by Trish Wylie
His gaze swept over her body, lingering for longer than necessary on her feet. What was that?
Jo resisted the urge to look down at what she was wearing. There was nothing wrong with her outfit. If anything, it covered more than the one she was wearing last time he saw her. Personally she loved how the high-waist black pants made her legs seem longer, especially when accompanied by a pair of deep purple, skyscraper-heeled Louboutins. Five feet six inches didn’t exactly make her small. But considering the number of models towering over her like Amazons on regular occasions during working hours, she appreciated every additional illusionary inch of height. She shook her head a minute amount. Why should she care what he thought? What he knew about fashion wouldn’t fill a thimble. His jeans were a prime example.
Judging by the way they were worn at the knees and around the pockets on his—
She sharply averted her gaze. If he caught her looking at his rear she would never hear the end of it.
The man already had an ego the size of Texas.
‘It’s my job,’ he said with a note of impatience as he paced around the room. ‘The line didn’t reach … There wasn’t time … I knew they had my back. You done, ‘cos I’m pretty sure your friend has three more calls to make …’
Unrepentant, Jo grabbed her favourite mug and set it on the counter. She hoped Liv gave him hell, especially when he had just confirmed his stupidity. What kind of idiot unhooked his safety harness that high up? Hadn’t he heard of a little thing called gravity?
Turning as the coffee bubbled, she leaned her hip against the counter and folded her arms, studying him while he paced. His jaw tensed, broad chest lifting and lowering beneath a faded Giants T-Shirt. He looked … weary? No, weary wasn’t the right word. Tired, maybe—as if he hadn’t slept much lately. Not that she cared about that either, but since Liv asked how he looked, apparently she felt the need to study him more closely than usual and once she’d gotten started …
Okay, so if injected with a truth serum she supposed she would admit there were understandable reasons women tended to trip over their feet when he smiled. Vivid blue eyes, shortly cropped dark blond hair, the hint of shadow on his strong jaw … Add them to the ease with which his long, lean, muscular frame covered the ground and there wasn’t a single gal in Manhattan who wouldn’t volunteer their phone number.
Not that they’d hold his interest for long.
‘Well, you can stop. I’m fine. Don’t you have a wedding to plan? Said I would, didn’t I?’ His gaze slid across the room. ‘She’ll call you back.’
Before he hung up, Jo was across the apartment and had swung the door open with a smile. But instead of his taking the hint, a large hand closed it, his palm flattening on the wood by her head. His body loomed over hers. If they’d been outside he would have blocked out the sun.
‘We obviously need to talk,’ he said flatly.
No, they didn’t. Jo gritted her teeth together, rapidly losing what was left of her patience. She was contemplating grinding a stiletto heel into one of his boots when he took a short breath and added, ‘Butting your pretty little nose into other people’s business might be okay with other folks. It’s not with me.’
‘Try answering your phone and I won’t have to.’ She arched a brow. ‘Is the fact your family might think you have a death wish so very difficult for you to grasp?’
‘I don’t have a death wish.’
‘Unhooking your harness is standard procedure, is it?’
‘Go stand on the chair.’
She faltered. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
When she didn’t move, he circled her wrist with a thumb and forefinger. The jolt of heat that travelled swiftly up her arm made her drop her chin and frown as he led her across the room. Now he was touching her? He never touched her. If anything it had always felt as if there were a quarantine zone around her.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked.
‘Staging a demonstration …’
Her eyes widened when he released her wrist, set his hands on her waist and hoisted her onto an overstuffed chair. ‘Where do you get off—? Don’t stand on my furniture!’
Feet spread shoulder-width apart on the deep cushions of the sofa, he tested the springs with a couple of small bounces before jerking his chin at her. ‘Jump.’
‘What?’
‘Jump.’
That was it, she’d had enough. She wasn’t the remotest bit interested in playing games. What was he—five?
But when she attempted to get down off the chair, a long arm snapped around her waist and she was launched into mid-air. The next thing she knew, she was slammed into what felt like a wall of heat, a sharp gasp hauled through her parted lips. She jerked her chin up and stared into his eyes, the tips of their noses almost touching.
What. The. Hell?
‘You see …’ he said in a mesmerizing rumble ‘… it’s all about balance …’
Surreally, his intense gaze examined her face in a way that suggested he’d never looked at her before. But what was more disconcerting was how it felt as if there weren’t anywhere they weren’t touching. The sensation of her breasts crushed against his chest made it difficult to breathe, the contact sending an erotic jolt through her abdomen. How could she be attracted to him when she disliked him so much?
When she was lowered—unbearably slowly—along the length of his large body, Jo had no choice but to grasp wide shoulders until her feet hit the cushions. She swayed as she let go. For a moment she even felt light-headed.
‘I knew what I was doing.’ Stepping down, he lifted her onto the floor as if she weighed nothing.
