tippingthescales_GEN

by Michelle Hoppe

  Yes, right. The suit she’d spent fifteen minutes convincing him to try on. She steeled herself to appear nothing but professional, even critical, as she ran her gaze over his appearance.

  Wow. He’d been trying on clothes all morning and Libby had managed to remain relatively calm. But on the back of seeing him in the flesh, the last thing she was prepared for was how divine he looked in a suit.

  “It’s, um…perfect.” At least he was perfect in it, even given the shaggy hairstyle and the sardonic lift of his brow. The jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and tapered in to show off his narrow waist. The silk shirt was a classy touch, and not at all effeminate—at least not with Jake and all those toned muscles inside it. And the trousers… Well, they housed the rest of his assets.

  At last, she mustered a coherent sentence. “It looks very good on you. I insist we get it.”

  “Okay.”

  His easy agreement was astonishing after a morning of dogged dissent. “Really?”

  “Sure. You’re the expert.”

  “To be clear, I’m talking about the shirt too.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll even get the shirt. It’s not like I’ll be wearing it around the guys anyway.”

  No doubt there’d be plenty of girls he could show it off to instead. Libby was surprised at the ridiculous surge of jealousy. He could bed entire cheerleading squads—based on evidence he probably had—and it would be no concern of hers.

  “Well, all right then. Why don’t you take it off and I’ll have the sales clerk box it up.”

  “What—here?” Jake glanced at the saleswoman, who was momentarily distracted by another customer. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to knock over anything else.”

  “Oh, ha ha.”

  Jake shucked the suit jacket and handed it to her, then proceeded to go to work on his shirt buttons. “I know you’re interested in the goods, chickadee, but can’t you wait until we go somewhere more private?”

  “Shut up, Jake.”

  “Somewhere like this?”

  Suddenly, he grasped her wrist and tugged forward. Her body careened into his while he backed them both into the changing booth. His shoulders connected with the wall and Libby came flush up against his chest, her breath escaping with a shocked whoosh.

  She was too stunned to move at first. Then Jake’s arms were around her and she couldn’t escape—she wasn’t sure if she wanted too. All that hard flesh and those strong arms holding her close… It wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

  “Jake,” Libby whispered, dismayed to hear the catch in her voice. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking under the hood,” he murmured, his eyes on her lips.

  Before Libby could marshal any outrage, his face descended and his warm mouth captured hers. She let out a surprised whimper at the surge of pleasure that rose within. His lips were so soft, his approach so gentle. She hadn’t expected that. She would have pegged him for a forceful kisser, a man who took with a sense of entitlement and a fair amount of carelessness. But he cupped her cheek softly and brushed his mouth against hers, teasing them both until it was Libby in the end who clutched him tighter and demanded more.

  With a groan, he gave in, taking the kiss deeper, making it fuller. His hand flexed on her back, drawing her closer to him as they explored each other’s tastes—coffee and cinnamon, man and woman. It all blended in one delicious concoction that was enough to curl Libby’s toes inside her wedge sandals.

  It took far too long for Libby to come to her senses—time that Jake spent running his hands all over her back and kissing her as though she’d invited him to. Checking under the hood. His insulting comment came floating back, giving her the wherewithal to pull out of the kiss with a loud smacking of lips.

  She glared at him, trying for disdain but fearing the panted breaths she emitted might lessen the impact. “So, are all my parts in working order?”

  “I don’t know yet.” His small smile was lopsided and his voice was huskier than usual. The smoky sheen of desire in his eyes made Libby’s breath catch. “But it looks promising.”

  He began to lower his head again and Libby felt herself weaken. Perhaps one more little taste—surely she was allowed that. She was a modern, independent woman, free to kiss any man she chose. It was only a kiss. Intoxicating, thrilling and surprisingly delicious, but still only a kiss. Maybe it wouldn’t do any harm.

