“People do strange things for family, too,” he added, jabbing his thumb toward the cameraman in the corner. “Like agree to be on a television show.”
She smiled. “True.” Another thing they had in common. As much as she’d like to have said more, a hell of a lot more, she knew she couldn’t. He’d given her a way out, and she wasn’t stupid; she took it.
“Don’t worry.” He lifted a hand, and using one finger, lightly touched her cheek as he brushed a piece of hair from her face. “I won’t tell Matthew about your old job. That’s something the two of you should discuss.”
His tone was low, but his words spoke volumes. Not only was Jack Anderson smart, funny and sexy as hell, he was also a fair man. A quality she could not resist.
God, she hated deceiving him.
She’d always considered herself to be strong and tough. Hell, she had to be, what with losing her parents at such a young age, and working in a predominantly male field. But this man, this gorgeous, blue-eyed, hard-bodied, former Army Ranger with a just heart, did her in. He got under her skin, past her armor and made himself at home. Damn him.
“Thank you,” she finally replied.
He nodded, smoothing a finger along her cheekbone down to her jaw. “But…as far as what happened in your dressing room…” His voice trailed off as his gaze dropped to her mouth where it lingered, then swept back up again, blazing with heat.
A matching heat shot through her body, pooling low in her belly and rushing north with frightening speed. Brielle Chapman was now guilty of another rarity. She was blushing. Cripes. What was it about this guy? First crying, now blushing? He turned her inside out and upside down like nobody’s business.
She was in trouble.
Big.
Freakin’.
Trouble.
She also knew she should say something. Anything. He was waiting for her to reply, but her body was remembering the great sex he’d just alluded to; the great, hot, monkey sex her body wanted more of, now. Please.
“Brielle.”
“Yeah?”
Oh Lordy, he stepped closer, big hands cupping her face, breath a warm caress on her skin, and her heart rocked so hard against her ribs she swore it now resided on the outside.
“What about my brother?” he asked, regarding her closely.
Brother? She blinked through the haze his nearness created. Oh, Matthew…right. How in the world could she answer without revealing what she wasn’t allowed to reveal? Her mind clutched at straws that promptly disintegrated in her flailing grasp. Crud. She had to wing it.
“What brother?”
A heart-stopping, wicked smile curved his lips and curled her toes.
“Good answer,” he murmured just before he angled her head and kissed her.
Apparently, he liked her reply. And she liked how he showed his approval. Damn, the man could kiss. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, and soon, she was reacquainted with his taste; heady, male and so very, very hot.
He let out a rough rumble and slid his hands into her hair, holding her close while he reminded her of their chemistry. Like she could forget. Long and deep, his kiss bypassed gentle and went right to oh hell yeah really quick.
Her hands fisted his shirt before they smoothed out, reveling in the play of muscles as her fingers worked their way up over his broad shoulders to lock behind his head.
He let out another rough rumble deep in his chest. Or was that her? Didn’t matter. She was hot, her whole body on fire, needing, wanting, aching for the mind-blowing release it knew he could give. Bad body. Now was not the time or place. She needed to keep this to just a kiss, even though she longed to crawl up him and take in every hard, delectable inch.
All too soon, he lifted his head and stared at her through sleepy, smoldering eyes. “Damn, every time…” He dropped his hands to her arms and slowly shook his head. “You have no idea what you do to me, Brielle.”
“Yeah?” She drew in a few shaky breaths, forcing her hands to splay on his shoulders and not crush him close for round two.
“Yeah.” He nodded, gaze locked on hers. “You drive me crazy. Ever since you stepped onto this show. Then after the kitchen the other night…”
Again, he paused as if to catch his breath and his thoughts. She wished him luck.
She was still trying to gather up her blown brain cells when he lifted his hand to touch her cheek and lightly brushed his thumb over her lower lip. Poof. Just like that, there was nothing left to gather. Who knew brain cells disintegrated faster than straw? And damn, if he didn’t stop looking at her like he wanted to strip her down and eat her up, she was going to need a drooling bib pretty damn quick. Or end up a puddle of need at his feet.
