by Jo Leigh
“What?”
“Your life.”
He laughed. “From conception or birth?”
“Birth is fine.
He laughed again, his rich baritone making her shiver inside. “I don’t think we’ll have time for my whole life.”
“Okay, then. Tell me the important things. The things that shaped you.”
His smile slackened as his gaze intensified. “You surprise me.”
“I do?”
“Don’t worry. That’s a plus.”
She didn’t want to talk about herself. There wasn’t much to say, after all. At least, nothing he would find interesting. But if she could get him talking, she could forget about herself. She might not be able to put two words together without blushing, but she wasn’t afraid to ask questions. “Please?”
He leaned back in the wooden chair, clearly debating whether he would oblige. If he didn’t, well, then, she’d deal with it, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Most people loved to talk about themselves. She’d used the deflection technique for years, and it never failed her. Once her companions started talking, she could relax. Not only did she feel more comfortable, but she learned a lot, too. It amazed her how people would go on if they weren’t interrupted.
“All right. You asked for it.”
She smiled, more relieved than she cared to think about.
“The important things,” he said, mostly to himself. He’d taken a butter knife from his setting, and idly turned it over and over as his focus shifted to his past. “My mother died when I was eleven.”
“How awful for you,” she said, meaning it. She knew something about losing a parent.
He shrugged. “Yeah. It was. I liked her. She was pretty. Tall and slender, like you. People used to say she was a dead ringer for a young Lauren Bacall.”
He glanced up at her, and she silently encouraged him to continue.
“I was raised in Ithaca along with my two brothers. My father wasn’t around much. We had nannies.”
“Plural?”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah.”
“Three boys without a mother? You must have been a handful.”
“I was.”
“Only you?”
He nodded. “Typical black sheep. You know, smoking, ditching school, firecrackers in the girls’ locker room.”
“I’d like to say I can’t picture it, but…”
“Just another rebel, like all the other rebels before me.”
“Are you still?”
He nodded. “I suppose so.”
“In what way?”
He studied the knife. “I, uh, had a pretty difficult time in school.”
“How?”
His expression changed to one she could only call wry. Maybe a little bitter. “I had trouble paying attention.”
“ADD?”
“Nope. Boredom.”
“Really?”
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I skipped a few grades. Went into a special school. Didn’t make friends easily.”
She’d known someone with a very similar past. “How high is your IQ?”
His eyes widened in surprise.
She must have hit the nail on the head. “Come on. ’Fess up. I won’t make fun of you.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“Jay…”
He sighed again. “Around one-ninety.”
“Wow.”
“Not all it’s cracked up to be, I assure you.”
“Did you excel at everything? Or did you specialize?”
His gaze narrowed. “I was about ten miles off about you, wasn’t I? You aren’t in the least bit shy.”
“Oh, but I am.”
“I was kidding. What I didn’t know about was this—”
“What?”
“Determination? Curiosity? I don’t know what to call it, except unexpected.”
Her cheeks heated. “Okay, back to you.”
“Relentless.” He gave her half a grin. “I like that in a woman.”
“Okay, so you can make me blush. Don’t pat yourself on the back too hard. Mr. Yamahara at my local grocery makes me blush, and he can’t speak English.”
“Point taken.”
The waiter came with the drinks and food. For the next few minutes, they concentrated on the appetizers. She decided she was crazy about the restaurant, but her focus returned to Jay. He even ate sexy. His jaw muscle flexed with each bite, which wasn’t nearly as distracting as the way his lips glistened with a touch of oil from the pot sticker dipping sauce. She wanted to lick it off him, right here, in the middle of the café.
“Now, that’s something,” he said.
“What?” she asked, jerking her gaze from his mouth.
“You just blushed again. And I haven’t said a word.”
She touched her cheeks with her fingertips. “Maybe I’m allergic to something in the food.”
“Or maybe you were having blush-worthy thoughts.”
She grabbed her soda and tried to hide behind the straw.
“I saw you looking at my mouth.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Amelia. I’m surprised at you.”
“Okay, I was. It wasn’t a big deal.”
He leaned in again, and her body went on full alert. How he did that to her was a mystery. It was like an electrical field had been breached, the very air changing its chemical components. “I think when it’s my turn to ask the questions, we’ll find out exactly how big a deal it was.”
She cleared her throat, knowing she was adding fuel to the flame by blushing right down to her toes. There was only one solution. “But it’s not your turn. It’s my turn, and you haven’t answered my question.”
“Which was?”
“Were you a prodigy?”
He stared at her for a moment, no expression on his face, his gaze a bit glassy, and then he was back. “Yeah, I was.”
“Math?”
He nodded. “It started out that way. Then I got interested in writing.”
“That’s unusual.”
“I suppose.”
“Poetry? Or prose?”
“Both.”
“What about music?”
