His mouth tightened, but otherwise, he didn’t move.
The longer the silence stretched between them, the more unsure Alex was of her ability to resist him again. The man had a way of mastering a room and the people in it. She had thought herself immune to his uncanny charisma, but had never been so wrong. Unable to break eye contact with him, Alex watched him walk toward her, seemingly in slow motion. With his every step her resolve crumbled, and with a sinking dread, she realized where they were once again headed.
A knock on her door halted his progress, and she sighed with relief. Lana to the rescue. Alex turned to the door and called, “Lana, I’m a little busy right now.”
“Alex,” Heath said, and the sound of his voice sent terror to her heart.
She turned wide eyes toward Jack, who seemed almost … amused? Gesturing wildly, she hissed, “You have to get out of here!”
“Why?” he whispered. “I locked the door—just don’t let him in.”
“He has a key,” she whispered back, her heart thudding in her ears. Heath did not deserve to find another man in her apartment. Louder, she called, “Give me a minute and I’ll be right there.” Desperate, she ran to retrieve Jack’s shirt. “You have to hide!”
He caught his shirt and shrugged into it, then fastened his jeans. “I will not hide just because you can’t admit the truth to your boyfriend.”
Alex stopped, facing him. “And what truth would that be?”
“That he obviously doesn’t satisfy you.”
Her face flamed in the face of her wantonness. “I love Heath,” she said calmly.
“Oh, you love him? Well, your loyalty is staggering.”
His sarcasm stung her like a slap. She imagined all kinds of scenes if Heath and Jack squared off in her apartment, Jack gloating, Heath the cuckold. She hated herself, and she hated Jack Stillman. “If you have a decent bone in your body, you won’t do this,” Alex managed to say.
“I’ll just use my key,” Heath announced, and she closed her eyes, tensing for a confrontation. She opened her eyes at the sound of a door sliding open, just in time to see the blue of Jack’s shirt disappearing over the railing of her balcony.
The sheer curtains billowed inside the apartment, dancing on the breeze. Before she could react, Heath opened the door, and she wheeled to give him a smile she snatched from thin air.
He gave her a quick embrace, but all Alex could think was that the aroma of another man’s lovemaking lingered on her body. “Enjoying the balcony?” Heath asked, nodding toward the open door.
“Um, no, not exactly,” Alex said, slipping out of his arms and crossing to the open door. “The insects are so bad, you know.” She slid the door closed, just in time to muffle the low rumble of a motorcycle starting. At least the cad hadn’t broken his neck, she thought with a tiny rush of relief.
“Your bug zapper isn’t working?” Heath asked behind her.
“Not on this particular pest,” she murmured to the glass door, watching the single taillight disappear at a breathtaking speed.
*
Chapter 13
« ^ »
“Okay, Alex, I have a fifteen minute break, so you’d better talk fast.” Lana set a mug of steaming coffee in front of Alex and plopped down in the opposite café chair.
“Who says I have something to talk about?” Alex was already reconsidering her impulse to stop by to see her friend before putting in a few hours at the office on a Saturday morning.
Lana looked toward the ceiling. “I’m assuming this impromptu visit has something to do with the grinding full-body kiss you shared with Jack the Attack last night, followed by his subsequent return, then Heath’s appearance, and my next door neighbor’s shrieking phone call that some man was scaling down the fire escape ladder from your apartment.”
Stunned, Alex swallowed a huge mouthful of coffee. “I didn’t realize I was under surveillance.”
“Our cable was finally cut off, and the traffic in and out of your apartment was more interesting than watching static.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Just be glad I was able to talk Mrs. Standish out of calling the police,” Lana said. “Holy hickey—is that a bite mark on your leg?”
Choking on the coffee she sucked down her windpipe, Alex’s gaze flew to the area between her ankle and calf, the pink imprint of Jack’s perfect teeth clearly visible on her bare leg below the hem on her long floral skirt. She hadn’t noticed it this morning, but then again, she wasn’t accustomed to checking her body for telltale love bites, either. Alex quickly crossed her legs at the knee, tucking the offensive mark out of sight. “I, um … I, um…”
“You’re blushing again,” her friend said with a whoop. “So, was he as fantastic a lover as he was rumored to be in college?”
