I was about to protest – I didn’t think Lachlan should be whisked away from me the moment we arrived – but Lachlan’s eager, ‘Great!’ forestalled me.
My date removed his arm from around me. ‘I’d love that,’ he said to Jack, brimming with enthusiasm. ‘I wanted to give this to you, too.’ He pulled out an envelope from beneath his jacket and handed it to Jack. ‘It’s the proposal Evie spoke to you about.’
I was aghast at the inappropriateness of thrusting a written proposal at someone at their own party, but Jack merely murmured a polite thank you.
‘You don’t mind if I take the tour, do you?’ Lachlan asked me.
But the question was clearly rhetorical – from the maniacal glitter in Lachlan’s eyes, nothing short of Armageddon was going to stop him getting a personal tour of Jackson J Stevens’s penthouse apartment – so I merely fixed on a smile as the two men walked away.
And watching Lachlan clap his hand on Jack’s shoulder as though they were the closest of mates, I was thinking, Not looking like tonight, either, Evange-bloody-line.
‘Evie, I am in heaven!’ Drew exclaimed when I reached him at the bar.
I knew better than to put that enthusiasm down to my arrival. ‘What’s his name?’ I asked.
‘Charles. He’s a set designer. Drop dead gorgeous. There he is, over by that table. I’m simply consumed with lust!’
‘How unusual.’
‘Oooh – irony! Very Jane Austen of you. But I’ll still get you a glass of champagne, because that’s the kind of fabulous friend I am.’
While Drew organised my drink, I took in the utter perfection of the scene around me. Every single person was glamorous. The view from every angle, stunning. The apartment, truly wow-worthy – an origami-style miracle. The balcony doors opened and folded back on themselves in one long fluid line so that the inside appeared to become part of the outside. I could see Jack with Lachlan poised at the cross-over point, standing with Jack’s Stormy Sunday co-star, the impossibly beautiful Jessamyn French.
Jessamyn was in shimmering gold, a barely-there gown of goddess-like folds. Her hair was styled in a sleek gold fall from a genie-style knot on top of her head. She was so slender and elegant she made me feel like Steven Seagal – and I’m petite, dammit, if you discount the boob-factor!
Yep, the black coat was definitely staying on.
As I watched, Jessamyn reached out and stroked the button badge I’d given Jack. Her perfect, retrousse nose wrinkled up – a much more attractive wrinkling than I could manage with my own undistinguished proboscis, which I decided on the spot never to wrinkle again. Not that Jack seemed charmed as he removed Jessamyn’s hand from his chest. He was looking impatient, all lowered brows and downturned mouth. Lachlan, on the other hand, was boggle-eyed, staring at Jessamyn as though she’d descended from heaven.
Yep. Seduction plans rollicking along.
I turned my back on the scene and reached for the glass Drew was holding out.
‘Hang on, let me take your coat first,’ he said. ‘Jack has an area set aside as a cloakroom.’
I nabbed the champagne and took a protective step backwards. ‘I’m a bit cold. I’m keeping it on.’
Drew did a double-take. ‘Jack’s got outdoor heaters all over the deck. You’d have to be a cadaver to be cold up here. What’s the deal?’
‘If you must know,’ I said, grimacing, ‘I’m wearing a too-short, backless dress and feel a tad over-exposed.’
‘Last time I looked your back wasn’t some malformed Quasimodo mess. And your legs are damned fine for a short-arse.’
‘Drew, look around. I don’t want to look like a try-hard.’
‘Evie, I’ve never met anyone who tried less to look like one of the in crowd than you. Come on – at least let me take you behind one of those massive vases for a private viewing.’
He tugged me behind him, over to a darkened corner of the deck. ‘Right. Hand over your glass and that ghastly evening bag, which we will be donating to a cause next week.’
I obligingly handed over my stuff, and Drew reached for my belt. ‘Crikey, Evie, how tightly have you belted this thing?’ he asked.
‘Tightly enough.’
He battled for a few moments, but finally, the knot loosened. He spun me around, tugged the coat off. ‘Well, well. Very nice. Chloe?’
I stood, hands on my hips, facing away from him. ‘Yes. Finished?’
