Sleepless in Manhattan

by Sarah Morgan

  And she’d made it awkward for him and embarrassed herself.

  Again.

  All she could do now was get through the rest of the evening as fast as possible.

  Trying to pretend it had never happened, she adopted her most professional expression and showed him the rest of the venue, introducing him to the conference manager and walking him through Urban Genie’s plan for his event.

  He listened carefully, asked a few questions, added a few ideas of his own, all of them good.

  By the time they’d finished talking, there was a crowd of people hovering close by hoping to grab a slice of his attention.

  It was always the same. Some, she knew from experience, would have tech ideas they wanted to discuss with him. Some would simply be looking for business advice, some would be hoping for investment. Some of the women would be hoping for something more personal, too, and Paige didn’t want to be around to see if he delivered on that.

  “You’re in demand, so I’ll leave you now and see you at the office tomorrow.” She managed what she hoped was a professional smile and walked to the bank of elevators.

  Her feet were telling her that her choice of shoes sucked and she was longing to change into her flats. There was some footwear that even gel inserts couldn’t rescue.

  She’d chosen them based on the height of the heel. Intimidated enough by Jake’s presence, she’d thought the extra height might give her confidence.

  All it had given her was blisters.

  Her feet, at least, were happy he’d refused to dance.

  The moment she walked through the door she was going to take a long bath. With a glass of wine and a good book maybe. Or perhaps some brain-pounding music. Something to fill her head and distract her from thoughts of Jake.

  Paige lifted her hand to press the button but a strong male hand reached past her and pressed it first.

  She’d been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t heard him come up behind her, but she’d know that hand anywhere.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving, too.” He hadn’t touched her, but his voice alone was enough to send sizzles of awareness across her skin.

  It was brutally unfair that she felt this way about a man who wasn’t interested in her.

  “You had a crowd of people wanting your attention.”

  “I’m with you.”

  If only. “This wasn’t a date, Jake.” She was pleased with how casual she sounded. “It was business. And anyway, since when did the presence of one woman prevent you from pursuing another?”

  “I’ve never cheated on a woman.” His voice was quiet and disturbingly close to her ear. “And I always make sure a woman gets home safely.”

  Her stupid heart, the one bit of her that never behaved as the textbooks said it should, skipped a beat. “You’re taking women home now? Careful, that sounds almost like commitment.”

  “Their homes, not mine.” There was a smile in his voice. “And it’s good manners, rather than commitment.”

  She wished the elevator would hurry up. “Have you ever given your address to a woman?”

  “Never, although they do occasionally show up at the office.”

  “Given that you virtually live there, they probably think that’s the best place to catch you.”

  “My team make good bodyguards.” The elevator finally arrived and he held the door while she walked past him. “My driver is waiting downstairs. He’ll give you a ride home.”

  Her feet were yelling at her to accept without argument. Her independent streak made her shake her head. “I can take the train.”

  Jake stepped into the elevator. “Yeah, but you’re not going to.” He leaned against the mirrored wall and removed his bow tie with a few flicks of his fingers. “I know you like to be independent. I understand the reason and it’s an admirable quality, but once in a while it would be good if you said yes to something without arguing.”

  There was a soft purr as the doors slid shut, enclosing them.

  “I say yes all the time.”

  There was a skeptical gleam in his eyes. “Give me an example of something you’d say yes to.”

  Right now she would have said yes to sex. Where he was concerned, she would have said yes to virtually anything. She’d promised herself she was always going to seize the moment, and right now she wanted to seize him. But she’d made a fool of herself once, and no way was she ever doing it again. “I say yes to Eva’s cooking, to drinks on our roof terrace, to movie night even though Matt never lets us watch romantic movies. I say yes to a run in the Botanical Gardens, to a bagel fresh from the cart. Want me to go on?”

  He was impossibly handsome, so gorgeous it fried her brain to look at him. Even now, half-undressed, he looked better than any other man dressed to impress up on that roof terrace.

  His bow tie hung around his neck with casual disregard for its future appearance. His shirt was open at the neck, revealing a hint of dark chest hair. His jaw, clean shaved first thing in the morning, was dark with shadow.

  He shouldn’t have looked this good, but if she’d ever seen a sexier man, she couldn’t remember it.

  He watched her with that disturbingly intimate gaze that made her wonder if he could read her mind. She was an expert at hiding her feelings. She’d learned to protect others every bit as much as they protected her, but somehow with Jake she had to work harder.

  He saw things. He paid attention.

  She was about to make a flippant comment when the elevator gave a jolt. Thrown off balance by her uncomfortably high heels she was flung against him, smacking into the hard wall of his chest. For a moment all she was aware of was the solid bulk of his biceps under her fingers and the warmth of his breath on her face. Desire uncurled inside her, a slow warmth that immediately flared to burning heat.

  His mouth was right there, right there—if she turned her head—

  His hand slid around her waist to steady her and he frowned at the control panel. “Did you press something?”

