by Aimee Carson
That was getting a vigorous workout.
Wishing she’d at least sit down so there was less of her to see and admire, he reached for the papers. “I’m not ‘tensed for every catastrophe,’ as you put it. I’m just being practical. Preparing an exit strategy ahead of time makes life easier for everyone,” he said smoothly.
“Don’t you ever just loosen up and let life happen?”
“No.” He slid the document forward, hoping she’d take the hint and finish the task at hand. “Because I might not like what life hands me.”
A barking scoff escaped from her mouth. “Since when did planning in advance guarantee to prevent tragedy?”
The innocently spoken statement knocked him hard, bringing the memories along, and he froze. The biggest tragedy in his life—his father’s death—had been precipitated by Blake’s carelessness...at a time when he’d been so sure he hadn’t a care in the world.
He’d been a thoughtless college frat kid that never gave a damn about the consequences of his actions.
His chest cinched tight and he locked the memories away, trying to subdue a frown. “I didn’t say planning guaranteed a tragedy-free life.” He lifted a brow meaningfully at the disturbingly beautiful woman standing before him. “But flying by the seat of your pants doesn’t help, either.”
They stared at each other a moment more, and he inched the document closer to her, using his best let’s-finish-this-up tone. “Do you want to have a lawyer review this for you?”
She shot him a look that suggested he was insane, and he realized he’d be hard-pressed to offer up a defense. “As of right now,” she said, “you’re the only lawyer I know.”
Tipping his head, he steadily held her gaze. “Unfortunately, my advice would be useless.” He gestured toward the agreements. “Conflict of interest and all.”
Jax parked a hip on the top of his desk. A flash of tanned, toned thigh peeked through the frayed hole in her jeans, briefly tripping up his train of thought and setting off a wail of warning in his head.
“I have an overwhelming urge to ask you to do just that,” she said as she looked down at him. “Something tells me if the contract wasn’t in my best interests...” her pursed lips twisted into a grin “...you’d rat yourself out.” Her grin grew bigger, hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’d love to see that.”
Blake’s internal siren grew louder. Her position, as well as the knowledge the attraction was mutual, made her all the more alluring.
“I can assure you, the contract is designed to protect us both,” he said as he leaned back in his seat, seeking distance.
She loosely shrugged her shoulders. “I believe you.”
“You should show a little more caution in the future.” His eyebrows crept higher. “Next time you might be dealing with someone who isn’t so trustworthy.”
“You exude trustworthiness. And at the risk of sounding like a lawyer basher, I doubt you learned that skill in law school. Are you a former Eagle Scout?”
“No.”
“Boy Scout?”
“No.”
“Come on, fess up.” Perched on the desk above him, she leaned closer, as if to share a secret, and shot him a teasing smile. Her sweetly spiced scent filled his nose, eliciting sensual visions, and his heart began to work harder at her proximity, even as he fought to maintain a calm expression. “In your youth you helped little old ladies cross the street, right?” she said.
Hardly. He’d spent his younger years with a rebellious streak a mile wide. And he’d fought long and hard to subdue the genetic tendencies his sister and mother wielded without a care. But his carefree days were long gone.
Blake calmly asked, “Are you going to sign the agreement or not?”
Delicately arched eyebrows pinched together in amusement. “I’m just here to help Nikki with her daily activities and drive her around. What could possibly go wrong?”
Lips twisting wryly at her words, his mind filled with the possibilities. But it was only one that consumed his mind. He could slip up, get lost in the sexual fog that enveloped him every time she was near.
His voice grew rough at the thought. “A great many things could go wrong.”
The worst of which would involve touching this woman.
As she held his gaze, the amused glint in her eyes slowly faded, replaced by something else, and tension billowed thick around them. He had the distinct impression she was finally considering just how...wrong, for lack of a better word, this living arrangement could become.
Or perhaps his traitorous libido had finally made itself known to the woman.
Frowning, she nibbled at a corner of her mouth, and Blake’s eyes were drawn to the process before moving on to her partially parted lips. Pink, soft and infinitely kissable lips. Which ultimately proved his downfall.
Because when her amused smile returned, he knew she’d caught him staring.
Fantasizing.
Her tone of voice and her words gave her away. “Would you feel more at ease if we inserted a no-kissing clause?”
Instantly, desire flared. Incinerating his thoughts. And every cell in his body demanded he pull her head down and take that too-sassy mouth with his. The seconds passed agonizingly slow, blood surging as the internal battle raged.
Lust versus reason.
Need versus duty.
Selfish college frat kid versus responsible adult.
Sweat prickled along his hairline as Blake mentally built a case against the insane craving to pull her onto his lap and give in to the fierce urge. Most notably, he needed a woman who fit with his life. One who was predictable. Rational. Jax was clearly neither of these. So why was he still contemplating kissing her?
Annoyed at himself, he removed a pen from the brass container on his desk, holding it out to Jax. “That won’t be necessary. Let’s just make sure everything goes smoothly.”
