“Jarred?”
“I’m fine,” he bit out gruffly.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.” He forced the words through clenched teeth.
And then Kelsey made a fatal mistake. She pulled back just far enough to look directly into his eyes. He could feel desire swarming through his blood, affecting his senses, turning his manhood hard, increasing the tempo of his pulse. Whether she could read that in his expression, he wasn’t quite sure, but then her brows drew together in a slight frown and those lovely amber eyes glanced toward his lips. It was enough for Jarred. His hand curved around her nape and he brought her mouth to the heat of his.
The shock of his hard lips pressed to hers froze Kelsey in place. She nearly gasped in surprise, but she managed to remain still. When she didn’t resist, he deepened the kiss and Kelsey’s nerves suddenly went into overdrive. Dimly she noticed the warmth and smoothness of his skin, the hardness of tensed muscles on his back, his “Jarred” smell, which she’d once giddly described to a friend as sexy. She wanted to dig her hands into those muscles and press herself against him, wanton and a little desperate. How long had it been? How long?
When his mouth released hers, it followed a path down her throat and Kelsey couldn’t control the soft moan that squeezed past her lips. Her head lolled back, allowing more access, and Jarred took instant advantage of her. abandonment. He pulled her closer, half beneath him, and kissed her ear and neck and downward, pulling at her blouse until the buttons gave and he was suddenly sucking on her breast through the sheer ecru lace of her bra.
The heat, the feel of his marauding tongue, the sound of mouth sucking against her skin sent Kelsey trembling wildly. It was wonderful. Too wonderful! She felt like she’d withered and died and he’d brought her to life. She pulled his head back to her mouth, her wondering gaze reading the slumberous desire that burned in his eyes like a blue flame.
And then she kissed him, helplessly, deeply, desperately. He groaned. “Kelsey,” he murmered in a shaken voice. “Kelsey.”
It emboldened her. Her hands slid downward, to the band of his exercise trunks. She slipped a hand inside, down the curve of his buttocks, and it was Jarred’s turn to tremble. His own hands swept down the curve of her hip, dragging her close until there was no doubt—if there ever had been—that Jarred’s emotions were totally involved. The feel of him hard against her brought out a wantoness that Kelsey hadn’t known she possessed. She wrapped a leg over his hip, eliciting another groan, but when Jarred twisted to slide her beneath him, a sharp shudder went through him that had nothing to do with desire. He swept in a breath and froze, and Kelsey whispered somewhere near his ear, “Are you all right?”
His harsh laugh was humorless. “For the thousandth time, yes!”
“The hell you are,” she murmured, pulling back slightly to disentangle herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Her fault. She knew he was in recovery whether he did or not. She knew to tread carefully. “You’re on the mend and I’m not helping.”
“Believe me, you’re helping.”
“Helping undo all the good the surgeons managed. No,” she stated firmly, laying a finger across his lips as he attempted to kiss her again. “We’ve got time for this later.”
“No time like the present.”
She grinned, loving him at that moment more than she ever had before. The thought amazed her, burned into her consciousness, silenced her tongue.
For Jarred, watching the play of emotions cross her mobile face, it was an excruciating moment of desire at war with common sense. She was right, of course; he was a fool to try to make love to her when every jar to his leg sent him into orbit. But he wanted her, and he did not believe that they had time for this later. The time was now. Right now.
His mouth touched hers gently. Kelsey’s eyelids fluttered closed in spite of herself. His kisses were soft as whispers and she felt her bones melting at the sweet, sensual invasion.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
His hand swept over her hip, his fingers delving between her thighs, stroking her through her pants, creating a desire she couldn’t ignore. She wriggled against him, unable to stop herself. For an answer, he unbuttoned her waistband and drew down the zipper.
She wanted to rip off her own clothes. His mouth opened over hers, his tongue sliding between her lips, delving deep inside as his fingers slid farther downward, beneath the scrap of her panties, to gently gain a different entry. The sensual onslaught was too much for Kelsey, who simply whimpered and dragged her hands through his hair, deepening the kiss, demanding more.
