow a single word to cross her lips that may give him the impression she’d given it another thought. She kind of reckoned she’d be giving it endless thought all the way back to the shop and well into lunch. And dinner. And breakfast the next morning.

  He shook his head with a small, mystified smile. “You’re just going to ignore that kiss? Pretend it didn’t happen?”

  She stared at him, speechless.

  “You’re going to pretend I’m not sitting here, on my ass, with a massive hard-on?”

  She bit her lip, not wanting to answer at all. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to pretend the last five minutes didn’t take place. You’re in shock about your grandfather, I’m furious about the lease, and should our lawyers need to get involved in the situation, a kiss and an uh, erection, are not going to hold either of us in good stead.”

  “Ah, so we keep it professional.” He narrowed his eyes. “Ignore the fact that we both almost climaxed, fully clothed on the floor here. Ignore the chemistry that’s telling me to haul you into my arms once again—despite the fact you’re acting as though it doesn’t exist?”

  She wiped her hands on her pants, aware her palms were damp from nerves. Or from arousal. “We should have kept it professional all along. We didn’t. This is the only way I know to rectify the situation. Pretend it didn’t take place.”

  One half of his mouth creased into a frown. The half that showed off his dimple, and again Claire felt the need to explore it—with her tongue. “I guess I should be grateful you’re not denying the chemistry.”

  How could she possibly deny it? Whatever hummed between them wasn’t just chemical, it was highly explosive. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Wilson. At your grandfather’s offices.”

  He contemplated her in silence for a long moment before giving a humorless laugh. “You know where the offices are?”

  “Yes. Your grandfather gave me the address.”

  “Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nodded. “Eleven o’clock.”

  “You should know something, Miss Jones.”

  She raised her brow in question.

  “This isn’t over between us. You might deny what just happened. I can’t.”

  Chapter Three

  Overwhelming relief was Jack’s first experience as he walked into his grandfather’s hospital room.

  The man’s pallor had improved. His cheeks were rosy, and he sat up in bed, resting against three or four pillows. Even the drip attached to Big Jack’s left arm couldn’t detract from his grandson’s relief. He was no doctor, but the change was obvious. The ma
n was better.

  A thousand kilograms lifted from Jack’s shoulders. Seeing his pop like this did more for him than a cup—or even a pot—of tea ever could.

  He couldn’t explain how it all happened, or why, but Claire had eased his worries. Something about her presence had taken away the horror of the previous night, of realizing his grandfather might die. Her calm had soothed his shock.

  And her kiss had blown his mind, but that was another story altogether.

  The second she’d left the shop, however, he’d jumped into his car and headed straight to the hospital, needing to see Big Jack.

  Now, as he stood admiring his grandfather’s color, he couldn’t help but think that it might not be too long before they took the boat out again.

  Pop welcomed him with a smile, and Jack hugged him hello, kissing him on the cheek, aware of the papery texture of his skin. While the old man might be better, he was still old, and more fragile than Jack had realized. Jack had just kind of assumed he’d live forever. Stupid really, but when a boy idolized someone the way Jack had always idolized Big Jack, thoughts of death and mortality just never came up.

  “Your father just left. You missed him by a couple of minutes.”

  “That’s okay. I didn’t come to see him. I came for you. How are you feeling?”

  Big Jack looked down at his chest as though assessing it. “I don’t think I’ll be running any marathons in the near future, but otherwise okay.” His voice was soft and wispy.

  “I brought you some magazines to read.” He laid the pile on the hospital cabinet beside the bed.

  His pop looked disappointed. “No food?”

  “I have no idea what you’re allowed, or if you’re even allowed to eat, so no. No food.”

  Big Jack huffed. “I could use a Big Mac and chips.”

  Jack snorted. “Pop, you’ve just had a heart attack from clogged arteries. Your burger days are over.”

  “Might as well kill me now if I can’t have another Big Mac,” the old man grumbled. “I’m holding out for chips as well.”

  “Tell you what. Get through the surgery okay, and I’ll treat you to a Big Mac meal and a McFlurry afterwards.” Anyone who craved Macca’s had to be feeling better.

  “You have a deal, my boy. Now tell me what’s happening at my office.”

  Jack frowned.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse.”

  “Jacky, come on, you’re a teacher. You guide teenagers every day of your life. How hard can it be to run a one-man property management business? Compared to school, it’s a party.”

  “I get kids, Pop. I understand them. I like them.” All of them—even the princesses, the troublemakers, the geeky nerds and the arrogant jocks.

  He didn’t just like them, he loved them. Loved his work. Came home at the end of every day with a sense of accomplishment, a knowledge that he’d found his life’s purpose.

  Unfortunately, it was the getting home that always knocked the wind out of his sails. Because how could one enjoy one’s life’s purpose when one’s salary didn’t even allow one to own a home? Or a new car, maybe with leather upholstery?

  God help him if he ever settled down and started a family. The expense would be financially crippling.

  Working with his pop, however, and earning decent money could open up his life to all possibilities. And what better opportunity to join his grandfather than right now? But even with this opportunity, he hesitated, hating the thought of leaving a job that made him happy.

  “Your business? I swear, I can’t fathom it. I’ll take History and English lessons over business any day. Anthony is way better suited to run your business while you’re away.”