“What about it?”
It was her turn to lean in. “Come on, Jay. You know math and music are connected. And that most prodigies tend to be great in both.”
“Are you a teacher?”
“No. But I know something about the subject.”
“How?”
“I had a friend who was like you. She died when she was seventeen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. She was wonderful.”
He looked away for a few seconds, and when he looked back his demeanor had shifted again. He was like a chameleon, changing his colors with his mood. “Do you want to order?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “But you go ahead.”
“I’m not hungry anymore. Besides…”
Amelia’s chest tightened, although she couldn’t say why. His tone, the wicked gleam in his eye, perhaps. “What?”
“I owe you a ride on my Harley.”
In the blink of an eye, the easy confidence that had marked their conversation disappeared. She didn’t want to go, and she wanted desperately to go.
“Come on,” he whispered. “We know each other now.”
“No, we don’t. I know some things about you. That’s not knowing you.”
“Okay, then, ask me.”
“Will you tell me the truth?”
He nodded, crossed his heart with his index finger. “Shoot.”
Amelia held her breath as a dozen questions popped into her head. But there could really be only one. “What will you do with me,” she asked, “at the end of the ride?”
5
JAY WASN’T PREPARED for her question. Especially after the surprising nature of their conversation. He’d thought he had her pegged.
He knew a lot about women, and while they occasionally veered left when he figured they’d veer right, Amelia had hung a U-turn.
He’d assumed he’d be the one asking the questions. Drawing her out. Wrong on both counts. Her intuition was just this side of scary, and the way she looked at him while he talked—it reminded him of how he focused on a particularly complex physics equation. Not that he’d done that in awhile, but that intensity wasn’t something easily forgotten.
It didn’t change anything, really. He would stick to the program, play it out till the end. It would just be a hell of a lot more interesting.
“Do you even know?” she asked.
He nodded. “Let’s just say I know what I’d like to do with you.”
“What would that be?”
Was she flirting? Egging him on? Totally naive? He honestly didn’t know. It was a unique situation, with a unique person. Her writing had clued him in to her intelligence, but he hadn’t seen the whole picture. The only thing that did make more sense now was the nature of her fantasies. All that passion had to be channeled somewhere. With luck, it would be aimed his way. What the hell.
“I’d like to make love with you.”
She disarmed him completely with a look of innocent shock. When had he ever been with a woman like her? He had to be careful not to push too hard. He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “But I know it’s too soon for that.”
“No, that’s not the issue.”
Could have fooled him. She’d turned white, her eyes had grown huge, and her fingers had gone to the top button of her blouse. “What is the issue?”
“You’re very good-looking.”
He choked back a bark of laughter. “Thanks.”
“I mean it. You’re gorgeous, and you know it. So does every woman you meet. So why me?”
“I know it? What do you mean, I know it?”
Her shoulders relaxed a bit as her color returned. “I thought we were talking about me now.”
“Right. Sorry. I’ll get back to you in a second, okay?” He turned before she could respond, and stopped their waiter. “Scotch, neat.”
“And for the lady?”
“Another soda, please.”
He nodded, then headed for the kitchen. Jay cleared his throat and turned back to Amelia. She looked like a kindergarten teacher in her white starched blouse, her sweater concealing anything of interest above or below her waist. Her skirt touched the bottom of her kneecaps, and while he hadn’t paid much attention to her shoes, they sure as hell weren’t stilettos. Yeah, her face was pretty. More than that—she had an ethereal quality that mesmerized him. But even that wasn’t the reason he wanted her as he did.
It all boiled down to the dichotomy. That prim and proper exterior hiding a wildness no one would ever imagine. And he’d seen it. He hadn’t been kidding about the fate thing. Why else would the opportunity have presented itself?
He leaned toward her again and didn’t speak until he’d captured her gaze. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not being flippant. It’s got me confused, too.”
Her lips curved into a delicious pout.
“Hear me out.” He touched her wrist with his fingertips and rubbed the soft skin. “I see something in you. Something that I have in myself, I guess. Something you try like hell to hide.”
She pulled back, turned her head, but he wasn’t going for it. Gently, he guided her chin around until their eyes met.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice tight, frightened.
“Yes, you do. I know you do. I see it in your eyes. I feel it when I touch you. There’s a passion inside you that’s going to eat you alive if you don’t do something about it. It’s been dormant too long, and I don’t think you can take much more. Why should you? You’re a sensual woman. No matter how many sweaters you put on, you can’t hide that.”
She let out a long, slow breath. “So, what you’re saying is, I’m your good deed for the week? Give the repressed girl a thrill?”
He shook his head. “No. Not at all. I’ve been watching you just as long as you’ve been watching me. Tell me you don’t feel this heat between us and I’ll walk out the door and never bother you again.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
He held back a smile. “I don’t know what’s going to happen between us,” he said. “But I’d like to find out.”
