by Hazel Parker
With the giddiness and the preoccupation combined, Jillian wasn’t really looking at where she was going. She stumbled but caught herself in time.
Then she bumped into a hard object, and she felt the earth tilt before something solid banded around her waist.
Jillian squeaked, thinking how stupid it was to be bumping into a pole in clear daylight. The urge to look around to see if someone witnessed it was strong, but she resisted it. Then clarity came as she realized that whatever was wrapped around her was moving, and she froze as it withdrew.
“I’m sorry, Miss. Are you okay?”
Jillian looked up.
No, she didn’t bump into a pole.
She bumped into one of the most drop dead gorgeous men she’d ever seen in her life.
Chapter 2
The woman was distracted and could have easily been mugged if she wasn’t more careful: that was the first thought that popped into Jack Bruno’s head. That was when he had his arms around her and couldn’t really see her face, which he’d always wanted to do since he saw that grainy black-and-white picture. Jack took a step back, making the proper apology and watching as she finally looked up.
The face wasn’t quite what he expected. He’d been so used to following her from afar, where so far, he’d observed that she had a short, petite stature and was inclined to wearing muted colors that were mostly greys and creams—boring colors, in his opinion. Her brown hair was also always pulled back in a bun or ponytail, stick-straight and without a single strand out of place. She came across as very professional and put together and he had to wonder why she got fired from her old job. Jack didn’t really get an explanation, but he did get one instruction.
To get the painting as soon as he could.
Her face…it was as small as her body, but with surprisingly big features—wide, sensual lips, high cheeks and huge brown eyes that verged on looking like dark chocolate. They were probably her best feature, and Jack let himself look into them as he waited for her response.
Her cheeks turned pink, and he knew it was because of him. He always had this certain effect on women. Finally, she seemed to get her bearings, blinking her eyes and clearing her throat.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, her voice soft and slightly no-nonsense. She made a move to hasten off.
Not so fast.
“Hey, I think I know you from somewhere,” Jack said before pausing. “Aren’t you Jillian Jones?”
Her eyes widened, then turned wary. Good. That was a normal reaction. “Yes,” she said cautiously. “And you are?”
Jack grinned. It was another one of his signature moves, and he could see she looked a little bit dazed. He held out his hand as politely as he could. “I’m a big fan of your work. I’ve actually just bought your painting from one of the galleries here. Window Cloud.”
Her dazed expression cleared to give way to pleasant surprise, and she looked like she didn’t know what to say. “Oh. Wow. I am surprised.”
He tilted his head. “Why? Your work is awesome.”
“It was one of my least favorite works and not as…” She seemed to realize she was just shooting herself with that statement and immediately cleared her throat. “Thank you.” She finally took the hand he offered, shaking it firmly. Her fingers were soft, and he felt warmth from them. Then she removed her hand, and he realized that there probably weren’t that many people who shook her hand or was her fan in general, considering her work wasn’t even that well-known.
Which meant he really had to tread carefully if he was to sound plausible at all.
Jack kept his tone light. Unobtrusive. “My name's Jack Bailey, by the way.”
“Jillian Jones. Er, I guess you already know that.” She blushed again, and he couldn't help but grin in amusement. It made her redden some more. “Thank you for buying my art. I don't even remember which gallery I commissioned that in. It was one of my earlier works.”
“2013, at the SoHo Art Club. It’s a really good piece. A masterpiece, I daresay.” It wasn’t, actually, because it was more basic than anything. But Jack wasn’t going to put it against her, considering she did it in college and it was sold mostly out of necessity than anything.
“Oh.” Pleasantness filled her features, lighting up her face. She hesitated. “Um...thanks, Mr. Bailey.”
“Jack,” he corrected warmly.
Her expression turned shy. “Jack.”
Jack's boss hadn't been kidding when he said she was pretty awkward around men, a testament that the boss also got from her old workplace's owner. She looked like she was about to bolt again, so he got to work quickly and stepped forward. “Were you about to get some breakfast?”
“Well…yes.”
He beamed. “There's a really good breakfast place near the harbor that sells the best French toast. Andy’s.”
Her eyes widened again. “That's my favorite breakfast spot.”
Of course it was, which was why he made sure to mention it. She went there practically every other day. “It's my favorite too, and I think we should...” He let himself trail off, then let his eyes widen. “Jesus, I sound like an overeager kid. I'm sorry. I promise I'm no stalker. I really just admire your work, and this was a lucky coincidence. And I should be going now because I'm almost late for work. I would have loved to have a meal with you, but I probably have freaked you out. So I'll just head to work. It was really nice meeting you.”
He flashed her an apologetic smile, waved, then turned around and took a few slow steps away. He counted the time in his head.
Five seconds later, her voice called out. “Wait!”
Bingo.
Casually, he turned his head and watched her struggle with some kind of decision. Finally, she lifted her chin and gave him a small smile. “I don't mind dinner.”
