by Lori Foster
She sniffed. “No, it’s a quaint local shop.”
“Very local. And the school board can’t touch me on morals charges. Not when one of the teachers moonlights at a strip club and another has been picked up twice for brawling. Their big gripe is that I don’t follow their procedure, even though I’ve proven my procedure to be more effective.”
Sophie gave him a sad smile. “This matters a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
Damn. How had he let the subject get so sidetracked? “It matters,” he admitted, “but that’s not why I’m here.” He suddenly felt a little self-conscious and reached out to touch a satiny-soft camisole hanging on a rack. “I, uh, I wanted some advice.”
Allison crept back over to them. “Oh, good. I love giving advice.”
Mack ran a hand through his hair. “The thing is, I know Jessica.”
“No!” Sophie put a hand to her chest.
Allison nudged her, then cleared her throat. She gave Mack her undivided attention. “You know her? From where?”
Something wasn’t right, but damned if Mack could figure out what. He’d never understand his sisters-in-law, and he’d given up trying. “I knew her in college. We took a class together. I always liked her, but she—well, she’s not too fond of me for some reason.”
Sophie raised her brows in theatrical surprise. “Wait a minute! Jessica isn’t the woman you always talked about when I helped you to study, is she?”
“One and the same.”
Allison leaned back against a display table of panties. “Fascinating coincidence.”
Frustrated, Mack paced away, then back again. “Yeah, I know. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. But now that I have seen her again, I want her.”
Allison straightened at that. “Maybe I’m too young to hear this.”
Sophie smothered a laugh. “I’m not. Go ahead, Mack.”
He stared at both of the women, then blurted out, “Which of those goofy lingerie things do you think she’d like the most?”
They looked at each other before Sophie asked, “You want us to tell you which things will be likely to…uh…”
The women were staring at him so wide-eyed, he felt his ears turn red. He wanted to get this over with so he could get back to his planning. “To turn her on. Yeah. So what do you think?”
Sophie choked, but Allison gave it serious thought. “I like the soft cotton stuff. Cotton feels so good on men and it hugs all those sexy muscles. Chase looks just adorable in cotton boxers, especially the snug-fitting kind.” She turned to Sophie. “Weren’t there a few of those in the box?”
Sophie tried unsuccessfully to get rid of her grin. “Um, yes. They have little”—she gestured toward Mack’s fly—“silver snaps up the front.”
Allison patted his arm. “With your dark coloring, try the black ones. Or the forest green.”
Sophie shook her head. “I rather like the silky ones. In white.”
“So you think if I wear those for Jessica, I mean for the shoot, she’ll…ah, enjoy the sight?”
“Most definitely.”
“Absolutely.”
Mack shook his head, grinning. “Why do I get the feeling you two are up to no good?”
Sophie shrugged. “You obviously have a suspicious nature.”
She looked too innocent, and he didn’t like it. “Where exactly did you meet Jessica?” He didn’t think he had ever shared her name with Sophie, though he had described her on numerous occasions. Hell, for a while there she was all he could think of, until he’d resigned himself to never seeing her again.
“She shops here.”
Mack felt like someone had doused him in fire. He looked around at all the sexy stuff on mannequins, hanging in displays, stacked softly on tables, and his heart thumped. He pictured her stretched out on a bed, his bed, her lush body barely covered in black satin or white lace. “She really wears this stuff?”
Allison gave him a pitying look. “What did you think she wore? Burlap?”
“No, but…which stuff?”
“Ah, now that would be telling, and I can’t do that.”
“Sophie?”
Sophie crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Allison’s right, Mack. If you want to know what kind of lingerie Jessica wears, you’ll just have to find out on your own.”
He damn well intended to.
A few minutes later Mack walked out the front door, thinking what lucky dogs his brothers were. He glanced back once and saw Allison and Sophie collapsed against each other, laughing hysterically. He smiled. He didn’t mind their ribbing at all since they’d been totally honest with him. Poor Jessica. She didn’t stand a chance.