  His lips touched hers again, but this time, he wasn’t so placid. He urged her mouth open and swept his tongue inside to explore, a bold entry that shot heat to Libby’s erogenous zones. He cupped her butt and drew her against him. Something hard nudged her stomach, and Libby gasped into Jake’s mouth when she realized what it was. He was turned on. The knowledge of it turned her on—more—until there they both were, turned on and making out in a dressing room, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t wait until they got somewhere more private.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat put a stop to things. Libby wrenched her mouth out from under Jake’s and turned to see the sales woman glaring daggers at the both of them, the dressing room curtain clutched in her taut grip.

  The woman raised one scornful eyebrow. One little facial twitch that had shame flushing through Libby. Oh, good grief, what am I doing? Kissing Jake McCallum. Kissing him. She didn’t even like him or anything he had to say.

  Not that he’d said much while his mouth was otherwise occupied. Perhaps that’s what was so terrific about the kiss. It had stopped him from saying something offensive for five minutes.

  Libby pushed against Jake’s chest, trying to ignore how good those muscles felt beneath her hands as she stepped away from him. His shirt buttons were undone, revealing all that male hotness she’d been pressing herself against. Dear God, look at him. It’s no wonder you responded, Libby. Perfectly understandable.

  Understandable, maybe. Acceptable? Definitely not. Libby could kick herself, especially when she caught a glimpse of Jake’s expression. Cocky didn’t begin to cover it. He’d kissed her and she’d loved it, a reaction he hadn’t missed. If he’d been annoying before, now he was bound to be unbearable.

  She was going to have to put him back in his place. Firmly. Or he’d probably insist she take him for a test drive in bed.

  A shiver coursed through her. Libby ran her gaze involuntarily over Jake’s body again before forcing her eyes to meet those of the sales woman. She knew her face was flaming, but she smiled as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Explanations seemed redundant, anyway.

  Libby lifted the jacket she still held, crushed now from being sandwiched between her body and Jake’s. “We’ll take this one please.”

  Chapter 3

  Anger And Sex

  Men think women are hot when they’re angry. On an innate level, that’s probably why we enjoy needling you so much. Don’t let us get away with it. Give as good as you get. A really healthy argument can be the best kind of foreplay.

  In retrospect, Jake had to admit kissing Libby was a bad idea. Not that he’d thought it through at all before he’d done it. But there she’d been in her slinky green and white dress, the annoyance furrowing her brow making her look so damn cute, and he’d lost his head for a second.

  Libby ran up a tidy sum at the counter buying an assortment of ties and a couple of extra shirts to go with the suit—apparently Peony was footing the bill for all purchases by reimbursing Image Solutions. Then, with the saleswoman’s disapproving stare burning into their backs, they exited the store. Libby left like the place was on fire. From her staccato strides, Jake figured she’d recovered from her momentary descent into hedonism and was now berating the crap out of herself for how she’d responded to his kiss.

  Like a woman full of fire and a sense of adventure. Damn. He was still semi-hard thinking about it. Libby Allison was a firecracker underneath that cute, slightly uptight exterior. What a massive turn on that was.

  Jake followed Libby, catching up to her short strides with relative eas
e. “For the record, I don’t think whatever happened in there was entirely one-sided.”

  “You mean when you yanked me into the dressing room, pulled me against you and kissed me?” She flashed him a look from narrowed eyes. “You think I wanted you to do that?”

  Apparently, she was already over berating herself and had moved on to blaming him. Jake’s hackles stood to attention. “You did check me out while I was undressing. How do you expect a red-blooded man to respond to that?”

  “I did not check you out. It was an involuntary eye spasm or something. Bare flesh draws the gaze no matter what, like an accident on the motorway. You know it won’t be pretty, but you can’t help but look.”

  Ouch. The boost his ego had received from her enthusiastic response to his kiss deflated like a popped balloon. “You ought to know about that. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d caused a few road accidents yourself.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, you’re a sucky driver.”