Taking an immediate step back, Jo dropped her arms to her sides. Her gaze lowered to his chest. She should be angry, ticked off beyond belief he had the gall to touch her and—worse still—have an effect on her body. She liked her world right-side-up, thank you very much, and if he knew what he had done to her …
Folding her arms over heavy breasts, she lifted her chin again. ‘The giant footprints you’ve left on my sofa make us even for the half-dozen glasses.’
‘If you’ve got nothing better to do with your time than talk about me to my family, try taking up a hobby.’
A small cough of disbelief left her lips. ‘I have plenty of things to fill my time.’
‘Dating obviously isn’t one of them,’ he said dryly.
‘Meaning what, exactly?’
‘Meaning I may have forgotten why it is you’ve stayed single for so long, but after an hour it’s starting to come back to me.’ He folded his arms in a mirror of her stance. ‘Ever consider being nice from time to time might improve the odds of getting laid?’
‘Since when has my sex life been remotely in the region of any of your business?’
‘If I had to guess, I’d say around about the same time my relationship with my family became yours.’
Reaching for the kind of strength that had gotten her through worse things than an argument in the past, Jo smiled sweetly. ‘Try not to let the door hit your ass on the way out.’
‘That’s the best you’ve got?’ he asked with a lift of his brows. ‘You’re obviously out of practice.’ He nodded firmly. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll soon get you combat-ready again.’
Jo sighed heavily and headed for the door. She didn’t look at him as he crossed the room. But for some completely unknown reason, just before he left, she heard herself ask, ‘Don’t you ever get tired of this?’
Where had that come from?
Daniel stopped, turned his head and studied her with an intense gaze. ‘Quitting on me, babe?’
She frowned when the softly spoken question did something weird to her chest. ‘Don’t call me babe.’
When he didn’t move, the air seemed to thicken in the space between them. Stupid hormones—even if she was in the market for a relationship he was the last man—
‘You want to negotiate a truce?’
She didn’t know what had p
ossessed her to ask the question in the first place and now he was asking if she wanted them to be friends? She stifled a burst of laughter. ‘Did I give the impression I was waving a white flag? I’m talking about you, not me. You look tired, Daniel.’ She pouted. ‘Is the energy required pretending to be a nice guy to everyone else finally wearing you down?’
His eyes darkened. ‘Questioning my stamina, babe?’
The ‘babe’ thing was really starting to get to her.
Taking a step closer, he leaned his face close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath on her cheeks.
‘Bad idea,’ he warned.
Ignoring the flutter of her pulse, Jo stiffened her spine. Since childhood she’d had a code she lived by; one she still found hard to break, even for the tiny handful of people she allowed to occupy an equally tiny corner of her heart. Show any sign of weakness and it was the beginning of the end. The masks she wore were the reason she had survived a time in her life when she was invisible. At the beginning of her career they gave the impression professional criticism never stung. So while her heart thudded erratically, she donned a mask of Zen-like calm. ‘Am I supposed to be intimidated by that?’
He smiled dangerously in reply. ‘Keep challenging me and this is going to get real interesting, real quick.’
‘Seriously, you’re hilarious. I never knew that about you.’ Raising a hand, she patted him in the centre of his broad chest. ‘Now be a good boy and treat yourself to an early night. Can’t have those good looks fading, now, can we?’ She flattened her palm and pushed him back to make enough room to open the door. ‘What would we use to fool members of the opposite sex into thinking we’re a catch if we had to rely on our personality?’
‘You tell me.’
Moving her hand from his chest, she wrapped her fingers around a muscled upper arm and encouraged him to step through the door with another push. When he was standing in the hall and looking at her with a hint of a smile on his face, she leaned her shoulder against the door frame and angled her chin. Her eyes narrowed. It felt as if he knew something she didn’t.
She hated when he did that.
‘Admit it: you missed this.’
Lifting her gaze upwards, she studied the air and took a deep breath. ‘Nope, can’t say I did.’
‘Without me around there’s no one to set you straight when you need it.’
‘You say that as if you know me well enough to know what I need.’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t know me, Daniel. You’re afraid to get to know me.’
‘Really,’ he said dryly.
‘Yes, really, because if you did you might have to admit you were wrong about me and we both know you don’t like to admit you’re wrong about anything.’ She glanced up and down the hall as if searching for eavesdroppers before lowering her voice. ‘Worse still, you might discover you like me. And we can’t have that, can we?’
Rocking forward, he lowered his voice to the same level. ‘I don’t think there’s any danger of that.’
Jo searched his too-blue eyes, suddenly questioning if he even remembered how the war between them began. Looking back, she realized she didn’t; what was it that made him so much more difficult to get along with than every other member of his family? Everyone got to a point where they started to try and make sense of their life. She was at peace with a lot of the things she couldn’t change. But since Daniel was the only person she’d ever been immature around in her entire life, she couldn’t help but wonder why. Apparently he wasn’t the only one in need of a good night’s rest.
She rolled her eyes at the momentary weakness. ‘Whatever you tell yourself to help you sleep at night.’
‘I sleep just fine,’ he said tightly. ‘You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘I wasn’t—’
‘Just do us both a favour and stay out of my business. If you don’t, I might start poking my nose into yours.’