Her gaze broke from his. “I’m not the kind of woman you’re used to dating.”
“How do you know?”
The look she gave him was enough to shut him up. “I’m different,” she said. “I know that. I’m not hip, if you even call it that, I don’t like crowds, I’m—” she cleared her throat “—not very good at this.”
“I don’t agree. You’re very good. Because you’re telling the truth. I’m not out to hurt you, Amelia. Or scare you. I’m following my instincts. There’s something to this, I know there is.”
“What does that mean? What do you want?”
“I want to spend time with you.”
“In the bedroom?”
He nodded. “Eventually. But for now, I just want to talk. To listen.”
“I don’t know…”
“I do. Let’s just give it a chance, okay? A week. If you still feel this way next week, then fine. I’ll never darken your door again.”
She studied him carefully, her green eyes filled with equal parts fear and intelligence. “All right,” she said finally. “We’ll try it for a week.”
He smiled. Big time. “This is gonna be a hell of an adventure, Amelia.”
She shook her head. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Promise?” she asked in a young girl’s voice.
“I promise.” Then he stood, pulling her up with him. Right into his arms. He kissed her cheeks, her nose. Her lips.
And he knew, right then, that he was in trouble. Serious trouble.
AMELIA SAT ON THE EDGE of her bed, her gaze unfocused, thinking about her lunch with Jay. It felt more like a dream than anything else. Men like Jay didn’t happen to women like her.
Could he possibly be for real? Oh, she hoped so. Wouldn’t that be something? Especially now that she knew so much more about him. His intelligence didn’t surprise her, somehow, and she wondered if that had anything to do with Mary, her tragic friend who’d died so young. Mary had been a quirky girl, who had a great deal of trouble adjusting to the world. She grew bored so easily, her mind flitting from one topic to the next. Sometimes it had been hard to keep up with her. But when she did slow down and direct her formidable concentration toward one thing, it had the same kind of intensity that she felt from Jay.
Amelia wasn’t nearly bright enough for him. She doubted many would be. And, unlike Mary, Jay’s persona was strong, confident and incredibly sexual.
She took off her sweater and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Okay, yes. She did dress like someone’s maiden aunt—but what was she supposed to do about that? Clothes cost money, and she barely had enough to make ends meet. She wondered, if money weren’t an issue, would she find some other excuse? He was right. She did hide in her baggy skirts and sweaters. It had always been comfortable. Until now.
For the first time in years, she wanted to be a part of, instead of apart from. She wanted to be pretty, sophisticated, brave. Which, unless there was a fairy godmother somewhere in her future, wasn’t going to happen.
Jay’s interest in her did give her pause, however. He saw something in her that she didn’t see. Something attractive, or else he wouldn’t want to make love with her.
She stepped out of her skirt, took off her blouse and bra, and slipped into her sleep shirt. It was only eight-thirty, but she wanted the privacy of her bed. None of the roommates was here, but that could change any moment, and they wouldn’t disturb her if she was under the covers.
>
First, though, she had to take care of the mundane, like folding her clothes, brushing her teeth, washing her face. She raced through her tasks, unable to stop thinking about Jay. About making love.
Finally, she was through, and after turning out the light and shutting the door, she climbed into bed and closed her eyes. Of course, she pictured Jay—only now, there were details. She remembered his scent—masculine, slightly spicy. The way his fingers made her skin tingle. Mostly, though, she remembered his lips.
She’d never been kissed like that. Never. Gently, at first, but not timidly. Not at all. He’d held her tight, his hard body pressed against hers, making her knees wobbly and her heart pound. He’d given her a moment to get used to him, to relax—although she hadn’t. Couldn’t. Especially not when his warm, wet tongue touched the crease of her lips. She’d gasped, and he’d taken advantage of the moment, slipping his tongue inside.
Amelia squeezed her legs together, but it wasn’t enough to ease her growing tension. Turning to her side, she slipped her hand inside her panties.
As she remembered in exquisite detail how he tasted, how he’d explored her so sweetly, how he’d known just what to do, her excitement grew until she breathed hard, fast, and her body grew taut as she climbed to her release.
Then her orgasm swept everything in the world away except sensation and memory. Suspended in a cocoon of pleasure, she whispered his name. Let herself believe that her dreams could come true.
Taking in deep, slow breaths, she struggled to regain her equilibrium, which wasn’t easy. She’d actually kissed him. For real. In public. He’d touched the top swell of her behind, his chest had rubbed against her breasts, and he’d said he wanted to make love to her. Said it out loud. Said it with a look of raw desire in his eyes.
He’d seen past her fortress. The one thing she’d always wished for someone to do, and had never expected to see. He understood the heat inside her, the urges that were so strong she thought she might go crazy.