Ever so slowly, his other hand slid down her back until it rested on her hip. “Now it all makes sense,” he was saying, continuing his delicious caress on her trembling lip. “My eyes may not have recognized you, but my body sure as hell did.”
To prove it, his hand tightened and drew her close enough to feel every hard, mouthwatering, inch straining behind his zipper. She gasped and fisted his shirt as arrows of white hot need shot through her body in all directions. The urge to rock into him burned deep, but somehow, she managed to remain still.
He smiled, knowingly. “Seems your body remembers mine, too.”
She nodded, causing his thumb to brush both lips, and she tried, really tried to keep that still thing going on. But failed. Her tongue snuck out, the little devil, and lightly touched his thumb.
Breath hissed between his teeth a millisecond before his mouth replaced his appendage for another mind altering kiss. Shock soon turned to silent cheers as he backed her against the wall and held her there with his deliciously ripped body, and proceeded to take out the rest of her brain cells. One. By. One.
Admittedly, there weren’t many left.
That would explain why she rocked into him, swallowing his groan while her hands sought the warm, hard flesh of his abs. Muscles quivered under her fingers, making her heady in the knowledge she turned him on. That this gorgeous, strong, muscle-bound former Army Ranger lost control from her touch. Of course, the control thing went both ways. When it came to his touch, she had none. Gone. Zip. Control over.
Some part of her brain knew they shouldn’t be doing this. That there was a reason giving into this attraction was bad, but damned if she could recall why. Instead, she moaned as his tongue delved in slow, deep strokes, effectively zapping her strength, forcing her to cling to his rock hard body like a drowning kitten.
What a hardship. Not.
Brielle could feel the heat of his body, the hard play of muscles against her curves, and heaven help her, her mind clicked off, allowing need to take over. Her purpose, her job, the cameraman, the investigation, all reason left Brielle. She trembled into him. She was done fighting their attraction.
Warm hands glided down her spine, over her bottom, then back up again as he let out another deep rumble. Beneath her palm, his heart thudded in an unsteady beat, matching the erratic pulse pumping through her veins. Throbbing with a need born over seven months ago, she rocked against him again, enjoying the feel of his throbbing need. He released her mouth to trail warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses over her neck and shoulder, drawing out a soft, little hum of desire from deep in her throat.
“Dodger…”
He stilled and drew back, meeting her blinking gaze. “What did you call me?”
Smoldering blue eyes were nearly black and filled with so much heat she had no idea what kept her from fusing to the wall. “Dodger,” she said between breaths, her body still trembling. “It’s the nickname I gave you because of the hat you wore at The Limelight.”
His head lifted a fraction before something unreadable shot through his gaze. “Brielle, Dodger happens to be my nickname. I got it in the Middle East for dodging bullets.”
For two full beats they just stared. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her sweat in strange places. On the
third beat, they lunged for each other, holding tight, kissing deep, wanting more. So much more.
Holy hell, not again. She didn’t want a repeat of the dressing room, well she did, just not right there. It would be nice to take things slow and easy, and yet she was powerless to stop the need that propelled her into his arms, tongue skimming the roof of his mouth, hands gliding over solid muscles in an attempt to crawl inside. The man drove her crazy. She wanted to touch him. All of him. Taste all of him. And he seemed to suffer the same affliction. His lips scorched a trail over her neck before reclaiming her mouth in a frenzied, mind-blowing show of talent. Oh God, could this man kiss.
“Jack, Brielle, you’re on in two minutes,” Greg announced, knuckles rapping on the closed door.
Knocked back to reality, she broke the kiss and blinked at him while dragging in several ragged breaths. Two minutes? Her fuzzy brain couldn’t compute. For what? Inhaling deeply, she became aware of her surroundings. Music replaced the sound of her out-of-control heartbeat while her mind registered Jack’s heated expression and the cameraman’s ear-to-ear grin.