‘Just give me a quick squiz at the front view.’
Obediently, I turned, hands still on my hips. ‘Do I pass? I mean, apart from the boobs.’
‘Even with the boobs. Maybe because of the boobs. Pleeease can we go and show you off?’
I snatched the coat off Drew and scrambled back into it. ‘Not a chance, buddy.’
‘Evie, come on. You’re not intimidated by a few half-starved models and actresses, are you?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Spoil sport. Anyway, where’s Lachlan?’
‘Commandeered by Jack for a real estate tour.’
‘Without you?’
‘I wasn’t invited.’
‘That’s not like Jack.’
‘I’ve seen the apartment before.’
‘I mean it’s not like him to give a virtual stranger a guided tour.’
I thought for a moment. ‘I don’t think he likes Lachlan, if that’s what you mean. I think he’s being nice because of me.’
‘The same way you tolerate Jack because of me.’
‘That’s not true.’ Drew took a step back. Looked at me. ‘So then … you do like him?’
‘Well I don’t dislike him!’ I said, and felt myself blush. Hard.
Drew kept staring at me, and my pulse started to race.
And then his eyes widened. ‘Holy shit. Chloe was right.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Pheromones, Evie, pheromones. Pheromones of the Stevens variety, and I don’t mean mine.’
‘I don’t believe in pheromones.’
‘That’s like not believing in sweat glands. Ha!’ he basically crowed. ‘Pheromones – they got you.’
‘Stop saying pheromones.’
‘You and Jack! I can’t believe I didn’t see it myself. It’s kind of like high school – you know, where the guy pulls the girl’s pigtails and then runs? Yes, I’ve seen that thing he does with your hair. Or where the girl says something obnoxious! That would be your modus operandi, and I have examples galore if you want me to roll one out.’
‘I don’t want you to roll anything out, thank you very much. And there’s nothing between me and Jack except –’
‘Pheromones.’
‘I will punch you, Drew, if that word leaves your lips again.’
‘They’re there, whether I say the word or not.’
‘I don’t want that from Jack.’
‘It’s not about what you want.’
‘And he doesn’t want me either … that way, I mean …’
‘Told you that, has he?’
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Drew smirked. ‘He’s told you something different, hasn’t he?’
‘No! Of course not! At least … Oh, I don’t know what he means when he says stuff.’
‘Pheromo– yipppeeee-ooouuch!!!’
‘Told you I’d punch you.’
Drew laughed – and then, very deliberately, pulled one of my ringlets. ‘Pheromones,’ he said again.
Firmly belted into my black wool coat, despite the equatorial-strength outdoor heaters, I spent the night trying to dodge Drew and Jack and Chloe, while pinpointing where Lachlan was amongst the throng.
I was constantly foiled in my efforts to locate Lachlan by Jack’s actor friends, who snatched me away, one by one, for a stroll, a drink, a chat. I had to admit that for a bunch of famous people, they were unexpectedly … well, normal. Down-to-earth, and friendly, and good-humoured. But perhaps a little too inclined to reference one of Jack’s hitherto unknown (at least to me) assortment of
philanthropic activities. So while I was willing to admit that I might have been guilty of low-balling Jack’s score on my do-good-o-meter, I really did think I might scream if I heard his name one more time.
I certainly wasn’t hearing Lachlan’s name. Or voice, for that matter. In fact, I hadn’t seen Lachlan since he’d come over to gush about Jack’s apartment the moment the tour finished – when he was promptly swooped on by a celebrity friend of Jack’s, who ushered him away for a beer. But once the crowd thinned, I finally spied Lachlan, on the fringe of a group that had Jessamyn positioned at its centre.
Decision time.
I took a breath and walked up to Lachlan. ‘Have you had a good time?’
Lachlan gave me a distracted glance. He was rapt, watching Jessamyn hold court.
I touched his arm, trying to fix his attention on me. ‘It’s past midnight. We should go.’
Lachlan said something vague, eyes still on Jessamyn, who was mid-anecdote.
I tried again. ‘Lachlan? It’s late.’
Lachlan turned to face me at last. ‘Sorry, I’ve had a few drinks. Don’t think I can drive yet,’ he said.