Sliding one leg over his, she felt the sharp jolt that ran through him, pulling him up short. His breath caught. “I’m sorry,” she whispered achingly.
Jarred’s whole body was tense. Realizing this couldn’t go on, no matter how either of them felt about it, Kelsey gently drew away from him. This time he let her go. The ache in his leg had superceded the ache of lust and desire, and he could feel himself tightening up inside, shoring defenses against the tide of pain that would inevitably follow this twisting and pulling of muscle and bone.
With one last, lingering hold on her arms, he released her, allowing her to climb to her feet and try to put some semblance of order to the disarray of her hair and clothes. He watched as she ran fingers through her hair and smoothed her blouse and slacks, buttoning up the former, zipping the latter, and shooting him a sheepish look in the process.
“You’re not ready for all that,” she said with repressed humor.
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m not going to be responsible for a setback. How would I explain it to Joanna? Hmm? ‘We were just—’”
“ ‘Getting to know each other again,’” Jarred interrupted.
“More like fooling around on the couch like teenagers.”
“That’s okay, too.”
They stared at each other. Kelsey could feel the increased tempo of her pulse, a light, fast beating that had everything to do with excitement and nothing to do with anxiety or regret.
“When you get back tonight…” He left the sentence unfinished.
Kelsey hesitated, then shook her head. She turned toward the hall.
“I’ll be awake,” he told her as her footsteps sounded along the upper gallery. Before she headed downstairs, he called, “And I want to talk when you get back. More than just the daily Bryant Industries report. In depth. Okay? Kelsey?”
“Okay,” she called back, her footsteps hurrying away as if she couldn’t wait to get away from him.
With that final exertion Jarred heaved a huge sigh. Now, how the hell was he going to get back to his bed when he felt as if he’d been run over by a freight train?
The Four Seasons Olympic Hotel was where Kelsey had first met Jarred. It was also the venue for their first real date, and its restaurant was where Jarred had slipped his grandmother’s spectacular sapphire pendant necklace around Kelsey’s neck and asked her to marry him. She’d avoided the hotel like the plague since the decay of her marriage, and now it seemed somehow fitting that she should be currently walking up the set of three marble steps that led from reception to the Georgian Room itself, intending to meet Gwen, who’d chosen the site for their meeting.
The last time she’d been here was her very least fond memory. The occasion: a Bryant Industries’ Christmas party for People Who Mattered around Seattle and the entire Northwest. Kelsey arrived angry, convinced that Jarred had spent the evening before making love to his paramour Sarah Ackerman because Sarah had “innocently” asked Kelsey if she’d found her silk stockings, which had gone missing since her “business meeting” in Jarred’s room the night before. Kelsey had known about the late-night meeting and had purposely stopped by Jarred’s office that morning, hoping to get to the bottom of a lot of issues between them, but Sarah’s intervention had stolen the wind from her sails. Instead of facing him, she’d headed into the women’s room, splashed her face with cold water, then left Bryant Industries and
returned to the house, where she’d brooded over the disintegration of her marriage and her paralyzed inability to do anything about it.
And in that miserable state, she’d rerun what she knew about Sarah’s visit to the house the night before. She’d known Sarah was in Jarred’s suite; she’d heard them together. And since Kelsey was living in the guest suite at the time—a move she’d made as a means to gather her own wits and soothe her trampled, beaten heart—the meeting had taken place without her having any reason to really complain about its venue.
When Sarah stayed on and on, Kelsey buried her head under her pillow to block out the sounds of their shared laughter and animated conversation. She told herself she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Jarred could spend every moment with that Amazonian, soulless slut for all she cared. He was the one who would eventually pay the price.