Chapter Four
Jessica felt so confused, she didn’t know what to think, or precisely how to handle her new decision.
Mack had been hanging around all week, working with Trista, laughing and joking, making his presence unmistakably known. When he was around, Jessica felt it in every pore of her body. She’d catch herself listening for his laugh, or looking to catch a glimpse of him in between appointments. He and Trista mostly worked in the office, but after the first day Trista had asked if Mack could go upstairs with her to help make lunch. The upstairs was where they lived, and Jessica didn’t want him invading her home as well as her office, but she couldn’t find a reasonable excuse to deny him. And after that, they often went upstairs, getting drinks or looking for books, or using the computer. Trista adored him, and already she had new confidence in her abilities at school.
Often, when Jessica’s workday was over and Mack had gone home, she’d find signs of him upstairs still. Notes he’d scrawled for Trista, a hat he’d left behind, even his scent lingered. Sleeping was difficult, because no matter how she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking of him and how he’d made her feel. He’d only kissed her and barely touched her, yet she’d been more aroused than she could ever remember. She wanted him, and the wanting wasn’t going to go away.
He hadn’t been especially familiar with her since that first day. He was, in fact, a perfect gentleman, talking politely, minding his manners, respecting her wishes to be left alone.
Though it shamed her to admit it, she hated it that he’d given up so easily. Or had he?
She hoped not, because she’d already decided she wanted, needed, to know what it was like to be with him. He looked at her and it affected her more than a physical touch. She hadn’t felt like her old self since he’d first kissed her, and she saw no reason she shouldn’t indulge herself for once. But just once.
Today he’d be back for the shoot, and she didn’t quite know what to expect or how to make her declaration. Since that first day Trista had been close by to act as a buffer, and she supposed that could possibly account for part of Mack’s restraint. When he was studying with her, his attention was undivided. But now Trista would be in school, and she and Mack would have quite a few hours alone and uninterrupted.
And Mack would be wearing those damned seductive undergarments again.
Just the thought of it made her palms sweat, her heart jumpy. She looked around the studio, making sure everything was in place. With any luck, they could finish up early and then, if Mack was still willing, use the rest of the afternoon to make love.
The doorbell rang and she jerked around, feeling guilty about her thoughts even though no one would know. She hurried out of the room, but at the door she stopped to compose herself, feeling like a foolish coed yet unable to help herself. She pasted on a smile and pulled the door open.
Mack leaned on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, his breath frosting in front of him. At the sight of her he smiled lazily. “Hey.”
Just that small smile, and her insides fluttered in anticipation. “Hello. Right on time.” She opened the door wider and he came in. Only he didn’t step to the side of her. He came right up to her. He cupped her face in his gloved hands and, casual as you please, he kissed her.
“I missed you,” he whispered against her mouth.
/> Flustered, she stammered, “You’ve seen me all week!”
“Hmmm. Seen you, but not been able to touch you.” He kissed her again, a light, barely there kiss, making her want more. “Did you miss me too?”
“Mack. This is—”
“Ridiculous?” He touched the tip of her nose and stepped around her, then peered into the empty office. “Where’s the receptionist?”
Swallowing nervously, Jessica tried to remind herself that she was thirty years old, an experienced woman, a divorcée who knew how to handle herself in any situation, never mind that she hadn’t been in this situation in too many years to count, and never with a man like Mack.
She laced her fingers together to keep her hands from shaking. “You’re the only appointment I have today, so there was no need for her to come in. She helps out mostly with appointments to view proofs or to pick up packages.”
Mack looked at her intently, one brow raised. “Then we’re here all alone?”
Now he would probably kiss her again. She licked her lips, anticipating his unique taste, the heat of his mouth. “Yes.”
He nodded, still looking at her. “I suppose we should get started?”