Oh boy. What the hell did she just do?
Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes and sucked in several more deep breaths. Everything was okay. Things could be salvaged, somehow. They had to be. She needed to think about Uncle Franco and his business, of Matthew’s safety, not her need for the groom’s brother.
“Brielle.”
She sighed and opened her eyes; a mixture of heat and worry crossed his handsome face.
“I think we just proved The Limelight was no fluke,” he said, placing a hand on the wall next to her head, and lifted the other to push her side-swept bangs off her face. “We’re downright combustible.”
She let out a shaky laugh when what she really wanted to do was roar at the truthfulness of his remark. “Yeah. A veritable spark to gasoline waiting to happen.”
“Agreed.” A small smile tugged his lips still wet from her kisses. “I’d like nothing more than to retest that theory right now, but we need to talk.”
Uh oh. She’d been totally on board for the retesting part, despite her resolution to salvage her mission. Somehow.
Then stop kissing the groom’s brother.
“Okay. What about?”
“My brother,” he replied, all traces of heat gone from his face as he stared down at her, his expression somber.
Damn. She didn’t want to talk about Matthew. Matthew Anderson was her job. The ‘mark’ she was hired to keep safe by finding the person responsible for the threats. No, she didn’t want to talk about him. She’d much rather talk about Jack and his incredible, amazing kisses. About how her body still ached with unfulfilled need. How that talented mouth of his…
Oh, boy. He did it again. Zapped more brain cells. She ripped her gaze from his lips and drew in a long, shaky breath in a desperate attempt to regain the capacity to think. Hopefully, when the fog lifted, she’d find a few salvageable cells. Hell, she’d be happy to find just one.
“Well? What about Matthew?” he asked, gaze growing more serious with each passing second. “I told you I wouldn’t say anything about The Limelight, but I have to tell him about this.” He motioned between them with a wave of his hand. “I can’t—I won’t keep something like that from him. I have to tell him we’re…”
“Combustible?” She smiled, despite her dire situation. The love and respect he had for his brother made her heart flutter and ache in her chest. Jack Anderson was a good man. A man she’d really, really like to get to know better. Not deceive. Hell, he didn’t even know her real name.
“Yeah, combustible.” His lips twitched. “I have to tell him.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
In fact, she wanted him to. Maybe this would force Matthew’s hand to reveal why she was really on the show. Yeah, the more Brielle thought about it, the better she felt. Let him tell his brother about their attraction. She had faith in Matthew’s ability to handle the situation, and secretly hoped he’d spill the beans.
“Even if he sends you home?”
Home? Wait. “No.” Crud. “I can’t.”
Blue eyes narrowed while every muscle in his body appeared to tighten at once. “Why n—”
The door swung open and Greg swept in, cutting off whatever Jack had been about to say.
“It’s time.” A thousand watt smile on his face, the host leaned against the opened door, signaling he expected them to leave. “You’re up.”
With the conversation brought to an abrupt end, Brielle watched Jack clench his jaw and swallow whatever he’d been about to say. Yeah. Not a happy camper. She, on the other hand, was never more relieved in her life. They were treading into tricky territory, and for once, Brielle welcomed the interruption, and was more than happy to escape to the hellish realm of reality TV.
After last night, Jack needed an out for his restless energy. And the unknown ball of disquiet sitting on his chest needed to go, too. Or at the very least, needed a name so he could form a plan of action and annihilate the sucker from existence. What the hell had happened to the simple, straightforward life he’d once lived? Before threats and producers and sexy dancers. Before this damn show.
Chlorine assaulted his nose as he walked across the mansion’s indoor recreation room, complete with pool, sauna, Jacuzzi, and wet bar. Unoccupied recreation room. Good. He needed to work off some steam and punching the heavy bag wasn’t going to cut it today. Besides, Rodriguez and Matthew still wore bruises from his last go round.
