“Tell me about you. We’ve spent our whole date talking about me. That’s really rude.”
“What do you want to know?”
A better question was, did she want him to realize how much she wanted to know about him? “Surprise me.”
“Okay.” Holding her gaze, he said, “I work for myself, and I love my job. I do both new construction and remodeling, and in my spare time, I make furniture.” He held her gaze, and she couldn’t look away. The blue of his eyes receded as his pupils dilated. “I’ve never been married and I’m not in a relationship, but I do have a thing for a beautiful woman with black hair and gorgeous blue eyes. She’s a little prickly, though, so I’m treading carefully.”
He was trying to fluster her. So she leaned closer. “Really? Does this mysterious woman have a thing for you, too?”
“I think so,” he said, his voice a low, sexy rasp of velvet. They were both leaning forward over the table now, their faces only inches apart. “The last time I saw her, she was pretty enthusiastic. Definitely seemed like she had a thing for me. In fact, she told me so. Loudly. Several times.” He leaned a little closer. “A couple of those times, she asked God to witness how much she had a thing for me.”
The waitress chose that moment to appear with the check. She slid it onto the table between them and hurried away. But the spell was broken.
Thank God.
That night was spooling through her head, one picture after the other. Jamie taking off her dress. Putting his hands on her breasts. His mouth.
Sliding down her body, trailing kisses over her ribs. Her belly, her sides. Holding her down as she squirmed. Swirling his tongue over her clit, which was already throbbing for him. Making her scream as she came embarrassingly quickly.
She remembered his cock, thick and long, sliding into her. Remembered rolling on the bed with him, falling to the floor, neither of them noticing.
Yeah, she’d had a thing for Jamie, too. More than she’d had for any other man in her thirty-four years.
It was why she’d left before he woke up the next morning. Why she’d never been back to that club.
Jamie made her want things she couldn’t have.
Without taking his eyes off her, he slid the money into the black folder, then held out his hand to help her up. His jeans were snug, the bulge behind his zipper prominent. When she stood, he guided her in front of him, then steered her toward the door. His hand on her back was burning hot. Every time he flexed his fingers against her muscles, she felt every one of them. It was as if the thin fabric of her tee shirt had disappeared and his hand was on her bare skin.
His thumb moved, sending jolts of electricity over her back and up her spine. What was she going to do? She’d see him every day for the next month. Or more.
As they stepped outside, she moved away from his hand. He didn’t touch her again until he’d opened the door to his truck. Then he held her elbow as she stepped awkwardly into the cab.
“So,” he said as he started the engine and pulled smoothly out of the parking spot. “Back to your office?”
His voice was brisk. Impersonal. As if they hadn’t exchanged all those memories back in the restaurant. As if they’d enjoyed a pleasant first date, and he was escorting her home. Except he was taking her to her office, where she had to sort through client folders from her destroyed file cabinets.
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “I’m in court tomorrow, and I have to finish preparing. Then I need to alphabetize those folders.”
“Lot of work do to in one night,” he said, no inflection in his voice. “Want me to put the folders in the truck and drive you home? It would probably be more comfortable to sit on your couch and sort.”
“It would, but then I’d have to get the folders back to the office. No driving for a while, remember?”
“I’ll pick them up and bring them back for you.”
“Thank you, Jamie, but I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve spent far too much time with me today already.”
He slowed for a red light and glanced over at her. “I’ll be honest, Helen. I don’t like the idea of you in that office at night, especially after you said you thought the guy driving the car accelerated. Where do you live?”
“I have a two-flat in Bucktown.”
“How’s your security?”
“My security is fine. Heavy-duty locks on all the doors. A video surveillance camera over the front door.”
“I’m impressed.”
“I had some trouble with a case a few years back.”
“Does every lawyer have nut jobs for clients?”
She relaxed into the seat. “Once in a while. Custody cases are always emotional. Wrenching. And someone’s usually angry.”
They pulled up in front of her office, and she shivered as she stared at the plywood, gleaming yellow in the light from a streetlamp. It would be dark inside. She had one working lamp in the inner office. No, she didn’t want to work here tonight.
“What’ll it be, Helen? Work here? Or at home?”
“At home,” she sighed, surrendering. “Thank you. I don’t want to be here tonight, either. You and Quinn and Connor spooked me.”
“Thank God.” He slid out of the truck, but this time she made sure she was on the sidewalk before he reached her. She didn’t want his hands on her again tonight.
Liar. She wanted his hands on her too much. So it would be best to keep her distance.
Helen unlocked the piece of plywood and pushed the door open. A triangle of yellow light spilled onto the dirty tile floor and illuminated the piles of folders against the wall.
“Shall I put them all in the truck?”
“Thanks. I’ll get the ones in the office.”
She heard Jamie walking back and forth to his truck as she gathered the folders from her current cases and stacked them on her chair. By the time she’d stuffed them into her tote, Jamie had carried all but three piles of folders out the door. After one more trip, she locked the plywood behind them.