It was the first step he needed. And he was going to take whatever he could get to make sure he got that painting and completed his mission.
“Miss Jones, I would love to dine with you.”
Her face softened, and her smile widened. “Please call me Jillian.”
* * *
Dinner was a casual affair, with him picking a place where she could grow comfortable with him—a restaurant on a one-story building's rooftop that overlooked the sea and the busy streets below. SoHo was such a tourist spot, and normally Jack liked to get away from the hustle and bustle—but it was also the perfect place to blend in with the crowd, and it was exactly what his kind needed without being too crowded like the whole of New York.
Jillian was dressed casually, too, in her blue summer dress that wasn't as revealing as most and looked cute on her. He probably repeated the word too much in his mind, but then again, it was the truth. She was cute. Her hair was up in that same ponytail, and he wondered how it looked down.
She was nervous at first, not really speaking even as they ordered their food. But Jack did his best to get her into conversation, focusing on topics that he knew she’d enjoy: art.
“So, do you have any favorite local artists around the neighborhood?”
She tilted her head, considering his question carefully. She then began to spout off names that weren’t that famous, though he recognized a few of them.
“You’ve got a really eclectic taste,” he complimented.
That made her smile. “Thanks. I tend to go for the unusual. What about you? Who are your favorites?”
Jack listed some of the only artists he knew, then gazed into her eyes. “And you, of course. Like I said, I’m a fan of your stuff. I actually wanted to buy one of your other paintings…Moonlight River? But when I went to the gallery I saw it in last year, it was no longer there. The owner said it was not for sale, so yeah…I went for the cloud painting.”
A stricken expression crossed her face, and she quickly looked down to cover it up. Jack suspected she was still pretty sensitive about whatever happened, and honestly, he was getting a bit curious about it. But it didn’t matter, not when he had one clear motive. That gallery owne
r was one of them and someone he really didn’t know well, so he couldn’t exactly judge.
“Yeah, it’s not for sale.”
Her words had Jack stilling inside, but he kept his next words casual. “Why not?”
She bit her lip, distracting him for a little bit. “It’s a long story, but let’s just say I have a…sad history with that gallery.”
He let himself look surprised. “History?”
“Yes. I’m no longer connected there. And that painting is a great reminder of what I worked hard for and how it all vanished, so I’d rather not sell it now—as a reminder to myself to do better.”
It was bad news for him, but again, Jack didn’t let himself be fazed by it. Instead, he switched his tactic and eyed her in concern, then hesitated a bit before he placed his hand on top of hers. He squeezed before removing his hand, and the move had her looking up at him, their gazes meeting.
Pretty eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “I hope you get to rise above it.”
Her face softened again. “Yes. I actually just got a new job.”
“Good for you. That sounds great.”
The food arrived, and they ate in a mixture of companionable silence and a steady stream of conversation. Jack cajoled her into different topics and watched as her shyness vanished bit by bit, to be replaced by an animation that lit her face up and had her smiling more warmly than this morning. It made a huge change in her demeanor, and he could imagine that this was how she was when she was gallery director—confident, talkative and filled with so much warmth that people just listened to whatever she had to say. It was a quiet kind of charm, one that he found himself getting a bit hooked on.
“So what do you do for a living?”
He didn’t even blink. “I collect art,” he said, then smiled when her brow rose. “As a side job. I’m actually the director of a security team for large-scale business establishment, which is why I stumbled upon your work during one of my client visits.”
Not far from the truth, but not the whole truth, either.
“That sounds interesting,” she said, obviously wanting to know more. When she looked like she was about to ask more questions, he leaned forward.
“Not as interesting as you are,” he admitted. He took her hand again. “I hope you won’t be put off by my boldness, but I just had to say it. You’re so different, Jillian, from all the other women I’ve met.”
“I am?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. She didn’t remove her hand, which was a good sign. So he pushed on. “And I would very much like to see you again after this. If that is okay?”
Jillian looked like she was torn between being charmed and being unable to believe it, so he upped the ante.
“I’m normally not like this,” he said. “But…well, I couldn’t help it with you. I bumped into you this morning, well technically you bumped into me, and was just a fan of your work but here I am…more interested than I should be.”
“Oh.” She looked down, biting her lip.
“I am sorry did that turn you off?”
“Not really. It’s just…I’ve never had a man be this bold with me before.”
“Ah. That’s a shock, honestly. You’re so refreshing.”
“Thank you.”
He noted that she didn’t say yes and inwardly cursed. But he let the topic go for now, not wanting to push too hard too soon.
They kept talking. They finished dinner and progressed to dessert, and they talked about family—her about her parents in Massachusetts and him about his sister in another city. Another partial truth. He paid the bill when dinner was done, ignoring her protest and teasing her that she can get the bill next time. Her eyes widened at the implication of that, and something flickered in those brown eyes and had them sparkling.
It was really, really sexy.
Jack supposed he could press now, but he still held himself back as gut instinct told him she wouldn’t like that. They walked out of the restaurant and into the streets, and he turned to her when they got to the taxi stand.