  “No.” Her teeth were gritted. It had been years since she’d been this close to him, and yet it felt as natural as if their bodies had been glued together for a decade. “I didn’t touch anything. It stopped by itself.”

  “Must have been my electric personality.”

  She pulled away from him, irritated by the depth of her attraction. Why couldn’t she feel this way about a man who was interested in her? There was no justice. “Perhaps you’d like to use your electric personality to get us out of here, then. Press the button.” As the sharp edge of her desire faded, she felt a lurch of fear. She wasn’t good with enclosed spaces. Never had been.

  It would be fine, she told herself. Probably something simple.

  The button for the ground floor was already illuminated but he pressed it again.

  There was a clicking sound.

  Nothing happened.

  Paige felt her palms grow clammy. Her chest tightened. Elevators were fine as a means of getting from one place to another, providing they were moving, but being trapped in a tight airless space? She’d always hated it. As far as she was concerned being in an MRI scanner felt like being buried alive.

  “Maybe the venue have trapped us here until we’ve paid for our event.” She tried to lighten the atmosphere but it grew heavier, as if the walls were coming in to squeeze her.

  “Maybe.” His gaze skimmed the control panel. Then he reached into his pocket and she saw a brief flash of metal.

  “Is that a screwdriver? You carry a screwdriver around with you? Why?”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to get myself out of a tight spot. Hold my jacket.” He shrugged out of it and threw it to her, then rolled back his sleeves.

  “What was your last tight spot? Was she married?”

  He smiled as he worked. “I never touch married women. Too complicated. Put your hand out—”

  “Why?”

  “Paige—” his voice was patient “—this is another one o
f those occasions when you say yes and do it. You don’t ask a million questions and you don’t argue with me.”

  She put her hand out and hoped he didn’t notice it was shaking.

  He dropped a couple of screws into her palm. “Now I can take a closer look.”

  “Look at what? What are you doing?” Whatever it was, she hoped it worked. “You’re intending to dismantle it and reprogram it? You’re going to hack into the FBI and tell them to come get us?” She wished they would. She wished anyone would. The walls seemed to close in a little more. Closing the screws in her fist, she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to breathe steadily.

  Her heart rate had picked up and she felt panic swoop down on her.

  Beads of sweat cooled her forehead. Was it her imagination or was the capsule shrinking?

  Jake straightened. “Can you—” He broke off as he saw her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. “Just get us out of here.”

  “I’m working on it.” He slid the screwdriver into his pocket. “Why do you always pretend to be all right when you’re not? Why not admit you’re scared?”

  “I’m not scared. But I’d rather not spend an entire evening in an elevator.”

  “It’s not going to plummet to the ground if that’s what’s worrying you, so don’t panic.”

  “I’m not worried and I’m certainly not panicking.” Two lies in less than ten words. That was probably a record. Paige concentrated on her breathing, the same way she’d done countless times as a child.

  Pretend you’re fine. Pretend you’re fine.

  The panic grew.

  “Do something, Jake.”

  He turned back to the control panel so she couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard him give a soft curse and slam his palm against the metal. “Doing my best, but unfortunately on this rare occasion my best isn’t good enough.” He leaned on the emergency button and moments later a disembodied voice echoed around the enclosed space asking what the problem was.

  “We’re stuck in the elevator and a rapid extraction would be appreciated.” Jake named the building and the street and glanced at Paige quickly.

  Still focused on her breathing, she gave him a look of disbelief. Rapid extraction? She mouthed the words and he shrugged and glanced up at the roof of the elevator.

  “I thought it sounded better than ‘get us the hell out of here.’” He moved closer to the intercom. “What’s your name?”

  “Channing.”

  “And where are you, Channing?”

  “Houston, Texas, sir.”

  Paige’s mouth dropped. “Houston—? How can someone a four-hour flight away be operating our elevator?”

  Jake lifted a hand to silence her. “And how’s the weather down there right now, Channing? I bet you’re sweltering in a whole lot of heat and humidity.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So are we as it happens. And I’m with a lady who is starting to find this whole experience a little uncomfortable, so I’m going to need you to do whatever it is you do when there’s an emergency and get us out of here as fast as possible. And by that I mean preferably within the next couple of minutes.” Humor was neatly layered over steely authority.

  “I’ll notify the maintenance team and the fire department. You stay right there, sir.” There was a pause. “And ma’am.”

  As if they had any number of alternative options.

  Paige leaned against the wall. Her chest ached and her heart was pounding.

  “Hand me the screws—” Jake held out his hand and she stared at him blankly, trying to focus through the panic.

  It was fine. Everything was going to be fine. Someone would get them out soon.

  Jake reached out and uncurled her tightly clenched fist.

  He stared down at the ridges and indentations made by the screws and glanced at her face. “Paige?”

  “I’m fine.” She said it like a mantra. “Totally fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  Jake pocketed the screws and pulled her into his arms. “You don’t like enclosed spaces,” he murmured. “How could I have forgotten that? It’s fine, honey. I’m here. I’m going to get you out of here soon, I promise.”