But then, that morning, when Sarah slyly asked about her silk stockings, waving her hand and informing Kelsey that the only reason she cared was that they were soincredibly expensive, Kelsey’s temper ignited. It hadn’t mattered to Sarah whether Kelsey got them back to her in time for the party that evening; she’d just wanted to make a point, but she pretended that she needed them as a means to turn the knife. Would Kelsey mind looking for them?
She discovered the stockings beneath Jarred’s bed. Pulling them out, Kelsey sat down hard on the mattress, holding the silken scraps in her hands. She knew it wasn’t beyond Sarah to plant them there. The woman was capable of anything. And she also knew that confronting Jarred would only get her a terse “Nothing happened,” even when it was clear something had to be going on or the stockings would have stayed on Sarah’s long legs where they belonged.
It pleased her to no end that the sheer black stockings were covered with Mr. Dog’s tawny fur.
She’d stuffed the offending garments in her handbag. Then she had stared at all the gowns in her closet in vain hopes of finding the perfect one for the party. Eventually, she settled on a plain black above-the-knee dress and an equally plain pair of black pumps. Combing her hair, she let it fall in restless auburn waves to her shoulders, her amber eyes staring back at her in the mirror, wide and mistrustful. When her bottom lip trembled, she bit down hard. She was not going to feel sorry for herself.
At the last minute she grabbed the sapphire pendant and clasped it around her neck. It glittered in the hollow of her throat, looking exceptionally pretty against her pale skin above the heart-shaped neckline of her dress.
She’d been too upset to realize how dramatic she looked. It was Jarred who complimented her, but she was in such a state by that time that she hadn’t been able to listen. She hadn’t cared anyway. Her marriage was over. She’d accepted the truth with the discovery of the stockings.
Walking across the lobby that night, Kelsey had found herself lost in memories. She’d closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of merriment from up above. The Bryant Industries Christmas party was on the mezzanine level in a private room. Kelsey mounted the stairs like a prisoner heading for the gallows. Entering through the opened paneled doors of the reception room, she was suddenly thrust into a room of around one hundred people, all dressed in semiformal cocktail attire, jewels, and perfume. A string quartet played softly, and muted laughter and the clink of glassware met her ears.
Though it was a trick of her imagination, she had the terrible impression that all conversation hushed as soon as she crossed the threshold. Gulping back her misgivings, Kelsey went in search of her husband.
It was Will who approached her first. Not exactly a knight in shining armor, he greeted her uncomfortably. “Hello there, Kelsey. We thought you weren’t going to show.”
“Am I late?”
“Well, a little. Jarred was asking if you were here yet.”
“Oh, I’m here. You can tell him.”
Will half laughed, not understanding her strange mood in the least. “Okay. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Champagne would be great.”
“Sarah said you stopped by the office today.”
“Yes, I did.”
Will was nonpulssed. Kelsey wasn’t normally so taciturn in her answers. He clearly wondered what the heck was going on inside her head, but he couldn’t seem to find the words to ask her.
“Did you see Jarred?”
“Nope. But I’d certainly like to see him now.”
“Okay. He’s around. I’m sure he’ll spot you soon.”
“That would be just great.”
He led her toward a table draped with a white tablecloth and stacked with glass champagne flutes. A clear, cold December night lay outside the bank of windows above the street. Kelsey stepped close, gazing down to the street, where traffic sped by and crystal lights twinkled in trees like starlight. Calling over the bartender, Will stepped back and told her, “I’ll get Jarred.”
“Whenever he can break away,” Kelsey said with a tight smile.
The bartender poured her a glass of champagne. She gulped her first drink, bringing tears to her own eyes, or was that the effect of Jarred’s cheating?
To Kelsey’s consternation, it was Sarah who noticed her next. Turning sharply toward Kelsey, she strode forward like a general on the march. Kelsey downed the rest of her glass and turned to the sympathetic bartender, who, with a look of understanding, refilled her glass automatically.