Dropping his towel on a chair, he executed a running dive into the tepid water and didn’t ease his strokes until he reached the other side. A good start, but not nearly enough. Surfacing, he drew in air, then immediately switched to the breaststroke and set out across the pool.
Last night, he’d made the biggest discovery of his life. Brielle was Ariel. A shock, and yet, not so much. From the moment the brunette had walked into the gathering room and his life a week ago, he’d compared the two. Christ, she twisted him in knots with her mile long legs, sexy smile, warm brown eyes and that curvy body his hands couldn’t resist. And now he knew why. Because he hadn’t resisted.
Seven months ago, he’d held that body. Hell…he’d been in that incredible body for a glorious few minutes.
He cursed and dove under the water, trying to out-swim his desire for the woman who gasped when he kissed her neck, moaned when he brushed against her, panted when he drove home…
Shit. This wasn’t working. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He hadn’t done a good job of putting Ariel from his mind, until this show. Until Brielle. No wonder. He snickered as he switched directions in the pool.
Touching Brielle, kissing Brielle was the most incredible experience he’d ever known. When he’d returned to the mansion early this morning, he had to stand under the cold shower for a full twenty-five minutes. A record for Capt. Jack Anderson—whose heart dodged entanglements faster than he dodged bullets. He’d learned his lesson with Holly, having stayed entangled-free for seven years before Caroline had managed to fool him with her polished charm and fake sincerity. After her, he was done. That was it. The crazy desire to settle down and maybe start a family blew apart into tiny smithereens. That would require taking chances, and he was done taking chances. Wasn’t he?
For two years after Caroline, he’d been happy, keeping women at bay, dabbling in the occasional mutual romp when both parties were on the same page. Then he’d walked into The Limelight and promptly lost his mind. If he were honest, he’d have to admit, he hadn’t been the same since. Something was off. A restlessness had taken root and no matter what he’d tried, he couldn’t shake it.
Reaching the pool’s edge, he turned around and backstroked to the other end while working through his thoughts. Things had gotten worse. He met Brielle. Tasted Brielle. Couldn’t hold onto his control around Brielle. He was a fucking idiot. This was the worst possible timing. How could he give into his desires and think about hims
elf when his brother’s heart and life were at stake?
Silently cursing his soul, he kicked harder. He was scum. No. He was worse than scum on scum. How could he do that to his brother? Brielle was supposed to be here for Matthew. Never mind that the woman had returned his kisses.
His pace slowed and he smiled. She’d done more than that, once upon a time. A hell of a lot more. She’d felt the crazy pull of attraction, and like him, had thrown caution to the wind and gave into need. Which was fine, because they were never supposed to see each other again. So what now? How the hell was he supposed to forget what it had felt like to be inside her?
The woman messed with his head—both heads—without even trying. She was easily becoming the most intriguing woman he’d ever met. And the most dangerous.
With his feet firmly planted on the bottom, he stood and scrubbed a hand over his face. Never had he been more physically attracted, and if he let her in and things went south, the damage would be irreparable.
He was in deep shit.
Half of him wanted to run away from her, screaming for the hills; the other half wanted to haul her up close so he could bury himself deep inside and never let go.
“There you are, Jack. I’ve been looking for you,” his brother said, pulling him from his thoughts.
Jack stilled. Alarm shooting down his stiffening spine as he watched Matthew drop a towel next to his on the chair. “Why? Is something wrong? Has something happened?”
“No. No. Nothing like that. Jeez, calm down.” Big grin tilting his lips, his goofy brother walked to the edge to peer into the water. “Boy, for someone who won the dance contest with the beautiful Brielle last night, you’re awfully testy.”
Testy. He answered by swimming away. To hell with testy. He was pent-up. His groin needed no reminding of that dance. Laughter echoed through the room and a shaft of annoyance spiked across Jack’s shoulder blades. The last thing he needed was his brother’s sense of humor.
“Yes, I’m definitely sensing some stress.” Matthew dove into the water and surfaced a few feet away. “Care to tell me about it?”
She Does Know Jack Page 16