After a moment’s consideration, she took the pen and dropped her attention to the contract, scrawling her signature along the bottom with a carelessness that matched the woman herself. For a moment, he was distracted by the glimpse of the lacy pink bra beneath her shirt. The gentle cleavage. A view that was cut off when she pushed off his desk and stood, tossing the pen next to the contract.
“If that’s all,” she said, “I’m rejoining Nikki at the pool.”
Relieved, he gave a curt nod. “I’ll find you when I’m ready to drive you to your car.”
His gazed lingered on the agile swing of her long legs and the gentle sway of her hips as she exited, and he tightened his grip on his pen...doubting the sanity of hiring Jax. Which was confirmed when he caught a glimpse of their employment contract, where, right after he’d listed the job description and duties, Jax had added a single line: No kissing allowed.
With a groan, he leaned back in his chair, trying to decide if he should feel relieved he’d just solved his Nikki problem. Or alarmed he’d created an even bigger one with Jax.
THREE
Eyes fixed on the middle-aged man inside the small, glassed-in booth of the run-down parking lot, Jax carefully kept the panic from her tone as she leaned closer to the speaker in the window, acutely aware of Blake’s gaze on her.
“What do you mean I can’t retrieve my car until Monday? We still live in a democracy, don’t we? I have a right to retrieve my property, don’t I?” she said to the attendant, pointing at her old VW Beetle parked among all the other cars surrounded by a chain-link fence.
Jailed, just as she had been. And it wasn’t fair her car should pay the penalty for her mistakes.
“Cry me a river, lady.” Perched on his stool, the man swiped a hand through his thinning hair in irritation. “Next time don’t park your car in a two-hour parking spot and leave it there for six hours.”
“I got arrested,”
she said, her face flooding with heat at her poorly worded defense. But there was no taking back the overshare now. “I couldn’t move my car.”
“It’s not my fault you got tossed in the slammer,” he said, and Jax forced her chin higher. “And I ain’t the one making the rules, either,” he went on. “I’m just paid to follow them.”
“What rule dictates that I have to go to the city municipal building first?”
“The one that applies to a previous unpaid parking ticket of yours. And the order states you can’t get your car until you pay that delinquent fine. And you can’t pay that fine until Monday morning at nine o’clock.”
Jax opened her mouth to protest, but Blake interrupted.
“Then Monday morning it is. Thanks for your help,” Blake said smoothly, taking her elbow.
His touch brought back the memory of being in his office, the overwhelming need to kiss him, and every muscle in Jax’s body tensed. Despite his cool demeanor, she knew he was dying to make a comment about her delinquent parking ticket. The one she’d stuffed into the bottom of her purse. And with all the turmoil at the club recently, it hadn’t been high on her priorities.
Just one more sin stacked up on her towering pile of crimes.
And her need to secure a bit of freedom from Blake was escalating by the minute. The purposefully bland expression. The glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Not to mention her growing obsession with those broad shoulders, the lean hips and those lips...
As he led her back to his car, she hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. “I need my vehicle.”
“You can use Nikki’s until Monday,” he said reasonably.
A frown threatened. “But right now we’re not far from South Glade Teen Center. I was planning on leaving here and swinging by to check in with everybody.”
“I’ll take you.”
Her heart tanked. Great. More time cooped up with Blake in his car. The ride over had been strained as they’d both diligently ignored her additional condition on the contract, an impulsive decision on her part. But she hadn’t been able to stop herself, because Blake had been looking at her as if he wanted to kiss her and was dismayed by the thought at the same time. Not exactly an ego booster. And the last time a man had looked at her like that—with the combination of desire and a doubting-her-sanity look—she’d vowed she wouldn’t put herself into that position again....
Her stomach knotted as she remembered the expression on Jack’s face—the man she’d once hoped to build a permanent relationship with. Maybe even, God forbid, start a family.
Because who didn’t want a core group of people, or at least one other person, to whom you always belonged? Someone to lean on when the world turned cruel and unusual. Outside of the teen center, the concept of a permanent home had eluded her since she was ten years old. As a grown-up she’d finally been free to create one of her own. After a false start—her former boyfriend a massive disappointment, to say the least—she’d finally realized she didn’t need a man to achieve her goal.
The club had been all the family she needed.
She looked longingly at her beautiful, beat-up Beetle and let out a sigh. And she’d been so looking forward to escaping Blake’s presence in exchange for a visit to the center—her safe place since her adolescent days—giving her nervous system a much-needed holiday.
As they neared his sleek Lexus, Blake said, “I’m curious. Why do you need to go by the club?” He rounded to the driver’s side, looking at her over the hood. “To check in with the kids you’re supposed to be providing a good example to?”
She shot him a lethal look as she opened the passenger side and then dropped into the seat, pulling the door closed with a hard thunk.
Blake slipped into the driver’s seat. “And do tell,” he went on, closing his door and turning to face her, clearly struggling to maintain an impassive expression, “what other life lessons do you teach besides getting arrested, parking illegally and not paying your traffic fines?”
She refused to grind her teeth in annoyance. And it would be so much easier if he’d just go ahead and laugh at her with those sensual lips, so he could move on to more important things.