‘I have nothing to hide,’ she lied. ‘Do you?’
‘Don’t push me, babe.’
She managed to stop the words or what? leaving her lips, but it wasn’t solely the need to strive for maturity. There was something else going on; she could feel it. It was more than the chill in his gaze, more than the rigid set of his shoulders or the unmistakable edge of warning in his deep voice. What was it?
As if he could read the question in her eyes, Daniel frowned and turned his profile to her. A muscle tensed on his jaw, suggesting he was grinding his teeth together. But even if she had the right to ask what was wrong, before she had the chance, he turned away. When she ended up staring at his door again, she blinked and shook her head.
Well, Day One had been great.
She couldn’t wait for Day Two.
CHAPTER TWO
‘Is it just me or does coffee taste better when they make those little love hearts in the foam? It’s funny the things that can make a difference in how we feel.’
JORJA DAWSON had breasts. Considering he was a man and she was a woman, part of Daniel’s brain had to have always known that. Fortunately, in the past, they had never been pressed against his chest in a way that made them difficult to ignore.
It was the kind of intel he could have done without.
Judging by the way the tips of those breasts were beaded against the material of her tight-fitting top before she hid them beneath folded arms, the spark of sexual awareness had been mutual. She should just be thankful he had an honourable streak. If she ever found out he’d been as aware of her as she was of him, she would have a brand-new weapon at her disposal. One that, were she foolish enough to use it, would leave him no choice but to launch a counterattack with heavy artillery until she offered her unconditional surrender.
In terms of fallout, it would be similar to pulling the pin on a grenade he couldn’t toss to a safe distance.
Number two on his list: sister’s best friend.
Since every guy on the planet who didn’t have long-term plans knew to avoid that minefield, it wouldn’t matter if she wore nothing but lacy underwear to go with the shoes he would have been happy for her to wear to bed. She could have pole-danced for him and he would still resist the urge to kiss her.
‘Whatever you tell yourself to help you sleep at night. ‘
When the echoed words led directly to the memory of the unspoken questions in her eyes, he pushed his body harder in the last block of a five mile run. She’d hit a nerve but there was no way she could know he wasn’t sleeping. Or that he was sick of waking up bathed in a cold sweat, his throat raw from yelling. It had to stop before he did something stupid in work again or was forced to look for another apartment. He would damn well make it stop.
But distracting himself from the problem with thoughts of Jorja Dawson’s breasts wasn’t the way to go about it.
Slowing his pace to a walk, he shouldered his way into a busy coffee shop and pushed back the hood on his sweatshirt. After placing his order, he looked around while he waited for it to arrive, his gaze discovering a woman sitting alone by the windows. It was exactly what he needed: another woman.
Questioning if he was forming a fetish, he started his assessment with her shoes—a pair of simple black patent heels with open toes—before he moved up the legs crossed elegantly beneath the table to a fitted skirt that hugged her like a second skin. Nice. Continuing upwards, he was rewarded with a glimpse of curved breast between the lapels of a crisp white blouse as she turned in her seat. Then his gaze took in the smooth twist of dark hair at the nape of her neck in the kind of up-do that begged to be unpinned so she could shake her hair loose. She was even wearing a pair of small, rectangular-framed reading glasses to complete the fantasy.
But when she turned again, he shook his head. Used to be a time he was better at sensing the presence of the enemy.
She looked up at him when he stopped for a paper napkin at the condiment station beside her. ‘Are you kidding me?’
‘I can’t buy a cup of coffee now?’
‘You can buy it
somewhere else.’
‘This is the closest coffee shop.’
‘You can have the one two blocks down. This one is mine.’ She returned her attention to her computer screen. ‘It’s my work space every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning.’
‘I must have missed the notice on the door,’ Daniel said as he pulled out the chair facing her and sat down. He smirked when she scowled at him. ‘Good morning.’
After an attempt to continue what she was doing while he looked through the window at the steady build of people headed to their offices, she sighed. ‘You’re going to be here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, aren’t you?’
‘Not a morning person, I take it.’
‘This is your plan?’ She arched a brow when he looked at her. ‘You’re going to be there every time I turn around until you wear me down and I move? Wow … that’s …’
‘Effective?’
‘I was going to say adolescent. I can’t tell you how reassuring it is to know the city is in the hands of such a mature example of the New York Police Department.’
When her fingers began to move across the keyboard again, Daniel realized he didn’t have the faintest idea what she did for a living. He wondered why. Hadn’t needed to know was the simple answer. Though it did kind of beg the question of why it was he needed to know now.
Know your enemy and know yourself and you could fight a hundred battles, as the saying went. With that in mind he took a short breath. ‘So what is it you do anyway?’
She didn’t look up from the screen. ‘It’s the first time you’ve been tempted to ask that question?’
‘I don’t have a newspaper to pass the time.’
‘They’re on a stand by the door.’
‘It’s an internet thing, isn’t it?’
Long lashes lifted behind her glasses. ‘Meaning?’