His eyes certainly looked a little unfocused, but I was undeterred. ‘I can drive.’
Lachlan murmured something non-committal and returned to gazing at Jessamyn, leaving me in a quandary. An embarrassing quandary. He was my date – but I’d been effectively gazumped by the beautiful people tonight, who’d kept Lachlan enthralled and away from me.
Of course I was hardly the epitome of magnetic attractiveness in my black wool armour. Still … no use regretting the coat decision at that point.
Fact – it was late. Fact – I wanted to go home. Fact – I didn’t have the stomach for gazing at Jessamyn French. I debated the options in my head. Insist we leave now? Wait for Lachlan? Leave without him?
Normally, I would have taken my dating dilemma to Drew – but I had no desire to hear the word ‘pheromone’ this side of the next century.
‘What’s wrong?’ Jack asked from right beside me, and I jumped.
‘You scared the crap out of me, looming out of nowhere like that – that’s what’s wrong,’ I said.
‘That’s not why you were frowning,’ he said.
Determined breath. ‘Just thinking about making a move.’
‘How are you getting home?’
I hesitated. No need for Jack to know that I’d been relegated to the role of Jessamyn French’s understudy.
Except that Jack, shooting a look over at Lachlan, had figured it out without me. ‘Looks like he’ll be a while. I can take you.’
I did one of my snorts. ‘Yeah, right! Has it escaped your notice that this is actually your party?’
‘That’s not a problem.’
‘I don’t want to leave without Lachlan.’
‘You want to go. He doesn’t.’
‘We came together, we should leave together.’
‘Then he should be over here with you saying goodbye.’
My lips tightened. ‘Regardless, you can’t leave. Aside from the fact that it’s your party, you’re probably over the limit.’
‘I’ve only had one beer – and that was three hours ago. Not all actors are coke-sniffing alcoholics.’
‘No – only seventy-five per cent of you,’ I snapped, and then smacked my fist against my thigh. ‘Dammit, I had my claws in tonight. I swear you make me say those things.’
Jack looked confused. ‘What?’
‘Nothing. Just … nothing! Me. Being an idiot. That’s all.’
‘You’re not an idiot, Evangeline. You’re just … complicated. Which is kind of –’ He broke off. Shrugged.
Awkward silence.
I looked over at Lachlan. Made an indefinite gesture in his direction. ‘I guess I’d better …’
‘Evangeline, he’s in no state to drive, and we’d probably have to detach him from that lot with a crowbar. I’ll make sure he gets where he needs to when he’s ready. And in the meantime, let me fix the problem by driving you home.’
‘I can cab it, Mr Fix-it.’
‘Why, when I’m offering you a free ride?’
‘I can get a free ride with Drew, just as easily.’ Yeah, next century!
Jack laughed. ‘I love my brother but we both know he has the morals of an alley cat. He’s already telegraphed his intention of getting up to unspeakable acts with Charles, and I think a stop at your place might cramp his style.’
I looked over at Lachlan again. He had an eager-puppy look on his face that I found mildly repulsive – enough to absolutely put the kybosh on any thought of seduction. I felt like stamping my booted foot.
‘Evangeline, I’m perfectly ready to take you home,’ Jack said. ‘Stop being a hard-arse.’
‘All right,’ I said, throwing up my hands in defeat. ‘I’ll let Lachlan know I’m leaving, just in case he changes his mind. And for the record, although I’m grateful, I feel very guilty for dragging you away.’
‘Being dragged is so passive – I prefer to think of it as taking. Because that’s what I’m doing. Taking. You home.’
When we arrived at my place, I was out of the car like lightning, intending to disappear quickly. But Jack was just as fast, suddenly at my side, taking my elbow.
‘You’re getting terribly He-Man,’ I said, but aware it was a waste of time to protest, I let him lead on.
‘Now, go back to your party,’ I said, as I unlocked the house.
But Jack bustled me inside, followed me in, closed the door. ‘Peace and quiet. Nice. Any chance you could make me a cup of coffee before tossing me out, Evangeline?’
‘You hate my coffee.’
‘Tea then.’
‘You hate my tea.’
‘Make it hot chocolate.’
