by Crowe, Liz
“So,” he said, as he leaned back again. “Looks like we’re stuck with this deal, huh?”
“What?”
“Well, your cheapskate buyer sprung for a fairly expensive inspection. I assume that means we are on, and will have to play this little game for a week or so but will ultimately consummate.”
He could sense her blush through the phone.
“Yeah, he’s a real pain, but sounds like you’ve got a similar issue on your end, eh Jack?”
“You know I do,” Jack rolled his chair so he could kick the door shut. He reached over and flipped his iPod speakers on. He wanted a bit of privacy and in his frigging fishbowl of an office, he had to work to get it.
“So, I saw you running yesterday.” Jack’s let his tone shift into a deeper register.
“Oh, really, where?”
“Over by Pioneer,” indicating the west side high school she’d attended. “You swing your arms too much you know.”
“Thanks for the tip, coach.”
“You look good though, generally,” Jack smiled into his phone as the strains of the Rolling Stones permeated his office. “But you probably know that.
“Thanks, I think,” she tried to sound nonchalant, too busy to bother with him.
Jack knew better. He knew it was time to reel this one in. Best to hang up and not chat anymore or he’d be tempted to actually ask her out, something he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to do yet. Compelled to act, yet inclined to hold back at the same time.
“Well, I gotta run babe. I guess you’ve given me my marching orders. I just got your email.” Jack would have gladly talked to her for the next couple of hours, but knew he couldn’t sound too eager.
“All right, good luck with your seller. I’m sure you can convince her of anything though, huh?” He winced.
“Not anymore,” Jack rolled his eyes as he remembered how incredible she’d been, until she lost her mind and started telling everybody they were getting married. Married? Holy fucking shit — he’d almost had a heart attack when that had gotten back to him in the form of a congratulations email from Greg Stewart, owner of his brokerage. He sincerely hoped Sara would turn out to be more reasonable. Marriage did not appear on his to-do list, not now, and not anytime soon. The sound of Sara’s laughter at that moment made him sit up.
“Well, do your best. Or at least half as good as you think you are. That oughta cover it.”
Jack grinned. He’d done his homework. Found a couple of younger agents in his office who had gotten up close and personal with her, so he’d been able pick their brains. Their consensus had been she knew how to have fun, been easy to talk to, able to chat, flirt and generally enjoy herself. She’d send messages with her body language, according to these guys, but they had both struck out, royally.
She’d kiss — very well, they both observed — touch, act like she’d be ready for third base or whatever, then completely shut down as if a switch got flipped to the off position. Neither man could move past anything but a quick grope in the car or in the front hall of her condo. Jack didn’t think these were guys who gave up that easily. She’d not gone out with either of them after the first date and he found himself even more intrigued by her once he’d gotten this information.
He loved women — all types of women. Loved their company, their scent, the feel of their skin under his hands, and most of all he loved how he could make them feel. He prided himself on it. The potential of Sara Thornton moaning and begging for him got him revved up like nothing had in a long time. He’d become determined to be the one to release her from her apparent cycle of sexual frustration.
His body responded every time he pondered the concept of that little project. That tool, Donovan, had indeed burned her a year ago. She’d withdrawn into herself, and he’d gotten busy and preoccupied. Until now. Now, she invaded his dreams awake and asleep; something in her brought it out and while it titillated, it also distracted, made him short tempered and antsy.
He remembered smiling wickedly at his computer as he glanced over her buyer’s original offer. It had been a shitty start, meaning her buyers would be difficult, meaning their potential time together would be extended, and he could not only save the day by convincing his seller to sell to her, but could take his time fixing what ailed her. And fixing she needed. That much was clear. Whether or not she’d like his methods remained to be seen.
Of course, he’d had to concentrate on keeping the listing after he’d lost control of the blonde psycho seller. He’d had to duck a flying crystal vase at one point, but he had quick reflexes so that worked out fine — the ultimate goal had been achieved.
Jack knew timing was everything. You had to be in the right place at the right time, on purpose, to succeed in his business. The fact that Blondie had gone loco on him just about the time he realized that Sara had gotten royally screwed by that broker tool had been exactly that — timing. Sara needed something she wasn’t going to get with her endless routine of exercise and work. The fact that he had developed a minor obsession with her didn’t escape his self-knowledge, but he chalked it up to lust and his usual desire to obtain the seemingly unobtainable.
Jack had lost count of the women he’d “loved.” Frankly, he loved every woman he was with, while he was with them. He loved learning how to press their buttons, what made them tick, how to make them happy, or at least content, under his talented hands. But ever since law school, the one time he’d let himself really love, really opened up to a woman who’d dumped him without ceremony the very week they were graduating, he’d closed himself off to anything beyond physical satisfaction. When he sensed any emotional connection seeping in, even from him, he’d cut off the relationship, leaving many an unhappy lady behind.
He closed his laptop and headed out the door to his next appointment, feeling at the top of his game, but with a small, annoying tickle in the back of his brain whispering Sara’s name. Brushing a hand over his rough jaw, he pondered his options. He felt certain of one thing: it was time to act. He tamped down the urge to just take the direct route, scoop her up and take her to his house for a nice long weekend of bonding. No, she needed to realize what she wanted first.