  Pursing her lips, she faced forward again. Jake felt lower than the low for snapping out his completely-unrelated-to-the-subject-at-hand opinion like that, but she had likened sighting his bare chest to stumbling upon a traffic accident. It kind of pissed him off.

  “I don’t really care what you think of my driving. I just want this day to be over and I don’t—” she stopped walking and pointed a finger at his chest, “—I repeat, I do not want you to kiss me like that again.”

  “Yeah? So how is it you like to be kissed, chickadee?” Jake knew he was taunting her, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The flash of fury in her blue-gold eyes and the rapid rise and fall of her chest aroused him. The press of her index finger into his left pectoral, right over his heart, was almost as hot as a cigarette burn. Jesus, what was happening? She was royally ticked off and he still couldn’t get his blood to cool. “You only kiss after a decent meal and a ride home? You prefer a guy who waits to be invited? If so, you’ve got the wrong bloke.”

  “That’s obvious. Have you ever heard of politeness? Gentility?”

  “I’ve heard of them. I just don’t think women really want their men polite.”

  “Oh my goodness. You are such a pig.” Libby threw back her head and half laughed, half groaned. The pose drew Jake’s attention to the pale flesh of her throat, and farther down to the enticing shadow of her cleavage.

  Maybe she was right. Perhaps he was a pig.

  Since she thought he was swine anyway, Jake figured he might as well go the whole hog, so to speak. He took a step forward, into her personal space, and lifted a finger to trace a line along her jawbone. Her skin was soft, and the delicate drift of her floral-scented perfume teased his nostrils. “Face it, honey. You liked that I didn’t ask. You liked that I took what I wanted instead of pussy-footing around.”

  The crimson stain in her cheeks told Jake he was on the money, even though Libby would probably die before admitting it. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  Swallowing, she took a step back, away from him, and bumped into a rack of children’s clothes on display in front of the nearest shop. She scowled when Jake couldn’t hide his amusement. “Just don’t do it again.”

  Jake held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Whatever you want. I won’t kiss you in any more dressing rooms. I swear.”

  With a growl of frustration, Libby swung on her heel and headed off through the mall once more, all business again. “You’ll need something casual to wear as well.” Her words came out like bullets from a gun, as fast and precise as her footsteps. “Something for radio.”

  “I need to dress for radio—are you kidding?”

  Libby shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “The hosts will see you. Maybe take pictures and load them on the station’s Facebook page. It’s all good cross promotion.”

  “Let me guess, your degree is in marketing.”

  “Do I sense disapproval in your tone?”

  “Nope. Merely making an observation.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Jake thought about telling her the truth of his own background. That he’d earned a degree in strategic management and had worked as a consultant for a major firm for most of his early twenties, right up until he quit two and a half years ago at the age of twenty-seven. He knew about business and on some level did understand all the stuff she’d been reciting about image and cross promotion. He understood it, but he didn’t like it—not when applied to him. This was his life they were dealing with, not an ad campaign. He didn’t want all the hoopla surrounding the book to get out of control.

  He pulled back on offering the explanations. For one thing, he didn’t owe her any. For another, it might lead him to talk about what made him quit the high life the way he did, and he hardly wanted to talk with Libby about his dad’s illness and his fiancé’s disloyalty.

  Lastly, there was a remote chance his degree and business experience might impress Libby. He didn’t want to impress her that way. With his lips and hands, however…he wouldn’t mind making his impression on her with those. From that kiss in the change room, Jake figured they were off to a good start.

  If only she didn’t hate him quite so much.

  “Listen, Libby,” he began, injecting a conciliatory tone into his voice. “I probably owe you an apology.”

  She arched a perfectly plucked brow at him. “Probably?”

  “All right, I do. Kissing you the way I did was out of line.”

  Her strides slowed and she half turned to face him. Her expression was cautiously suspicious, her words careful. “Okay. Apology accepted.”

  “I should have waited until we’d finished shopping. I know this is technically your workplace, so that’s my bad.”

  Her jaw actually dropped, a half laugh spilling from her throat. “You are incredible.”