“Hello,” Sarah said, her gaze centering on the pendant at Kelsey’s throat. “Have you heard about your boss’s decision to knock down those warehouses along the waterfront and build office buildings? The city gave him a thumb’s down, of course. Thank God.”
“Yes.” Though Kelsey essentially agreed with Sarah, she didn’t feel like badmouthing Trevor. “There are a lot of different styles of architecture,” she pointed out.
She knew she was viewed as a turncoat amid this group. Half the time she felt like one. But she couldn’t bend even the tiniest bit around Sarah Ackerman and expect any kind of positive payback. The woman was a snake, through and through, and with a third glass of champagne in her hand, Kelsey debated telling her so.
But Sarah was going on about Trevor Taggart versus Bryant Industries, breathlessly peppering the conversation with Jarred’s name. Kelsey wasn’t good at being jealous, but brother, she could feel its green poison infecting her as she stood and listened to this woman who wanted to steal her husband away more than anything else in this world.
“Oh, I brought you your socks,” she said, breaking into Sarah’s diatribe.
“What?” Sarah blinked at Kelsey.
“I brought you your socks. Your stockings,” she clarified. “They’re in my purse. Do you want them now?”
“Ahhh…” Sarah actually managed to look embarrassed. Rubbing her nose, she glanced around for help, but the only person who noticed was Gwen. Gwen smiled. Then a line drew between her brows as she tried to read Sarah’s expression. “No. I’ll get them later,” Sarah murmured, turning away.
“Good riddance,” Kelsey said beneath her breath to no one in particular, and it was at that moment that Jarred pulled away from a group near the front of the room and headed toward her with ground-devouring strides that shattered her resolve with each closing step.
He was devastatingly handsome, she noticed in a distant corner of her mind. In a black tuxedo and crisp white shirt, he looked as if he were about to film a perfume commercial or climb atop a wedding cake or extend his arm and pull her onto the dance floor, Fred Astaire to her Ginger Rogers.
Not a chance.
“What took you so long to get here?” he demanded.
“I didn’t realize I was late. I came to your office to find you today, but you weren’t there.”
His gaze also centered on the pendant and the annoyance in his eyes gave way to an unusual tenderness. Kelsey immediately glanced away, dragging air into lungs, which suddenly felt too small, tight, and constricted.
“Why were you looking for me?”
“I wanted to talk to you about… somethi
ng,” she said.
“Okay.” He glanced up and shot a smile at one of the managers from another division, who was dragging his wife onto the dance floor against her objections. The wife’s dress was the culprit: a straight sheath that left little room to move from hip to ankle. She managed to tiptoe around the floor while her husband gyrated in a manner that brought a wider smile to Jarred’s lips.
When Kelsey didn’t respond, Jarred returned his gaze to her trouble face. Without another word, he pulled her through the crowd, onto the mezzanine, and into a smaller room, empty save for several chairs stacked at the end of the room. “What?” he asked her straight out, his earlier humor completely vanished.
“I wanted to talk to you about Sarah,” Kelsey said, lifting her chin. If this were to be the moment of their marriage’s dissolution, so be it. She was tired of pussyfooting around. “I’m tired of this situation we’ve got.”
“What situation?”
“Don’t play dense, Jarred. She was in your room last night till way after midnight. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t know what’s going on. I’m tired of pretending period.”
“I’m not interested in Sarah. She’s an employee. We talk business.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kelsey waved a dismissive hand.
To her shock Jarred grabbed her upper arm. “I’m tired of this, too,’ he stated shortly. “I’m tired of my wife playing some game with me.”
“What do you mean?” Kelsey glared at him.
“You moved into the other bedroom.”
“Yes.”
“Either move back or move out.”
His ultimatum stunned her. It was so unexpected, yet so like him when she thought about it. And it hurt! Like a slap to her face. “I’d have to share you with Sarah.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” His answer was hard as granite.
“Then tell me why her silk stockings were under your bed. Can you explain that one? She asked for them, and I found them.”
Not Without You Page 13
