by Aimee Carson
“Or ones who live in their parents’ garage,” Steve added.
Amused, Cutter turned toward Steve. “I haven’t heard about him.”
Jessica’s tone was firm. “And you’re not going to either.”
“He was a doozy,” Steve said with a chuckle, which died when Jessica lobbed him a look.
Pink coloring her cheeks, Jessica sipped her wine and then rested the glass on her knee. But she kept her chin high, as if refusing to let her past forays into dating hell get her down. Cutter wondered how she sustained the energy for the constant optimism.
“I still don’t understand your problem with the doctor,” she said.
Her question had him shifting in his seat to face her as another unwanted memory stirred. He hadn’t thought of his dad in years. But lately, long-buried, vague impressions were emerging with a frequency that was disturbing, leaving far-reaching ripples when they surfaced. Even before his old man had left and never looked back, he’d always been changing employers. And every time he’d told Cutter about his new job opportunity, his dad had seemed excited. But none of them had held his attention for long.
And his attention span for his son had lasted all of seven years. Nine if you included the phone calls Cutter received on his eighth and ninth birthdays.
After that, there was only silence.
Trying to ease the tightness in his chest, Cutter threw his arm along the back of the couch, but the twinge of pain refused to ease. “The doctor has been employed by three different agencies and worked in four different countries in less than two years,” Cutter said to Jessica. “My take is he’s too easily distracted by the shiny objects.”
She tipped her head, clearly not following. “Shiny objects?”
Who knew if Jessica’s coveted doctor filled the same bill as his father? Their actions—at least on paper—were similar. “No matter where he is,” Cutter lifted a brow meaningfully, “or who he’s with, the lure of possibility is more interesting than the reality in front of him.”
He studied the very beautiful, very real woman sitting by his side.
Jessica lowered her brow doubtfully. “The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence?”
“Greener grass. Shiny objects.” Cutter hiked a shoulder dismissively. “It all means the same thing.”
She lifted her glass and then paused, gaze locked on his, the dark melted-chocolate eyes holding him captive over her wine. She didn’t look convinced. Maybe she didn’t want to be convinced. “You can’t possibly know the reasons behind the doctor’s actions.”
“True.” Cutter leaned forward, bringing his head a little closer to hers. “But Sunshine,” he said, pleased as the pulse in her neck began to bound faster. “You’re gonna have to let him through that grueling prescreening process of yours and actually meet the guy to find out.”
Jessica’s eyes smoldered, but Cutter wasn’t sure if she was irritated by his mocking reference to her dating rules...or disturbed by his proximity. He had a feeling it was both. The moment grew longer, the air popping with electricity, until Steve cleared his throat. Cutter turned to face him, realizing he’d forgotten the guy was in the room.
Jessica’s ex had a look of intense amusement on his face as he set his beer on the coffee table and stood. “I have a business dinner I need to get to, so I’ll leave you two to it,” he said. “Jess, don’t forget the Boys and Girls Club dinner starts at seven on Saturday.” Steve crossed the small space and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Good luck with your plans tonight.” And as he straightened up, the look he flashed Cutter was filled with awareness, as if he was onto Cutter’s strategy. “You, too.”
Steve’s smile added a silent ‘You’re going to need it.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
AS they stood in front of Puerta Sagua restaurant, the scent of tomato and garlic Cuban sofrito permeating the night air, Kevin smiled at Jessica. His dimples reappeared for the hundredth time that night. “Would you like to have dinner again this Saturday?”
Jessica stared up at him. The man was perfect. Interesting. Funny. Polite and articulate. And the blond, blue-eyed good looks were certainly nice. She’d been on the receiving end of several jealous looks from their waitress. And yet, throughout dinner, Jessica had compared him to Cutter with every word that came from his mouth.
After all the time she’d spent with Cutter, frustrated by his attitude and the brash words that drove her crazy, she couldn’t even get a rest while out on a date. In his absence, her mind had been supplying all the sarcastic observations he would have made if he’d been there. Kevin’s mention of the art gallery had started it, and the next thing she knew she was filling in for Cutter in his absence—a Wildcard running commentary in her head.
Most distracting.
Frustrated, Jessica smiled tightly as she met Kevin’s gaze. “I’ll be busy this weekend.” Busy figuring out how to get Cutter Thompson out from under her skin. And the desperate hope she’d be successful made her leave the door open for Kevin. “Maybe some other time?”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
He leaned in, and Jessica held her breath in anticipation. This was what she’d been waiting for. The moment when all would be redeemed. But when he kissed her oh-so-lightly on the lips, she felt...
Nothing.
No sizzle. No spark.
Not even a weak hint of a faint flicker.
Annoyed with herself, she pulled back and said good-night—the irritation mounting as she watched him walk to his car at the curb, step inside and take off down the road. And the hope she’d want to see Kevin again took off in the backseat with him.
If a kiss couldn’t raise her pulse even a notch above flat-line dead, what was the point?