Alex massaged her temples, wondering if she should unload her grievous mistake on her friend or let it fester inside her until she ruptured from guilt. Finally, she sighed and nodded morosely.
Lana squealed. “I knew it! The best you’ve ever had?”
Her dignity long gone, she winced and nodded again.
Another squeal. “How romantic—your lover sneaking down the fire escape as your fiancé walks through the front door!”
“Lana, it wasn’t romantic, it was lunacy. It was deceitful. Heath is a decent man who deserves better.” She stared into the depths of her coffee, wishing she’d been thinking as clearly last night as she was this morning.
Her friend was studying her with those disconcerting violet eyes. “Oh, my God. You’re falling for Jack Stillman, aren’t you?”
Alex’s eyes bulged from her aching head. “You can’t be serious. I don’t even like Jack Stillman.”
“Disdain keeps a relationship interesting. Look at my folks.”
“Lana, for heaven’s sake, there’s no ‘relationship’ here. The man is a playboy, heavy emphasis on the ‘boy.’”
“He looked full-grown from my vantage point.”
She scoffed. “He probably went home and carved a notch in the post of his waterbed.”
Lana lifted a pale eyebrow. “Just one notch?”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Yeeeeees.”
“Did you tell Heath?”
“No.”
“Good—take this one to your grave.”
“Considering I almost had a stroke last night when Heath showed up, I nearly did take it to my grave. He only stayed long enough to have a drink, but I was an absolute nervous wreck by the time he left.” She exhaled noisily. “I should have told him last night. Instead I was awake all night, wallowing in guilt.”
“Alex, you’re too uptight. You and Heath aren’t married yet, you know.”
“But we’re supposed to be setting a date soon!”
“Life is all about timing, girlfriend.”
Alex frowned, reluctant to unleash that particular line of thinking.
Lana tilted her head. “Hmm—loose hair, pink cheeks, bright eyes. If you ask me, depravity suits you.”
“You know, if you don’t buy this coffee shop, you really should consider counseling.”
“Me, be a counselor?”
“No, I meant you should see a counselor.”
“Oh, very funny. You know, a black widow spider also turns hostile after good sex.”
Alex stuck her tongue out at her friend.
“So, when will you see him again?”
“Who?”
“Jack!”
Alex sighed, certain there was no more miserable, sinful person walking the streets. “Monday. I’m supervising a combination commercial and photo shoot. I don’t have the slightest idea what I’ll say when I see him.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Men tend not to obsess over illicit sex. They save their energy for bigger things, like professional wrestling … and eating foods that end in o.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re right about one thing,” Alex observed wryly. “Jack Stillman hasn’t lost a wink of sleep over our little encounter.”<
br />
*
Jack yawned for the umpteenth time, cursing the insomnia brought on by wondering if Reddinger stayed at Alex’s apartment last night. More than the lost sleep, though, he simply hated the feeling of helplessness and frustration, and that he was letting it get to him. After all, he’d only known the woman for a few days. If it didn’t bother her to cheat on her boyfriend, why should it bother him?
He banged his fist on his desk. Because, dammit, it had taken all his nerve to go back to her apartment and risk making a fool out of himself. He’d hoped she felt the chemistry between them that had his senses on a tilt, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t read this woman—she was different than the females he was accustomed to. Cold, hot, smart, gorgeous, engaged, sexy, engaged, passionate. Engaged.
He resented like hell sneaking over her balcony like a blasted criminal while blankety-blank Reddinger marched in the freaking front door like a bloody king. And it stuck in his craw to realize that what had been a fairly relevant experience for him had been little more than a tumble to Alex.
You need to fasten your pants and leave, Jack.