  His words and the sure confidence of his tone should have been enough to quell the rising panic, but it wasn’t.

  “How?” She gave up all pretense of being all right. “That man’s in Houston. We’re here.”

  Her breath was coming in snatches. Her chest felt tight and heavy.

  “The maintenance guys are right here in the city.” He smoothed his hand over her hair. “Relax, baby.”

  “Did you seriously just call me ‘baby’?” She pressed her palm to her chest, trying to soothe the tightness. “Normally I’d punch you for that.”

  “Normally I wouldn’t call you ‘baby.’” He eased her closer, molding her into his warmth and strength. “I’m not your brother and I’m not your parents. You don’t have to do the happy act with me. I can cope with the truth.”

  She was held snugly against him, the hard muscle of his thighs supporting her shaking limbs.

  “My heart...” She hated herself for being so weak. “I’m— It’s—”

  “It’s not your heart, Paige.” He lifted his hand and stroked her face gently with his fingers. “It’s not your heart, sweetheart.”

  She tried to breathe. “But—” She inhaled male warmth and strength and closed her eyes. “It’s—I’m—”

  “Your heart is just fine.” His voice was sure and strong. “Paige, look at me—”

  She couldn’t.

  She stared at his chest, her breathing shallow and rapid, and then felt his fingers slide under her chin as he lifted her face to his. His touch was comfort and sin all at the same time.

  “You’re panicking because you hate tight spaces. I should have remembered that. I need you to breathe slowly. That’s it.” With one hand he continued stroking her face, and with the other he held her close, so close her body blended with his. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt and the warmth of his hand soothing her spine. She should have felt secure and safe, but nothing, not even being held by Jake, could dispel the panic. It rose like floodwaters, seeping through her, out of control.

  Her lungs felt tight. There was a crushing sensation in her chest and she curled her fist into the front of Jake’s shirt, her knuckles white.

  She wanted to tell him that she couldn’t breathe but she couldn’t find the air to talk.

  Through the swirling mists of panic she heard him curse softly, and then felt his hand move from her back.

  She was about to cling to him and beg him not to let her go, when she realized he wasn’t letting her go. He was pulling her closer. He slid his hand into her hair with a slow, deliberate movement and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

  “Look at me, Paige. Look at me, honey—” His voice was firm, his eyes hooded and silver gray as he held her terrified gaze. His face was familiar and yet unfamiliar, those hard masculine lines stamped with a determination she didn’t recognize. Or maybe panic had distorted her vision as well as all her other faculties.

  She was holding her breath, her mouth a mere whisper away from his, and then his head lowered and he took her mouth in a slow, hard, deliberate kiss.

  She gave a start of shock but he held her firm, her body locked against his.

  What was he doing?

  She didn’t have the breath for kissing.

  She didn’t—

  Desire ignited, engulfing fear, and she moaned against his lips, breathed him in and tasted the essence of him as he kissed her slowly and thoroughly. Holding her head still, he explored her mouth with long, leisurely kisses that changed the source of her shivering from fear to arousal. Her mouth opened under his in complicit surrender. She’d often wondered how it would feel to be kissed by Jake, and now she knew. It was like drinking champagne too fast, like riding a roll
er coaster with your eyes closed, like diving from a high board into deep water. She swayed, dizzy, but he held her captive, anchoring her against the power of his body with strong hands. And just when she thought she’d felt everything there was to feel, the kiss changed from slow and seeking to rough and raw, from gentle seduction to pure primal sex. She’d never experienced anything like the erotic intimacy of being kissed by Jake. It was wild. Thrilling. And it awoke something inside her that had been dormant her whole life.

  Excitement exploded in a starburst, shocking her with its intensity. It was like suddenly discovering a whole new part of herself. A part of her more alive than any other.

  The jacket slithered from her fingers to the floor.

  She rose on her toes to bring herself closer to him and in doing so felt the effect she was having on him, felt the hard thickness of him through the fabric of her dress.

  Shoots of delicious pleasure spread through her, the anticipation and promise of still more to come almost unbearably exciting. She held herself still, waiting on the edge of something, and then his hands were there, on the thin, flimsy fabric of her dress, finding access points, sliding the roughness of his thumb over the straining peak of her nipple until her vision blurred. Logic told her there had to be a ceiling to the excitement, but if there was she had yet to reach it.

  He urged her back until she was sandwiched between the hard, unyielding glass of the elevator and the hard, unyielding power of his body. He murmured something against her ear, a deliciously explicit suggestion of what he wanted to do to her and exactly how he intended to do it, and she closed her hand over his shoulder, digging her fingers into the pumped-up swell of male muscle. She might have taken a moment to savor the feel of those muscles, but then he was kissing her again and she’d wanted him to kiss her for so long she wasn’t going to waste a single second of it. Then she felt him jerk her dress up to her waist and felt the warm slide of his palm on her bare thigh.