  “Aw, thanks, hon.” He winked. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “I didn’t mean it as a compliment. Jeez.”

  Jake stifled a chuckle. Man, she really was cute when she was steamed. “So what’s next? Casual clothes, right? I promise I’ll let you dress me, chickadee.”

  And undress me if you like. Any time you want.

  As though she read the unspoken words in his eyes, Libby’s cheeks flushed. She seemed to be holding her breath when she pointed to a nearby shopfront and spoke in slow, enunciated tones. “I’m going in there to see somebody. Wait here. Do not follow me. Do not ditch me. Just wait. Can you do that?”

  Jake shrugged. “Sure. I’m easygoing.”

  With another one of those half chuckles and a shake of her head, Libby turned and walked into what looked like some kind of salon. Making an appointment for a pedicure or something most likely. Libby looked like the type who enjoyed pedicures. Jake had noticed the purple polish on her toes. It made him wonder what it would be like to kiss each one of those toes. Was she ticklish?

  Christ. He was fantasizing about her feet now. Weird, McCallum. Very weird.

  * * * *

  Libby exited Infinity Design after giving Armarnd Derulio, one of Brisbane’s top hair design experts, a head’s up about what he was going to face tomorrow when she bought Jake in for his appointment. She looked around, not immediately spotting Jake. Had he ditched her after all? She wouldn’t put it past him. He was the most aggravating, confounding man she’d ever met.

  Who happened to also be a hell of a kisser.

  She shook the thought off because it made her lips tingle with remembered heat and her brain feel like it was going to explode with frustration. Yes, she had responded to that kiss. It had been unexpected. She hadn’t had time to erect any defenses against his skilled lips and devilish tongue. Responding had been pure instinct. She could be forgiven for that, surely?

  Maybe not. Maybe Jake’s intolerable arrogance about the whole thing was her punishment for giving in to purely physical delight. You’re not so bad yourself. Pfft.

  At last, Libby saw Jake. He was waving at her from a table at a nearby coffee ou
tlet, his grin both boyish and manly, a difficult combination to pull off. Pushing out a sigh, Libby headed over there, thinking that despite those wide shoulders, hard muscles and the shadow of stubble on his jaw, Jake McCallum was at least ninety-eight-percent boy. And the part that was man wasn’t one she was going to get acquainted with. It simply wouldn’t be smart.

  He stood when she approached and the show of manners threw her. “I’m starved and I figured you might be too, so I ordered some sandwiches.”

  Libby narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what his agenda was. “You ordered for me?”

  “You seem to be in a hurry, so I didn’t think you’d want to waste time. Toasted cheese is okay I hope?”

  Ordinarily, Libby stuck with salads for lunch, but the very mention of a hot toasted sandwich oozing with melted cheese made her stomach roar in anticipation. “You should have let me pay.” Libby took the seat opposite Jake. “It’s a business expense for me.”

  Jake rolled his eyes as he once again sat. “It’s a gesture, Libby. I was trying to do something nice. You’d better take it before my mood changes.”

  “You were trying to be nice to me?”

  “I am capable of that, you know. I’m not a complete Neanderthal.” He drew his brows down over his eyes in a pretty good imitation of early man. “Me big jerk. Me hunt food for you to seek forgiveness.”

  Libby couldn’t help it. She laughed. Immediately, she sobered, determined not to let her defenses down so readily. That seemed very, very dangerous around Jake. “Well, I am hungry. It was a nice thought.”

  “Careful. You almost relaxed there for a minute.”

  He smiled and Libby had to fight not to respond in kind. He was attractive when he was being a grouchy pain in the ass. When he was grinning and being uncharacteristically self-deprecating, he was mesmerizing. Libby made a mental note not to stare at him too long.

  “Honestly, though,” Jake went on. “I’ve been acting like a prick all morning, when all you’ve been trying to do is your job. I’m sorry, chickadee. It’s not you—it’s me.”