Jessica heaved a sigh and headed for her car parked a little further up the street, ignoring the people streaming around her on the sidewalk.
Cutter had teased her for being too picky in her prescreening process, but this had been the third man she’d met face-to-face this week. Each time the evening should have been enjoyable, but it wasn’t. Every night she’d gone to bed, listing the favorable qualities of her date in her head, but had slipped into a sleep where her dreams were filled with Cutter. Spine-tingling, erotic dreams that left her shaking with need. Dark, dangerous dreams that left her dying to know how they ended. But she always woke way too soon, heart pounding, her body on fire and feeling unfulfilled.
Awake or asleep, it didn’t matter—the man with the rare devilish grin and the cynical attitude was now constantly at her side. Either live and in the gorgeous flesh, or in her thoughts and dreams. At this rate, he would follow her to her grave.
Frowning, Jessica reached her car, unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat, pulling the door closed with a frustration-driven thunk.
It hadn’t helped that Cutter had remained silent about her lack of enthusiasm after each date. Amazingly, there had been no sarcastic comments; he’d kept his opinion to himself and helped her choose her next prospect. And damn him, despite his cynicism, he’d chosen well.
In theory, each of the men Cutter had selected looked perfect. But, when presented with the reality, not one of them had clicked for her.
With a sigh, she sank back against her seat and watched the people stroll by on the sidewalk. Tourists and locals. Families and groups of friends out on the town. And then there were the couples...
And why was she enormously successful at helping others find love, but a miserable failure when it came to herself? It was the feedback from her work, the delighted clients who stopped by to thank her, that kept her going. And hoping. But lately she’d had moments of worry, times when a small part of her had wondered if Cutter was right about her divorce disqualifying her from her profession.
Lovely, now the man had her doubting her business skills.
But she had abundant proof that—at least professionally—she knew what she was doing. No, her biggest doubts were reserved for herself, because all her relationships had ended in failure. But unlike her female clients, those that had been treated poorly, Jessica couldn’t even blame the men. Every one of her failed relationships had been with guys that other women dreamed about.
So what did that say about her?
Anxiety spread from her gut to her veins, circulating to every corner of her body. She’d held out for the good guys, invested herself and worked hard to keep the romance alive. Yet every single time it had ended, she was left questioning what had happened. Alone and wondering why. The whole it’s-not-you-it’s-me platitude was getting annoyingly old. It had started with Steve and continued since her divorce.
She had zero proof she could be successful at love, so...did that mean she was just destined to fail?
When she was alone, that soul-sucking fear was overwhelming. But now she was so massively attracted to a man who was the polar opposite of what she needed that she couldn’t mount a speck of enthusiasm for anyone else. Her body was immersed in a fog of desire that clung to her whether Cutter was with her or not.
She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead to the steering wheel.
Think, Jessica. Think. Where is the woman famous for formulating logical plans and following through?
In an effort to cope with the sadness, the day her divorce was finalized she’d mapped out her goals for the future. She’d done it before. She could do it now.
So how did a woman purge a diabolically sexy man from her thoughts? Jessica nibbled on her lip, considering her options. Denying herself hadn’t helped. Pretending the attraction didn’t exist and trying to move on hadn’t worked. And if her body’s lack of response to the fabulous Kevin was any indication, she was in serious trouble. So maybe she needed to get Cutter out of her system? Scour away his influence over her by discovering what sex would be like with the bad boy with a bad attitude. End the mystery, once and for all.
The possibility set her heart pumping in a way full-frontal contact with Kevin never could. Maybe it was time to shut off her brain and heart and indulge the body. Just once. She’d never had a one-night stand in her life, had never even wanted one before. Yes, she’d have to deal with Cutter until the contest was over. But she was an intelligent, sophisticated woman. She could handle it.
More importantly, she had to handle it.
Because deep down she feared that if she didn’t exorcise Cutter from her thoughts, she’d be stuck in this sensual limbo forever. Wanting him for the rest of her life.
Heart thumping like a wild thing, Jessica started her car and pulled out into the street, heading for Cutter’s.
* * *
Kneeling on the floor of the ’Cuda, Cutter gave the bolt on the driver’s seat one more wrench until, satisfied it was secure, he settled onto the passenger bench lining the back of the car, admiring his handiwork.
“Cutter?”
Jessica’s voice toppled his thoughts, scattering them. “In here.”
Her elbows rested on the door frame as her face appeared in the window. “Why are you sitting here without music?”
“Wasn’t in the mood.”
The small smile on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes, and he wondered why. “Is Springsteen losing his charm?”
“Just preferred silence.”
Actually, Cutter had been so busy lately he’d forgotten his need for loud music. He’d installed the carburetor, purchased new tires and today he’d mounted them—leaving his hand weak and his chest throbbing from the heavy lifting. The remainder of his time this week had been spent researching his idea for a new business venture. It was turning out to be more viable than he’d thought. Overall, Cutter was pleased with his progress towards taking back his life.