Jamie was taking her home.
To help her get her files upstairs. No other reason.
She should be relieved.
Not disappointed.
Chapter 4
The drive to her apartment was far shorter than Helen had hoped it would be. She had no idea what to do with Jamie once they arrived. He’d help her carry the files into her apartment – that was a given. No way would he pass up the opportunity to see her place.
She sighed as he backed into a parking place in front of her building. That wasn’t fair. There was no way Jamie would let her carry those files up the stairs by herself. He was too much a gentleman. Too thoughtful.
They could be quick, though. A couple of trips up the stairs, a thank you for his help, a brief good night. Done.
Then she’d have a little time to deal with her feelings about him. And by the time he started working on her office, she’d have sorted everything out and put that incident a year ago behind her.
Like she hadn’t tried to do that for the past year.
This time, she had no choice. Because if she couldn’t get past it, it would be hell to have him working in her office for the next month or so. Unbearable.
If she spent enough time around Jamie, she might fool herself into thinking she could have those things after all. And that couldn’t happen.
She shoved the car door open and slid onto the curb. Her foot throbbed painfully in time with her heartbeat, and she shifted her weight to her left foot. She should have listened to the doctor and stayed home today. Kept it elevated. Iced it.
That hadn’t been an option. She had to be in court in the morning and finalize Melinda Ashcroft’s custody petition.
She’d come home afterward, she promised herself. She’d sit on the couch and alphabetize her files. Keep her foot elevated.
Right now, she had to get a grip and get rid of Jamie.
“I’ll take an armful of the files,” he said as he opened the door on the back of h
is truck. “You unlock and open the doors for me.”
“I can carry some of the files.”
He glanced at the tote bag slung over her shoulder, as if he saw how the straps were digging into her muscles. “Nah, I got this.” He nodded toward the front door. “You deal with those heavy-duty locks.”
She wanted to argue, but that would be childish. So she limped to the front door and opened it, then waited for Jamie to join her.
He edged into the tiny vestibule, holding a two-foot-high pile of files. His hip brushed hers when he turned sideways to let the door close, and she closed her eyes as her inner muscles clenched.
She had to get rid of Jamie quickly. Or she’d be begging him to stay.
He acted as though he hadn’t felt that rush of heat. Of desire. That was good, she told herself as she stumbled up the first stair. That’s what she wanted.
He took her elbow to steady her, and she shivered. Actually shivered, and it had to be close to eighty degrees in the stairwell. As she walked slowly up the two flights of stairs, her body heated and more than her ankle throbbed. Get him out of here. Now.
Her fingers fumbled with the key when she tried to unlock her door. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then another. Feeling steadier, she tried again and her door swung open.
A single lamp spread golden light on the table next to the couch. She hadn’t expected to be back so late, but she hadn’t wanted to come home to a dark apartment. Dropping the heavy tote bag next to the door, she flipped the switch on the wall and warm light flooded the room. Then she stepped aside to allow Jamie through the door.
He paused in the doorway, and she watched his gaze wander around her living area. Then he shifted the folders in his arms and smiled at her. “Looks great, Helen. Not what I expected.”
“Really?” She gestured at the coffee table. “You can put the files there. What did you expect?”
“Something…cooler. Understated.” He set the files down as his eyes drifted around the room again. “More controlled.”
Is that how he saw her? Cool and controlled?
That was good, she told herself. Better that he had no idea how he undid her. “I’m cool and in control in the courtroom,” she said, surprising herself.
“Not in your personal life, though.” His gaze met hers, and she saw the memories there. Memories that matched hers. That night, she’d been as far from cool and controlled as a person could get.
“Not in my decorating, anyway.” She carried her tote bag to the couch and glanced at the faded Oriental carpet, the wall of cherry bookcases that had belonged to her parents, the deep, comfortable couch covered in bright red fabric and multi-colored pillows. Here, she was all about comfort.
“Let’s get the rest of those files,” she said after a too-long moment. She avoided his gaze as she started for the stairs.
“I’ll get those,” he said, taking her arm and steering her toward the couch. “You sit down and put your leg up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She eased away from his touch. “I can help carry the files.”
Jamie took both of her elbows and held her in front of him. “I saw you limping up the stairs,” he said quietly. “Your ankle hurts, doesn’t it?
She rolled her shoulders. “Of course it does. It’s sprained.”
“So sit down and elevate it. I’ll get the rest of them.” He held out his hand. “You want to give me your keys so I can get back in?”
She stared at him a minute and realized he wasn’t going to give in. Jamie’s easy-going, laid back persona hid a stubborn streak. “Fine,” she muttered, pushing the keys into his hand a little too hard.
“Want me to get you a bag of ice before I get the rest of the files?”
“I’m fine,” she said, a little too forcefully. “It’s bad enough that you’re doing my work.”
He studied her for a moment. “Don’t let people help you much, do you, Helen?”
“Of course I do. I called Quinn and Connor this morning to ask them about the accident.”