“I had a great time,” he said. To his surprise, there was not a single lie in that statement.
“Me, too,” she said softly.
He didn’t repeat his invitation for dinner yet, watching her watch him instead. She bit her lip again, and his gaze landed on that kissable pair.
Part of him didn’t want to go through what needed to happen next—not because he didn’t want to, but because it felt like too much for a mission.
But he’d done more—far worse things, in fact—in the past, and this was pretty much an improvement. A pleasure, even.
He leaned forward. She didn’t fight it when he pressed his lips against hers, a soft touch. He expected the kiss to be smooth, gentle—a casual thing that would just keep her interested, and him feeling nothing.
Instead, what he got was Jillian opening her mouth for him and kissing him back so willingly that he staggered inwardly.
Yes, it was a soft kiss. But there was nothing casual about it as he felt a jolt in his stomach, felt her taste seep into his senses. She tasted like a hint of wine, a hint of dessert. He deepened the kiss, unable to help himself. He took, the kiss spiraling a bit out of his control and making his mind go blank.
He heard her soft, surprised moan.
An alarm bell started ringing in Jack’s head, even while he rasped. “Go out again with me, Jillian.” He nipped her bottom lip, and she gasped. The sound sent his cock stirring.
“Yes,” she murmured. “I will.”
Soft hands fluttered down his chest.
He wanted to kiss her some more, wanted to slide his tongue in. Wanted to place his hands in her hair and pull her closer, so he could feel that warm body against his.
Instead, he broke the kiss and took a steadying step back. Then he attempted a smile.
“I’ll let you go now because I might do things that are considered…not too gentlemanly.”
Her mouth did that little O, and he inwardly cursed for wanting to kiss her again. Then he got a grip on himself and finally got her into a taxi, watching as it rolled off and disappeared down the corner.
Because the warmth still simmered in his stomach, he had to take a deep breath. Then, another.
That kiss had been a mistake, and it shouldn’t happen again.
He would keep charming her, yes. It would help get him into her apartment—help him find where that damn painting was. But definitely no kisses.
Not when it felt that good.
Chapter 3
Jillian had been kissed before—gentle kisses, polite kisses, sloppy kisses all from dates that never really worked out because she was just too absorbed in work to follow up or be interested in the men she had dated. She’d always assumed that was the case, always blamed everything on her work and pretty much written men off as a waste of time.
But Jack Bailey just proved her wrong on the matter.
He was interested in her—an interest that she was wary of at first, considering his introduction as her fan and her general aversion to too-friendly strangers. But that dinner together had changed her mind completely about him, especially when they started talking about things that weren't art-related and she began to note things about him.
He seemed to love his job, though she could understand the careful words due to its nature. He loved steak as much as she did. He listened to her, never interrupting even when she had a hard time expressing herself at times. He gave out his opinion and genuinely wanted to know hers.
He had a soft spot for his sister.
And then there was the kissing part. Oh, boy. Jillian had been kissed before, but never like that—never with that quiet kind of intimacy that screamed chemistry between them that she still couldn't believe was real.
And if she was honest with herself, she wanted to explore it more than anything.
At first, she thought it would distract her from work. Instead, she found that it inspired her to work more�
�something Paula noticed during her first few days and was pleased with, complimenting her endlessly about her superb work ethic. The painting was mentioned again, but Jillian evaded the topic and focused on her job, wanting to impress more than anything. She still hadn't made any headway with Mr. Grimshaw, but it wasn't for lack of trying. The man really was rude, especially when he walked off at her compliment about his gallery. Maybe she should just leave that be for now.
Her second date with Jack passed by in a whirl of food and conversation, this time in a different restaurant still near the harbor. The disappointment came when he didn't kiss her on that date. But disappointment turned to pleasure when he asked her on a third date. Then a fourth.
Then, a fifth.
Then it was Friday again, and Jillian was finally getting impatient.
He took her to yet another restaurant, talked about art and books and anything that was normally interesting to her. But there was no kiss, and Jillian realized that her body craved it. Did she do something wrong? Did the kiss turn him off? Did he want to take it slow? Was he really not that interested, after all?
The questions drove her crazy, and Jillian had to scold herself and try to calm down. When dinner was done, she expected him to take her to the taxi stand again and be all polite and charming like he usually was. She was torn between being resigned and wanting to take the step to move things forward.
Before she could decide, Jack took her hand to stop her from walking, turning her towards him.
“Is something the matter?” he asked.
That he could read her brooding even when she tried to hide her thoughts from him spoke of how attuned he was to her. She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.
“Are we friends?”
The question seemed to startle him, but he nodded his head easily. “Of course.”
“Good. Friends can talk to each other.”
“Well, yes. What did you want to talk about?”
“Are we something more?”
The question had him blinking. Jillian stood there as patiently as she could, waiting him out. She was even prepared for the rejection, for him to admit that he was only in it because he’d been curious about her.