At the memory of her words, he muttered a few more choice words of his own into his thick, cold coffee. He’d never been asked to leave a woman’s place before, except by the occasional rankled boyfriend or brother or father. He’d made the mistake of thinking that because their passion had been electric for him, that it had been for Alex, too. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.
He should have taken more time with her, he thought, chastising himself. Been more gentle, more—he grimaced—sensitive. But the woman had him so worked up, it was a miracle he’d lasted as long as he did. He’d told himself that he would take his time when they made love again, which would have been before morning if he’d had his way. Alex wasn’t the kind of woman a man could sample—he wanted his fill of her, and it irked him like the dickens that she didn’t share his sentiments.
Jack stopped and frowned. Sentiments? Bad choice of words.
When another yawn overtook him, he stood to limp around his desk on the ankle he’d sprained when he dropped from the end of the fire escape ladder. He sighed, running his hand down his face. At least the office was blessedly quiet. Tuesday, thankfully, believed in weekends off from her non-paying job. And Stripling the Fed definitely wouldn’t be bothering him on a Saturday. So he was determined to finish several drawings today for the Tremont’s account and a few other odds and ends—if he could stay awake.
When the phone rang, he was tempted to let it go, then, buoyed by the slim chance that Alex might be trying to reach him, he yanked up the receiver. “Stillman & Sons Agency, Jack speaking.”
“Well, I don’t believe it,” his brother Derek said. “You in the office on a Saturday.”
Jack winced, not in the mood to hear from his brother—Derek was having all the sex he could withstand with a woman he cared about.
Not that he actually cared about Alex, Jack reminded himself.
“Are you there, Jack?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” Naturally, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to the woman, but that wasn’t the same as caring about her.
“You don’t sound so good, bro. Late night?”
“Not particularly. Just a little tired.” Because if getting naked with Alexandria Tremont was foolish, caring about her would be just plain stupid.
“How’s the Tremont account going?”
“I’m working on it now. Thought I’d put in a few hours, before going to the football game with old man Tremont this afternoon.” Because the poor man who lost himself in those blue eyes of hers was doomed to a life of servitude.
“I’m impressed. In the office on a Saturday and shmoozing the client, too. If I didn’t know better, Jack, I’d say you were … working.”
“I see marriage has turned you into a comedian,” Jack remarked dryly. Although a life of servitude between the thighs of the exquisite Alexandria held a certain amount of appeal.
“So, have you managed to wow the boss’s daughter—what’s her name?”
“Alexandria. And I wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘wow’ yet.” Although, dammit, if he could just convince her to give him another chance between the sheets, he’d rock her world.
“You’ll do all right if you can keep your libido under control.”
Jack frowned, realizing that, once again, Derek was right. He’d probably blown his only chance to win over Alex by dragging her to bed like a Neanderthal. Once Reddinger and her father found out, they’d kick him off the account for sure. Then he straightened with a revelation.
What if she’d set him up? How convenient that good ol’ Reddinger had shown up last night when he did. Maybe she’d concocted the entire scheme to get rid of Jack and secure the other firm she’d wanted to work with all along. He gulped. And as much as Al Tremont liked him, he might draw the line at Jack the Attack diddling his precious daughter. In fact, if Derek wanted to kill him for bedding Ms. Tremont, he might have to stand in line.
“Jack,” Derek said. “You are keeping your word to not get involved with this woman, aren’t you?”
Remorse washed over him that he’d jeopardized the account, and worse, that he’d imagined Alexandria wanted him. “Derek, we’re not involved,” he said thickly. Alex had made that much perfectly clear, hadn’t she? You need to fasten your pants and leave, Jack.
Now that he looked back on the episode, he felt downright used. Like a … a … a piece of meat.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Derek said. “Promise me you’ll be on your best behavior.”
“Yeah, I promise.” A rather large piece of meat, but meat nonetheless.
“Anything else going on I should know about?”
“Um, no, not a thing.” Jack leaned down to massage his throbbing ankle. He didn’t have the time or energy to launch into the office problems, plus he didn’t want to wreck the rest of Derek’s honeymoon. “How’s Hawaii?”