But not nearly as pleased as he was to see Jessica.
And therein lay the problem.
He studied her for a moment, wondering why she looked distracted. “Your date ended early.” No surprise there. If he’d known how safe it was to shove her in the direction of other men, he might have come up with the plan earlier. When she didn’t reply, he went on. “What was wrong with Kevin?”
His question brought a slight frown to her lips and she stared at him a moment more, as if about to protest she’d found anything wrong at all. But she always did. Which, in some ways, he found extraordinarily amusing.
All those do-gooders and not one had captured her interest.
The three successful men had been well-rounded, charmingly funny in their emails and good-looking. One owned several hip hotels that were so cool they’d landed him on the cover of Entrepreneur magazine. Hell, Cutter would have dated the man himself—if he’d been oriented in that direction, of course. Which he wasn’t.
Jessica opened the car and climbed in to sit beside him, pulling the door shut with a thump and tossing her purse on the seat. Her seductive scent closed in around him. Surprised by her actions, he swept his gaze down and took in the sight. Breasts outlined by her silk blouse, a skirt that ended mid-thigh, offering him an eyeful of bare skin. Yeah, he was definitely firmly oriented in the female direction.
Most notably this female.
But why did she look so disturbed?
She stared at the front seat, as though a great secret was embossed in the black leather. With a deep inhalation, she opened her mouth and then paused, biting her lower lip. When she blew out a breath, her words came out in a rush. “I’ve decided to engage in the first one-night stand of my life.”
Comprehension hit him hard, and there was a collective groan of ‘about damn time’ in his every molecule. The pain in his ribs faded as desire, the living entity that had consumed him for days, throbbed to new heights. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life.
But the depth of his desire was another snag he hadn’t counted on.
And as her words one-night stand settled deeper, as if she was already prepared to move on before she’d even experienced what they could share, Cutter frowned—bothered by the limitation she’d set before they’d even started. She’d assumed it wouldn’t be good enough to make her want more.
She was writing the whole thing off before the first taste.
Her silky blouse was a brilliant red that made her brown eyes brighter and her skin glow. She looked at him expectantly as his fierce need battled his growing impatience, both with her...and with himself for wanting her so much.
As the seconds ticked by without him responding, she lifted both eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
He shifted in his seat to face her. “I’m thinking.”
He was pondering how it felt to have this woman change her mind. But not by much. Clearly, he still wanted her more than she wanted him. And he hated being left holding the short end of the stick. Old resentments flared, and it was impossible to ignore that hard-earned childhood lesson.
Never invest yourself in someone who wasn’t invested in you.
A furrow appeared between her brows, a faint frown on her lips. “Last week you were trying to convince me to skip out on my date and spend the night in your bed.”
The need to needle was strong, and he feigned surprise. “So I’m the lucky recipient of your decision?”
She looked at him as if he were crazy. “Would I come here to tell you I was going against my usual good sense with someone else?”
He bit back a bitter laugh at her statement. The woman based her life’s work on fostering honest dialogue. And she wasn’t sparing his ego now. “Maybe I’ve decided I don’t want to be your consolation prize while you look for something better.”
Her frown grew deeper, as if refuting his statement. “It’s not about a better man. It’s about finding the right one for me.”
He lifted a brow dryly. “I hate to break it to you, but your paint-by-numbers approach to selecting a guy won’t work.” He considered it a moment more as a new thought washed over him. “Could be the whole reason you’re attracted to me is because you consider me unattainable.” And the idea wasn’t comforting—to be wanted not because of who you were, but because of what you weren’t.
“That is not why I find you attractive,” she said.
Despite his doubts, the words brought a measure of male satisfaction. But watching her so obviously not wanting to want him was hell. He should teach her a lesson, tell her to go away and come back when she was really ready.
But it appeared he’d been damned as a kid and now he was damned as an adult.
Because, even though his ego had taken a hit, he wanted her to stay. Desire was winning the war inside, but he refused to roll over and make it easy for her. If she wanted him enough for one night—his gut burned at her limiting assumption—then he’d make her affirm her actions every step of the way.
“Why do you find me attractive?” Cutter finally responded.
Staring at Cutter, Jessica’s mind scrambled for a response. She’d been asking herself the same question since their first ride on his boat—when she’d wondered what kissing him would be like. And after the soul-wrenching decision to chase him down, to go against every plan she’d laid out the horrible day her divorce was finalized, here he was looking unhappy with her decision.
He’d looked down her shirt during their first Battle of the Sexes session. He’d seduced her beside shark-infested waters and the moment had sizzled in her memories since. So where was that guy? The one who had unsnapped his jeans in his bathroom, lust in his eyes, and stepped closer, telling her to let him know when she changed her mind. Well, she finally had, and this was his response?
She bit her lower lip, swimming in a mix of desire and doubt. She’d assumed all she would have to do was tell him, ‘Take me, I’m yours,’ and he would. But nothing about this encounter was going as expected, leaving her unnerved.