CHAPTER FOUR
Still sitting at her desk on a Friday night, Sara had never felt so exhausted. She’d spent the past two weeks focused on nothing but the damn deal with Jack. He’d taken the opportunity to get all friendly with her and they’d had some long chats. He loved to text message her with thinly veiled messages about hooking up, but he never managed to ask her out on an actual date. The annoyance crossed with irritation was a buzz.
It had been an abnormally hot June. The office, full of people all day, had finally emptied out. Sara had changed into comfortable clothes. She had a solid hour or more of work before heading home. She’d just pulled her hair up into a ponytail and focused on her computer — when her phone buzzed.
“Hey, Sara, I’m driving by your office right now.” The sound of Jack’s deep, raspy voice touched off something in her, as it did every time. Her brain slowly processed that he proposed a face-to-face encounter. Like now.
“Are you there? As if I didn’t know?” he laughed. “I have a document for your buyer and I thought I’d just drop it off and save us some time.”
Shit.
She glanced down at herself. Sara loved spending her hard-earned money on great clothes, but didn’t have any of them with her tonight. She ran into the office bathroom, yanked out the ponytail holder in her hair, and tried to remember if she had lipstick in her purse.
“Sure!” she claimed brightly. “I’ll meet you at the door.”
She used the toothbrush she kept in the office bathroom closet, and splashed water on her flushed face. Anger at the fact she felt nearly frozen in place by the idea of Jack Gordon — that he planned to simply “stop by” after hours to see her made her dizzy. In spite of her resolve to be strong, something yearned for him, in a way that utterly terrified her.
Yeah, well fu
ck that. Of course he’s interested in you.
She pep talked herself all the way to the front doors — a wide expanse of glass facing Ann Arbor’s main street. She heard the roar of his engine before she saw the car. Sara rolled her eyes. A Stingray. What else?
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself against the coming onslaught. She had work to do and would not be distracted by this — she couldn’t afford to be. But her body began to betray her; her panties already damp at the thought of him in her personal space. It was a familiar feeling. She’d been having wet dreams about him for the better part of a year. She sighed, determined that he’d likely never measure up to her fantasies, but realized her hands shook as she reached for the door handle.
Yeah, OK, girl, settle down. This is Jack Gordon, every woman’s dream date. But he’s only here with paperwork.
She shook her head, looked up and there he was — all six foot, four inch, dark hair, blue eyes, sexy white smile, of him. Resisting the sudden compulsion to look away, to not meet his eyes, she smiled back.
“Hey gorgeous,” he began as he always did on the phone, his voice a low growl that matched his car engine’s rumble. “I’ve got something for ya.”
“Ha, I’ll just bet you do,” she threw back. Lame, she thought as she took in the sight of him in his dark blue suit trousers, striped dress shirt with French cuffs emphasizing what had to be an incredible torso, arms and chest. Jack boasted a classic male shape — wide shoulders tapering to a slim waist and long legs — and he wore a suit better than anyone Sara had ever seen. His red and yellow tie, which stopped just short of being loud, flung over his shoulder from the ride. He smelled great too, some combination of spice, cigar and leather.
Damn. I’m screwed.
“No, really. My asshole seller agrees to your asshole buyer’s requests post inspection; I’ve got it all signed up here. Now all we lack is a good appraisal, and we are golden my lovely!”
“You call all the girl agents that, I’m sure.” She sighed and reached for the paper he held out, grazing his hand in the process.
His skin was warm. No, not warm, hot, as if he’d been near a fire. She shivered; unable to help it. The tingling in her scalp crawled down her spine and settled nicely between her legs.
She drew back. He moved forward to fill the empty space between them. Their silhouettes darkened the entry foyer. He remained shy of touching her — keeping just out of reach.
“You know, I was looking for an excuse to see you in person,” he began. “I’m really gonna miss our little evening chats once this deal is done.”
“Yeah, well, you know where I live.” Sara waved in the general direction of the office as her breath caught in her throat. “I, um, gotta do some, you know, busy work tonight so… “
Don’t go…don’t go… don’t go…. Sara tried not to let her face betray her inner begging.
“So do I really — but I just can’t help thinking that we could come up with something a bit, I don’t know… more fun to do together,” his voice tempted
“Um, yeah, I guess, we could go out, if you want, but I’m not really dressed for it.” Sara’s brain fogged over. Was he asking her out on date? Before she could respond, react or even move, his lips covered hers.
Her mind immediately grasped the fact that the entire downtown of Ann Arbor could see them sucking face in the vestibule of her office. Her manager would really not be pleased.
Oh dear Lord.
As he became more insistent, Sara responded, her psyche screaming with happy release. His lips were softer than she would have thought, but became increasingly more demanding that she share, open her mouth to him. She gave in, parted her lips, and placed her hands on his firm chest, and her last bit of resistance swirling down the drain.
