My frown remained but I settled somewhat.
“Look, Gwen, you could have your pick of any guy. I have no doubt of that. You just don’t pick any. It’s not a put-down. You’re a very controlled woman.” He brushed a strand of hair off my face, sending another buzz of awareness through my body. “That’s admirable. A lot of people—most people—would kill for that skill. Control is the solution to weight loss and keeping money in your wallet. It’s something to be proud of no matter what anyone tells you. Me included.”
They were the words I’d been wanting to hear—words that assured me that I was okay like I was, that I didn’t need to change as Norma seemed to think I did. I was flattered and grateful and moved.
But I also sensed an undercurrent of something else to his tone. Condescension, maybe. Arrogance. Or maybe it was simply that I realized that JC’s compliment wasn’t really that complimentary. Because even if control were remarkable, even if other people would kill for that skill, I worried that if I didn’t find a way to sometimes let it go, my control might kill me.
So I was thrown. Again. Caught between being the person who’d banged a stranger in the kitchen and the person who alphabetized her spice cabinet. Caught between wanting JC to say more things like he just had and wanting him to take them all back.
Caught between wanting to tell him to go away for good and wanting him to never go away.
Confused and frustrated, I did what I often blamed Ben of doing—I ran away. I pushed JC out of my personal space, and in case the physical act wasn’t enough, I pushed JC away with words too. “By the way, I’m sorry I derailed your plans the other morning.”
If he was disappointed by my withdrawal, he didn’t let on. “My plans?”
“With Alyssa.” I could barely say her name without it catching in my throat. “You’d said you were waiting for her.” God, I sounded like a jealous girlfriend when I meant to sound exactly the opposite—like someone surrendering, not clutching on.
“Alyssa? You thought I was with Alyssa?” He chuckled. “I didn’t have plans with her. She wanted the number of one of the guys from last week and I dropped by to give it to her.”
“Oh, I assumed.” My tone was cold. While I was more relieved than I’d wanted to be that he wasn’t with Alyssa, I didn’t much appreciate being laughed at.
Before I had a chance to react, JC grabbed me with one hand at the waist and spun me against the lockers. He leaned close, his mouth inches from my lips, his body caging mine in. “Don’t assume, Gwen. It doesn’t become you.”
“You know you’re kind of an ass.” Damn, I wanted to kiss him. And then smack him. Then possibly kiss him some more.
“Yes. I really am.” His breath tickled against my lips and I held my own breath, waiting for him to move in. Waiting for his mouth to cover mine. Instead, he kept talking. “Mostly, Gwen, I just don’t want you to think you have anything to be jealous of. She is definitely not who I want.”
I didn’t know what to say. Or do. But as the seconds ticked by, it became apparent that he wanted me to make the next move. He wanted me to kiss him.
I wanted to—I so, so wanted to.
But I just couldn’t. When I’d jumped him before, I’d been half-crazy with grief and worry. I had an excuse for acting irrationally. Now, I didn’t. Now, if I kissed him, if I made a move of any kind, well, it would be a conscious choice. And while I’d flirted with the idea of more with him, I didn’t know if I could actually make that firm of a decision.
He sensed it in me. His eyes fell first, and I thought I might have caught a flash of disappointment in his expression, but perhaps I was flattering myself. Then he stepped back, setting me free from his all-male prison. “Well, that’s all I had. I should let you get back to work. If there’s anything, ever, that you need…”
It was the last invitation he’d give me. I don’t know how I knew it, but I knew it clear as crystal. And I ached inside, wishing I had the strength to be someone else. Wishing I was the kind of person who didn’t think too much or too hard or too long.
Wishing I could do more than watch him leave.
He was almost gone when it happened. I called after him. “JC!”
I waited until he spun back toward me before I went on, mostly because I had no idea in hell what I was going to say. When I spoke, the words were automatic. “Your offer—did you mean it?”
His brow furrowed questioningly.
“You said before that you could help me. Help me be less tense.” My words fell out in a rush partly because I was suddenly full of adrenaline and partly because I was afraid I would stop myself if I slowed down. “Did you mean it?”
JC smiled in a way that was half-taunting and all hot as hell. “Gwen, if you’re asking if I’m willing to pop your cork again, the answer is yes, I very much am. Additionally, I’m willing to help you relax.”
“You’ll help me relax with fucking?” Norma would be so proud.
“And other things.” He grinned like a man who had caught his long-hunted prey, and my pulse kicked up from both fear and excitement. “Did I mean it when I offered it? Yes. I did. I do. Is it something you’d like to talk more about?”