Disappointment filled her, but she hoped it didn’t show. “Yes, of course.” She didn’t understand him at all. He seemed to still want her, but if he did, then why was he waiting? She started down the hall and for the first time questioned her choice of clothes. The scoop-neck, cream-colored sweater was soft, and her plaid skirt almost reached her ankles. True, she often wore long skirts to work in because they were so comfortable, but today it had been a deliberate choice; she’d wanted to look more feminine for Mack. That decision now seemed beyond pathetic, and she had the irrational fear that he’d know it.
She cleared her throat once they were in the studio. “Sophie called and mentioned a few other things she wants you to wear.”
His brow shot up a good inch. “She did?”
“Yes. There’s some snap-front boxers and matching ribbed undershirts she definitely wants in the catalogue.”
Mack grinned, and an unholy light entered his eyes. “I see.”
Jessica handed him the first change of clothes, and Mack went behind the curtain. While he was there, she readied her camera and set up some scrims to filter the light, making the scene softer, more intimate. This particular scrim, or mesh filter, had denser spots, which provided a dappled look, like sunlight through leaves. She placed an old-fashioned quilt on the floor over artificial grass, then added some props to give it an outdoor look. She used a birdbath, a small bush, some flowers.
Mack stepped around the curtain just as she smoothed the quilt one last time. She smiled at him, barely managing to still her sigh of appreciation. The snug boxers and ribbed undershirt showed his big muscled body to perfection.
“For this shot,” she said, her voice just a little husky, “it’s going to look like you’re resting outside, enjoying the sunshine, totally at your ease. It’s to sort of show how comfortable the clothes are.”
“I can buy that.” He rubbed one large hand over his abdomen. “They do feel nice.”
She swallowed hard, wondering how it would feel to her hand—not just the fabric but his body beneath it. With a sigh, she looked him over from his tousled dark head, his intent eyes and stubborn, clean-shaven jaw, to his broad shoulders, lean hips, and long legs, all the way down to his big feet. She couldn’t imagine a man who looked more perfect, or more sensually enticing, than Mack Winston.
Her heart beat a little too fast, and she had trouble drawing an even breath. Mack watched her face, and after a moment, he said softly, “I like it when you look at me like that. You know, I memorized your features back in college. You’d sit there, refusing to look at me, staring at the instructor as if she spoke gospel, and I’d study you. Every little angle, the tilt of your nose, the slant of your jaw, how your lashes left shadows on your cheeks. I’d go nuts looking at the profile of your breasts.”
Jessica knew that was always the first thing men noticed about her, and it annoyed her. From the time she’d hit puberty, she’d worn a C cup. It had always been more of a nuisance than anything else. “All women have breasts.”
“All women aren’t you.” He came closer, then dropped to his knees directly in front of her. With only one hand, he touched her jaw, smoothed her hair back to her braid, then trailed his fingers down her neck to where it met her shoulder. He lifted his other hand and cradled her head, using his thumbs to stroke her jaw. Jessica felt herself trembling in anticipation, and knew he felt it too.
After a moment of heavy silence, he tilted his head to the side. “What is it about you, Jessica, that makes me feel this way?”
She stared at his collarbone, at where the low neck of the undershirt showed just a bit of hair on his chest. This close, she could smell him, the musky smell of aroused male. She swallowed hard and asked in a whisper, “What way?”
“Like I have to have you.” His hands drifted down to her shoulders, then inward, his fingers spreading wide over her upper chest. “Have to, just like I have to breathe, or eat. It was pure torture in college, trying to concentrate when I had a hard-on all the time. And all you wanted to do was snub me.”
She shook her head, unwilling to be pulled in with lies. “How could you have been thinking of me when all those skinny girls kept throwing themselves at you?”
He was looking at her breasts, and his hands skimmed over her sides to her waist. “I didn’t—”
Jessica scrambled back, wrinkling the quilt. “You did. You flirted and played around, and all the girls adored you.”
Mack dropped back to sit on his heels, studying her closely. “I also got straight A’s. Which I earned.”
“That’s impossible!”
“Ah, surprised you with that one, didn’t I? I guess you figured I coasted through with the lowest passable grades possible? Did you think that’s why I was interested in teaching inner-city kids? Because no influential school district would have me?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.” But of course she had thought it.