Like kissing her.
The sexual tension, the awareness, was a living, fire-breathing thing that was so much worse when enclosed in small spaces with the infuriating man. Especially now that she knew it was mutual.
Damn it.
“Trespassing?” Thickly fringed eyes on her, he went on lightly, listing the possibilities. “Shoplifting?” The knot of attraction and irritation in her gut twisted harder as he went on. “Or maybe—”
Desperate to end the sarcasm, she placed her fingers on that maddening, sensual mouth, halting his words. And everything went still.
Except for the need surging through her body...
Blood whooshed in her ears as his gray eyes, flecked with gold, remained fixed on hers. Her nerve endings vibrated from the sensation of firm lips, smooth, stubble-free skin and warm breath seeping between her fingers. There was no mistaking the heat in his gaze or the tension in his body, clearly a combination of lust and steel—the steel communicating just how much he was humoring her by not calling her out on her impertinent move. And what would he be like if the lust won and he released all that careful control?
As she held his mouth, the seconds ticked by with only the faint sound of their breathing, until she finally controlled her own emotions enough to keep herself from doing something rash.
Either throttling him or tasting that sexy mouth, she wasn’t sure which.
Her voice low, she forced herself to continue to meet his heated gaze. “You get one more comment, Suit. And then I’m cutting you off.” Two heartbeats passed, long enough for her to wonder if he was again contemplating kissing her, and then she said, “Well?” She dropped her hand and raised a prompting eyebrow, braced for his last verbal jab. Would it be angry? Amused? Or, God help her, sexual? “What’s the comment going to be?”
The pause was brief, but the intensity in his eyes scorched her insides, leaving the moment feeling longer than it was. “I think that with your lifestyle,” he said, his voice huskily amused, as if struggling between the dueling notions of humor and sex, “you should keep a full-time lawyer on retainer.”
Irritated by his words, Jax pressed her lips together and pivoted to face forward, crossing her arms to contain her thrumming heart in her chest. “Just turn on the car and drive.”
* * *
Blake parked on the street in front of the South Glade Teen Center and turned off his car, looking doubtfully at the old downtown warehouse that had been converted into a club for kids. Alarm bells were ringing in his head again, the same ones that had sounded earlier when Jax had touched him. But this alert was of a nonsexual kind and triggered by his environment.
To say that the club was located in a questionable part of town was being generous.
“It doesn’t look safe to park here,” he said.
“It isn’t,” Jax said with a careless tone as they
exited the Lexus and headed for the front door. “But with your fancy security system, I doubt anyone will steal your car. Of course, that won’t keep some random kids from having fun.”
The alarm crept higher. “Fun?”
“You know, doing a little redecorating with spray paint or a set of keys,” she said. Frowning, he opened the door to let her into the building, and she shot him a saccharine-sweet grin as she passed by. “Maybe a tire iron or two.”
Her tone was unconcerned. But then again, it wasn’t her car. Or maybe the many dents in her old Beetle were from a tire iron, as well.
His lips twisted wryly. “Thanks for the warning,” he said, following her inside.
They headed deeper into the building, passing clusters of kids of various ages and ethnicities. Alt
hough they eyed Blake with suspicion, each group was clearly excited to see Jax, some of the preteens rushing to give her a hug. The older ones were too cool for outward displays of affection, but beneath their ribbing and sarcastic comments lay a fondness that was impossible to miss.
And with each acknowledgment, Jax grew more relaxed, her previous tension evaporating as she ruffled heads and dispensed smiles, heading for the stairwell on the far side of the gym. They passed a contentious game of basketball involving a dozen lanky male adolescents, and several called out in greeting to Jax, joking about her arrest. She waved in reply and returned each verbal jab with a quip of her own, obviously knowing each kid’s history, leaving the players laughing as she started up the narrow stairway to the second floor.
“I’ll just swing by the office and check my mail,” she said to Blake. “I also need to get my guitar from my locker.”
“A guitar?” He wasn’t particularly surprised by her choice of instrument, and he tried hard to ignore the delicious curve of her backside, the seductive sway of hips just several steps in front of him as their footsteps echoed in the small, shabby stairwell. “Do you take requests?”
She kept her back to him. “I doubt I know anything you’d like to hear.”
“How about Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Free Bird’?”
Surprise brought her head around with a jerk. “‘Free Bird’?” Her eyebrows lowered in doubt, and her footsteps slowed. “I never would have pegged you for an old Southern rock fan.”
“I’m not,” he said, suppressed humor bunching his brow. “But anyone who’s been bailed out of jail should have ‘Free Bird’ as their theme song.”
Her eyes slowly narrowed as she stopped and faced him, raising his heart rate. Her location on the stairs brought them eye to eye, her mouth level with his.
The perfect position for capturing those lips.
“Your ability to deliver a subtle slap on the wrist is extraordinary, Suit,” she said silkily. “It takes real talent to chastise someone in the same breath as a musical request.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but the awareness did. “But I have my own ideas for a personal theme song.”