He licked her lips, nipped at her bottom one, and then swept inside, possessing her with his tongue. She gave way, fully aware that this guy, wanted by so many, held her, right there, and had reached under her hair to tug her closer. Sara had not fully acknowledged her level of own horniness until that moment — when the man who represented everything so wrong for her, prepared to blow apart her world with the touch of his hands and mouth.
Jack had kept his body slightly separate from hers during their initial contact, as if he might be gauging how she would respond before committing himself. Once she opened her lips and took his tongue into her mouth, he moved closer, grasped the back of her head with one hand, his fingers twisting and threading through her hair.
Any hesitation he’d shown disappeared completely as he moved his mouth off hers. His other hand traveled the length of her back and reached up again to cup her head. He flitted over her ass, teased, seemingly determined to draw it out until she asked for more. Her traitorous arms wrapped around his neck, as she rose up on her tiptoes.
Oh my God don’t do this Sara. Just. Don’t.
But the compulsion that had built over the past year commanded her, and she molded her body to his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A loud knock on the glass made her jump away and run her hand through her hair as the college kid on the other side laughed and mimed a blowjob, until his buddies drew him away.
She glanced up at Jack, saw that his skin flush, but with anger or passion, she wasn’t sure. He smirked as he watched the guys’ retreat into the soft Michigan summer night then turned to face her. His face remained inscrutable but when he turned that sapphire gaze back to her, she had to reach back and grab the wall or risk doing something truly alarming, like fling herself at him.
Where in the hell had that come from?
She shook her head, took a step back. Before she could speak, he was in her space again, running a finger down her face, Gentle, but without a doubt, in complete control.
“Sorry Sara, I just couldn’t help myself.” His rough voice made her skin pebble. “Let’s lock up here, you grab your stuff. We’ll go somewhere for a drink.”
He followed her inside the second set of doors, close enough so she could smell him — a new combination of soapy manliness, expensive cologne and lust. Her chest constricted. She had no business there, with him, reacting like that. Danger signals flashed in her vision. He reached up and flipped off the lights as she rounded the corner of the front desk on her way back to her office. She turned around to tell him not to bother with them, they kept that set on, and ran straight into his neck. He pulled her to him and muttered into her ear as she struggled to disentangle herself.
“Shh…wait. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” His hands moved from her head, to her neck, down her back and cupped her ass. She reached up to grasp his head and force his mouth back down to hers, making a near animal sound in her throat as their tongues collided. She twined her hands in his hair, felt her nipples harden, begging for his touch. Primal need rose in her, nearly painful, making her squirm and clutch him tighter.
His hand moved from her ass up to her shirt, reaching up under the simple tank top she had on to her bra. Wishing she still had on her lacy one, all that was lost in a haze of lust when he brushed his fingers against the fabric.
“Mmm, somebody is happy to see me,” he whispered into her ear, causing a sudden nearly violent wetness in her shorts. She jerked away, leaving about a foot between them.
“What, baby?” He took a step back, passed a hand over his mouth. “Did I hurt you?”
Sara stared at what she could see of him, now that her eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the front office, and rubbed her arm nervously. Patently insane — all of it. They were in her office for Christ’s sake. She’d heard he liked to fuck around in public, but she didn’t want to be another conquest. Her usually repressed nature struggled with her body’s compulsion to have his hands on her, his mouth on hers, before she exploded. “Ah, no.” Her voice wobbled, sounded thin to her own ears.
She turned away from him, hoping to marshal her strength and tell him to leave. As she made her way down the office hallway she knew by heart even in the darkness, she could smell
him on her and knew at that moment, without a doubt, she would fuck him, right then in the office.
They had been building towards it for too long. Her brain knew to keep quiet — it would not be heard over her body’s clamor. Her baser need for him took over, and when he put a hand on her shirt and firmly tugged her back to him, she let him, shutting her eyes and praying she wasn’t making a huge mistake.
She started to turn but he grabbed her from behind.
“Don’t turn around,” he whispered. “Let me show you what happens next. Just leave it all to me.”
She relented and leaned back into his body. His lips claimed her neck. His hands rubbed both nipples at once. She bent her knees and moaned, raised her arms and put them behind her, around his head. He managed at some point to lose his expensive cufflinks and roll up his sleeves exposing tanned, strong forearms. He released each breast from their cup; caressed, rubbed, and pinched the aching hard nubs of sensitive flesh. His lips and teeth remained on her damp skin.
She began to move, rubbing against the heat of his erection pressed against her back. He groaned, and increased attention to her nipples, continued to use his lips to caress the back of her neck. A small fire burned wherever he touched her. She imagined she could come against the seam of her jeans, the pressure of his straining zipper against her, both of his hands on her nipples and his mouth in her ear and on her neck.
“Mmm… I have been dreaming of doing this to you for weeks.” The words caused every nerve in her body to tingle. She closed her eyes.
He turned her around to face him, his hands on her upper arms. Before she could whimper about her poor lonely nipples he crushed his mouth on hers, pushing her up against the wall. Her left leg lifted and encircled his waist as her engorged clit begged for contact.