  “Anthony is in Perth. He can’t run my business.”

  Jack wished his brother weren’t away. Anthony would’ve understood how worried Jack had been about Big Jack, and although they’d spoken last night, more than once, a phone just wasn’t an adequate means of communication at a time like this. Anthony would also have been able to run the business effectively. He’d studied Business Management.

  “I stuffed up, Pop.”

  “What did you do?

  “I rented out the property on New South Head Road.”

  “How’s that a mistake? I asked you to rent it out. Got a good feel about those Jones girls. Thought they’d be good tenants. Who signed the lease? Claire or Maddie?”

  Jack cringed. “Neither.”

  “Neither?”

  “Greg Parker did.”

  Big Jack stared at him. “Parker?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Now why on earth would Parker sign on that shop? I never showed it to him.”

  “Yeah, um, I did. This morning.”

  “Why?” The old man looked baffled.

  “Because you told me to rent out the shop today. I think your words were, ‘Get the lease signed, my boy. That property must be rented out tomorrow.’”

  “Yes. So?”

  “So you never mentioned who should sign the lease. I had no idea who you had in mind. When I searched your desk, the only name I found was Parker’s. His number was there, alongside a handwritten note to ‘show him the shop ASAP, with a view to leasing’.”

  “Yes. That was for a property in Surry Hills, not Rose Bay.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Did you look in my diary?”

  “I couldn’t find your diary.”

  “On my computer. Or my phone.”

  Damn it. He hadn’t thought to look there. Hadn’t imagined his pop was that technologically savvy.

  “Do me a favor?”

  Jack nodded. “Anything.”

  “Next time you visit, bring my iPad along. I’ll go through everything with you.”

  “You have an iPad?”

  “Of course I have an iPad. It’s in the third drawer of my desk. How can anyone work without one these days?”

  Jack hid a grin. He didn’t know a single other person over the age of sixty with an iPad. Big Jack was a remarkable man indeed. “So what do I do about the shop now? What do I say to Miss Jones?”

  “Miss Jones?”

  “Claire.” Just saying her name sent a sharp longing through his gut for another taste of her sweet mouth. No, things were definitely not over between them. Not by a long shot. “She came past the shop while I was there with Parker.”

  “To sign the lease.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Ah, Little Jacky, you messed that one up.”

  “Yeah, I know. But thanks for reinforcing it. How do I fix it?”

  Big Jack shook his head. “Parker signed?”

  “He did.”

  “Then you’re in trouble. He’s a good client, a steadfast one. He’s not going to give up the shop now.”

  That pretty much mirrored what Parker had told him over the phone on the way to the hospital. “I thought I might show Miss Jones another of your properties.”

  “Which one?”

  “I have no idea. Which one would you recommend?”

  “The New South Head shop is the only one I have in Rose Bay. The next closest property is office space in Bondi Junction.”

  Jack pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumbs and swore under his breath. This was so not going the way he’d hoped. Parker had refused to break the contract. He may not have known about the shop in the first place, but once he’d seen it, he’d refused to let it go.

  Miss Jones was going to be hopping mad.

  While Jack regretted screwing her around—no matter that he’d done it inadvertently—he kind of looked forward to seeing her hopping mad. The striking Amazonian warrior would have a few choice threats to throw his way. And Jack looked forward to hearing each and every one of them.

  “Are you kidding me?” Claire stared at the man before her, dumbfounded. “You want me to do what?” She hoped to God he could not see any sign of her erratic heart, which slammed into her chest as she struggled to keep her wits and her hormones about her
.

  “Come for a drive with me. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  She took a deep breath, drew herself up to her tallest height and spoke very patiently. “Mr. Wilson, I am here to sort out the lease to the shop in New South Head Road. I’m not interested in gallivanting around Sydney with you.”

  Funny her voice could come out so patient, because her lungs weren’t working well and her palms had grown clammy. Reliving Jack’s kiss over and over had not prepared her for the reality of standing in front of the G.G. again. His physical presence hit her like a blow to the solar plexus, making breathing almost impossible.

  He was even more striking than she remembered. Large, solid and so jam-packed full of muscle she suspected he’d be about as easy to move as a house.

  Her crazy-ass female hormones were doing a crazy-ass happy dance at the sight of him, and her stomach dipped madly up and down. Much as she tried to convince herself it was just a case of worry and anxiety that he may not have sorted the details out with the other tenant, she couldn’t quite believe it.

  Her physical reaction to him had nothing to do with the shop and everything to do with the man. Even her pussy clenched, reminding her how close she’d come to orgasming on top of him yesterday.

  “Look, I buggered things up yesterday, signing over a lease for a property that had already been promised to you, and I apologize for that. How about we start again, Miss Jones? From the beginning. Let’s do it right this time.”

  She didn’t need to start again. She just needed to know he’d made things right with the lease.

  He stuck out his hand. “Hello. I’m Jack Wilson, grandson of Big Jack Wilson. While he’s in hospital I’ll be looking after his business. And you are?”

  Really? They were really doing this? Standing on the footpath outside Wilson Property Management offices, where Mr. Wilson had headed her off before she could even enter the building.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Big Jack?”

  Jack grinned. “My childhood name for my pop. Now, c’mon,” he coaxed. “Humor me. I screwed up. I only want to make things right. In whatever way I can.”