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I found myself taking a deep, slow breath. Which didn’t help. Because I had that weird breathing thing happening again. Man, I hated that. If only Jack hadn’t made me so uneasy, I would have skipped into the kitchen like Betty Homemaker, delighted someone actually wanted to drink a hot beverage I’d prepared.
Not that ‘uneasy’ was the right word. It was more that he made me too … too aware. Of how tall he was. How green his eyes were. How his hair looked – thick and black, hanging almost to his shoulders. The heat that seemed to radiate off him when he was too close like this.
Aware of my own skin, prickling inside my clothes. My breathing. The tensing of my fingers. The beat, beat, beat of my heart.
Of how quiet it was in the house. With just the two of us, alone.
‘Evangeline? Hot chocolate?’
The whole situation was so bloody stupid. Jack had guests at his own apartment waiting for him, so what the hell was he doing at my place asking for a hot drink? And why wasn’t I just getting the damned drink like a normal person?
‘You’ll hate my hot chocolate, too, but okay,’ I said, giving in. ‘Take a seat on the couch. And don’t even think about asking for a marshmallow!’
‘I’ll help you off with your coat first.’ Jack turned me so that my back was towards him, his hands moving to my shoulders.
‘No,’ I said quickly.
Jack had already started tugging the coat from my shoulders, clearly expecting me to undo the belt. A normal expectation. But I was tightening the belt, and my shoulders ended up uncomfortably pinched as the two of us pulled in different directions.
‘What’s wrong?’ Jack asked, clearly confused.
And really, why wouldn’t he be confused? It was a coat! Why wouldn’t I be taking it off inside my own home without any fuss? Jack wouldn’t notice what I was wearing. He’d seen enough skin tonight to immunise him against the sight of mine.
Annoyed with myself, I undid the belt, let my arms fall, and the coat came away.
I was about to stalk off when I felt Jack’s hand on my bare back, heard him suck in a harsh breath as his fingers ran the length of my backbone.
I sucked in a harsh breath of my
own as the tingling sensation ran right down my spine. It felt like an international incident was about to be sparked by my back after all.
Again, I tried to step away, but Jack’s hands closed almost convulsively on my upper arms. He pulled me, in one sudden movement, against him – my back to his chest.
‘I’m done with waiting, Evie,’ he said, wrapping his arms around me.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was the first time Jack had ever called me that. Evie, not Evangeline.
I had that one fleeting thought before my brain went blank.
Jack’s arms were wrapped beneath my breasts, which suddenly felt heavy, tight. My legs were trembling. Heart thudding. Chaos.
Jack spun me around to face him. His eyes blazed green heat; nostrils flared, as though he wanted to breathe me in.
And then his mouth was on mine.
I felt a violent smack of heat and threw my arms around him, hanging on tight. His teeth clashed against mine. Helpless with sudden need, I opened my mouth wider, inviting him in. I felt the bruising grip on my shoulders give, and then his hands were in my hair, anchoring my head as he continued to kiss me, his tongue in my mouth, pushing, probing, licking.
I was aware of the almost unbearable rasp of my erect nipples against the fabric of my dress, a rush of moisture between my legs. I squirmed against him, trying to get closer, needing to … to print him on me, print this one outrageous moment onto my body.
‘Evie,’ Jack breathed against my lips. ‘Let me … I need to do this. Need it, need you …’ and then he was planting open-mouthed kisses at the corner of my mouth, across my cheek, over to my ear, down my neck. Urgent, dragging, sucking kisses. ‘God,’ he groaned against my neck, feeling me shake with lust. ‘God, God, God,’ as one hand moved down my back, to my bottom, jerked me in tight. ‘I’m not going to be able to stop.’
‘Don’t stop,’ I groaned right back, shocking myself. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’
I was straining against him, trying to get closer, closer, closer. And then I heard, felt, a soft thud, and realised I’d pushed him flat against the door – I’d done that! – and we were closer all right, as though we were trying to merge our bodies together. I was on my toes, clutching handfuls of his hair to bring his mouth back to mine, kissing and moaning and … and wanting, in a way I’d never wanted before.
Wanting Mr Wrong Page 6