“Great,” Derek said. “What little we’ve seen of it.”
“Bad weather?”
“No, good sex. I figure we can buy a postcard book or something at the airport when we leave.”
Jack chuckled. “Janine has really loosened you up, man.”
“Yeah, it’s amazing how a woman can change you.”
When an image of Alex’s face flashed in his mind, Jack suddenly sobered. “That’s assuming a man needs to be changed.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not all perfect like you, Jack. Hey, I have to go—Janine just yelled for me.”
“And you jump when she calls?”
“Like a randy kangaroo,” Derek said cheerfully. “You just wait, man, a woman’s going to come along someday and blindside you, too.”
Jack frowned and hung up the phone. He didn’t begrudge his brother happiness—God knew he deserved it. But he’d become one of those I - found - the - meaning - of - life - and - you - need - it - too - brotha - and - sista married people. No, thanks.
Pure resolve drove him to finish the drawings in record time, which he tucked into a portfolio. Since he was picking up Al at his office, he’d stop on the way and make color copies to leave on Alex’s desk so she’d have them before the photo and commercial shoot on Monday. The drawings were good and maybe they would prevent his ass from being fired, if his suspicions regarding Alex’s wiles were confirmed.
Jack sighed, mentally kicking himself with every step through the parking lot. He’d find out soon enough, he supposed.
*
“Send the tray of rings to my office as soon as possible, please.” Alex hung up the phone and made a check mark on the inventory of items she was gathering for the shoot on Monday. At this rate, she’d need a van to get Jack’s wardrobe and props to the studio. She sat at her desk, too restless and distracted by the events of the previous evening to address anything but the most superficial items on her to-do list.
Snatches of their hurried lovemaking flashed through her mind, unbidden. If she closed h
er eyes, she could still feel his hands on her, could still feel their bodies joined. But when she opened her eyes, all she could feel was the blanket of guilt settling over her head. She wasn’t sure what had come over her last night when Jack had returned to her door, but so far she had ruled out common sense, rationality and coherence.
Leaning forward on her elbows, Alex pressed her fingers to her temples and admitted the awful truth. She had wanted him. Blame it on being thrown off balance by his sudden appearance at the racetrack, blame it on the disappointment of Heath leaving early, blame it on the proximity to Jack the rest of the afternoon, blame it on the weather, but she had wanted him in the most base way a woman could want a man. Worse, she wanted him again.
At the short rap on her door, Alex turned, relieved at the sight of her father standing in the doorway. They had the whole afternoon together, just the two of them—just the tonic she needed to put Jack Stillman out of her mind. “Are you ready to leave for the gallery?” she asked, reaching for her purse, then hesitated at the sight of his rather casual clothing.
“Alex, dear, I’m sorry. I left you a message at your apartment this morning, but you must have already left. Would you mind if I take a rain check on the gallery showing?”
Disappointment barbed through her, but she managed a shrug. “Has something come up?”
“Actually—hey, Jack!” He waved with animation in the direction of the elevators.
Alex’s heart jumped to her throat. “Jack?” she croaked.
“He invited me to the UK football game this afternoon. You don’t mind if you and I reschedule, do you, dear?”
She did mind, but one look at his shining face told her where and with whom he’d rather spend the day. Her heart squeezed. “Of course I d-don’t mind, Dad.” Then she tensed, waiting for the appearance of Jack, wishing she’d had more time to prepare for this face-to-face meeting.
The day was rapidly going in the tank.
Looking well-rested and fit in jeans and a gray UK sweatshirt, Jack stepped into the doorway and shook hands with her father. The men made small talk, ignoring her, but giving her time to gather her wits.
Her heart thumped crazily as she scrutinized the length of him, struck by his incredible good looks, remembering their intimate encounter, the things they’d whispered to each other in the throes of passion. Her temperature climbed and the collar of her blouse suddenly seemed warm against her neck.
IT TAKES A REBEL Page 14