He smiled. “So you just don’t want help from me,” he murmured. “That’s interesting.”
“Get the files, Jamie.”
He saluted and disappeared down the stairs. It sounded as if he was taking them two at a time. Maybe he had somewhere else to be and was in a hurry to get out of here.
Maybe he was in a hurry to get back to her.
A tiny quiver of hope crept through her traitorous body, and she squashed it mercilessly.
It took four more trips before all the files were in her living room. The first pile had fallen over and lay on the floor, spread out like a giant deck of cards. Jamie leaned against the door and said, “So, do you have some banker’s boxes? Some old copy paper boxes? Something to put them in?”
“No. But that’s a good idea,” she admitted. “I’ll pick some up tomorrow.”
“Without a car?” He raised his eyebrows.
“There are these things called cabs,” she said. “They’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Helen.” He stared at her intently, as if he meant every word. Then he smiled. “Within limits. I’m not taking you to Paris.”
She smiled, relieved that he’d been teasing.
“At least, not yet.”
Her smile disappeared. “Jamie…”
“Yeah, I know. Way too soon.” He tossed her keys in the air, grabbed them on the way down. “I saw an office supply store a couple of blocks away. I’ll get you some boxes. It’ll make it easier to tote the files back to your office.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, frowning. “That’s too much to ask.”
“Make it easier for me when I pick them up,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but I can get them myself.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You want to call your cousins? Have them pick up some boxes for you?”
“Of course not. They’re way too busy.” She frowned at him. “Just like you are.”
“I think I get to decide how busy I am. I’ll be right back.”
Before she could object, he was out the door. He pulled it closed behind him and checked the lock. A minute later, she heard the roar of his truck on the street below her window.
What was she going to do about Jamie?
***
As he pulled into the small parking lot in front of the office supply store, Jamie loosened his grip on the steering wheel. He’d needed this drive to cool off.
He slammed the door to the truck and shoved his keys into his pocket. Helen was making it nearly impossible to keep his hands off her.
He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He saw it in the way her eyes darkened when she met his gaze. The tell-tale blush that crept down her neck into the vee of her tee shirt when he leaned close. The way her hands shook when he touched her.
She was determined to keep him at arm’s length, though. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d find out. He had a month. Or more.
He relaxed his jaw as he walked into the store. Helen was like a powder keg, primed to explode. He’d make sure he was the one who supplied the spark.
He’d been determined to give her a little time. She’d been shaken when she recognized him. As shocked as he had been.
It had taken a heartbeat for shock to turn to desire. Arousal. He’d been hard a minute after realizing who she was.
She’d been wary, though. So he’d planned to take it slow, let her recognize for herself what they had together.
Maybe slow wasn’t his best option. Maybe slow would give her a chance to build up her walls and re-stock her ammunition.
Much more fun to have her losing control beneath him. Or on top of him.
He grabbed a handful of boxes, paid for them and drove a little too quickly back to her apartment. After he’d raced up the stairs and opened her door, she looked up from her perch on the couch, her booted foot propped on the coffee table, her computer open on her lap
.
“That was quick.”
“Occasionally, quick is good.”
Her cheeks colored and that amazing pink traveled down her neck and into the vee of her shirt. She was remembering their earlier conversation.
His cock stirred, and he closed his eyes. He’d been half-hard since he walked into her office and realized who she was. All day, it hadn’t taken much to go from half-mast to full speed ahead.
It should be embarrassing. It would be, if he hadn’t seen the same reaction in Helen. She was a woman and it wasn’t quite as obvious, but he’d studied her thoroughly that night. He knew her tells.
“Got six boxes,” he said, leaning them against the wall. “Should be enough to get started.”
“Thank you,” she said. “That will help when I get a chance to organize the files.”
“You’re not doing it tonight?”
“Probably not.” She leaned against the back of the couch and closed her eyes for a moment, and he saw the weariness on her face. “I have to get ready for this case tomorrow.”
She shifted her injured foot, and he saw the wince of pain. “You want me to get you some ice for that ankle?”
Helen glanced at the boot resting on her coffee table. “Yeah, I should probably ice it. But I can get it myself.” She swiveled to face him. “Thanks for your help today, Jamie, but you need to go. I’ve kept you way too long.”
She hadn’t kept him nearly long enough. “Not a problem. Nothing waiting for me but a beer and a baseball game on television,” he said lightly. “Kitchen that way?” He pointed down the hall.
“Really, Jamie, I’m fine. I can get an ice bag.”
He was already halfway to the kitchen. He passed an old table and chairs in the dining room, lovingly cared for, and then walked into her kitchen. The appliances were new, and although it was a small space, it was bright and cheerful. A green clock ticked on the pale yellow wall, the counter was bright red, and the potholders hanging next to the stove were electric blue. It was an energetic room.
He found a plastic storage bag in one of the drawers and filled it with ice, then wrapped a kitchen towel around it. Helen was struggling to stand up when he walked into the living room.
Love Me Page 3