“You’re confusing me with him,” he said gently. “I’m not the one who hurt you, not the one who used you.” He lifted one shoulder, and his look was sad. “Honey, having fun doesn’t make you a bad person. It doesn’t make you irresponsible or frivolous. It’s okay to enjoy everything you do—your schoolwork, your friends, your job. Life.”
It hurt her to admit he might be right, that she might have been the one with the wrong outlook. “I guess that’s easier for some people than others.”
“Why? Why can’t you have a little fun?”
Despite herself, she smiled. “Fun, as in fooling around with you?”
“No fooling to it. Sometimes you need to take your fun very seriously.”
She had no idea what to make of that. His look was direct, hot, and very sensual. She shivered, then admitted, “I…I want to.”
His eyes gleamed, and though he didn’t quite smile, she saw the dimple in his cheek. “But?”
“It’s not easy to explain.”
“Well, now. I can be a pretty good listener when you give me a chance.”
No doubt Mack would be good at anything he did. But talking about her inhibitions, the problems that had nearly suffocated her just a few years ago, wasn’t easy. Talking about them with Mack was doubly hard, because she suddenly cared what he thought. He scooted closer, crossed his legs Indian style, and gave her a look of encouragement.
He looked young and sexy and caring and considerate. His body was hard and beautiful, his smile gentle. He was a female’s fantasy come to life, the epitome of temptation and magnetism. And he sat before her, waiting.
With a sigh, she gave in. “My husband and I met when I was a high school senior and he was in his second year of college. I’d always been sort of mousy, real quiet, and he was the first really popular guy to pay attention to me.”
Mack picked at a loose thread in the quil
t. “It’s tough for me to imagine you as mousy.” He glanced up and caught her gaze. “You’re so damn sexy now.”
She blushed. “Mack…”
“Go on.”
He flustered her so with his compliments, it was hard for her to gather her thoughts. “He was so much…fun. I was completely overwhelmed by him, and like a dummy, I wasn’t as careful as I should have been. I got pregnant.”
Mack snorted. “He was older, and no doubt more experienced?”
She shrugged, a little embarrassed to have to admit it, but she did. “I was a virgin.”
“So why the hell wasn’t he being careful? Any man who cares about a woman protects her as well as himself. My brother pounded that into my head when I was about fifteen, long before I ever got around to even trying anything with a girl.” He grinned slightly. “I guess after Zane, who’s more wild than not, he wasn’t going to take any chances.”
“Your brother is older than you?”
“Yeah, by about fifteen years. My mom and dad died when I was young, so Cole pretty much raised the rest of us.”
“Oh, Mack.” Her heart swelled. She was still so close to her parents, she couldn’t imagine losing them. “I’m so sorry.”
He gave her that adorable boyish grin. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago, and Cole made certain we had everything we needed. He was a mom and dad and big brother all in one.”
Fascinated, she asked, “How many brothers do you have?”
“I’m the baby.” He grinned shamelessly at that admission. “Then there’s Zane, who’s a complete and total hedonist, but we forgive him because he’s a damn good brother too. And Chase, who’s pretty quiet, except maybe not so much now that he’s married to Allison. And then Cole. He’s married to Sophie.”
“You’re all pretty close, aren’t you?” At his nod, she said, “I was an only child. My folks are great, but I know they were a little disappointed when I got pregnant. They wanted to help out, for me to stay at home and go to college, but I really thought I loved Dave and that we’d have a good marriage.”
“Didn’t work out that way, huh?”
“No. Dave was never very responsible. Oh, he married me, but then I couldn’t go to college because we needed me to work to pay his tuition. He said his studies took up too much time for him to hold down a job. Only his grades were never very good, and then he flunked out the first semester of his third year. I hated to admit how badly I’d screwed up in marrying him, so I made excuses for him and told everyone what a great job he’d gotten. But then he lost that for missing too much work.”