“I think I would.” I wanted to sound surer than that because I was surer than that, so I corrected myself. “I would like to talk more about it.”
“I’ll take you to lunch tomorrow.” His tone was final. He may have been tentative before, when I’d still been indecisive, but once I’d admitted my interest, he took control.
Surprisingly, I liked that. It was strangely comforting to not to have to worry about something even though it also felt foreign. But this was what I wanted. So I’d let him make our plans.
Except for one thing. “I don’t do lunches.” If JC were going to be in my world, it would have to be on my schedule.
“Of course you don’t, I wasn’t thinking. That’s fine. We can work with that.” His tone suggested he was talking about more than just the date we were currently planning. “We’ll do breakfast. I’ll pick you up here at six.”
He left then, and in complete opposition to the morning I’d heard about Ben when I’d felt numb and frozen, I was overwhelmed with emotions. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to scream or squeal or laugh or cry. I felt like a pressure cooker ready to burst.
For better or worse, I’d done it—two impulsive things in less than a week.
Somehow I had a feeling this was just the beginning.
Chapter Six
I had no idea what JC meant when he said “I’ll pick you up,” and I half-feared he’d show up in a car and take me someplace fancy. That wasn’t what I wanted from our meeting. I wanted a conversation, not a date. Also, I didn’t want anyone at the club seeing me leave with him and starting rumors.
But I needn’t have worried. When I walked out the back door, JC was standing a few yards away, casually leaning against the side of the next building and not at all appearing to be waiting for me. He was dressed in jeans now, and a tailored gray wool coat that fit him so perfectly it made my stomach flip-flop. He nodded at me inconspicuously as I said goodnight to the other closing manager who took off in the other direction toward the subway.
Then I headed over to meet JC.
We didn’t say anything as he led me a couple of blocks down to Café Angelique. It was cold and still fairly dark, but between our brisk pace and my hyperactive hormones, the temperature barely fazed me. By the time we arrived at our destination, my cheeks were flushed and my heart was beating, and I was grateful to be able to blame it on our walk.
At the café, we ordered breakfast—quiches and coffee—and found a table in the back. I waited until we’d stripped our coats and gloves, noting that the blue of JC’s sweater brought out his eyes, before diving into conversation. “So…your offer.”
With a smile, he shook his head. “You can’t even enjoy five minutes of just hanging out before jumping in, can you? No wonder you need me.”
Actually, it had been closer to ten
minutes, twelve even, if you counted the walk over. I pursed my lips, trying to decide if I should correct him or not. Also, there was the irksome you need me remark. It was the latter that I addressed, borrowing a variation of the words he’d said to be earlier. “Don’t be so cocky. It doesn’t become you.”
“Touché,” he said with a grin. “But, really, I don’t think it bothers you very much. My cocky, I mean.” He emphasized the cock, which was totally juvenile, but also sort of cute.
I bit back a smile. “Somehow I don’t think you’re using the term in the same way I was.”
“You are like one-hundred percent uptight, aren’t you?” It was amazing how he could say something like that without coming across as a total douche. He was abrupt, yes. He was bold. But it was evident his motivation was curiosity, not cruelty.
So instead of snapping back at him—my first impulse—I attempted humor. “Ninety-nine percent. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that small window.”
“Thank God for that.”
His serious response, paired with the intense heat from his stare, shook me. I shivered, not feeling chilled in the least.
His eyes blazed at my reaction. All night as I’d worked my shift, I’d wondered what our meeting would be like—friendly, banal, sensual, or flirtatious. It was in this moment that I realized that whatever happened from then on, whatever else occurred between us, my encounters with JC would be nothing if not electric.
As far as I was concerned, we were here to discuss a repeat of the other morning. Now I knew there was a very probable chance that the repeat would happen before this morning was over.
The epiphany was exciting. And it strangely relaxed me.
JC looked away first, taking a bite of his quiche. I followed his lead. He watched me while he ate, studied me. I couldn’t be so bold, so I snuck in my glances. His eyes weren’t just blue, I realized. They had flecks of gray and I imagined the prominent color shifted with what he wore. When he put the coat on again, I wondered if they would seem less blue.
Mostly, I wondered about his body. I’d only ever seen him covered, but his outfits so far had been tailored and fitted to him. He was obviously fit—I just didn’t know how fit. He’d carried me easily when he’d lifted me to the table in the kitchen. I suspected he was impressively toned underneath his clothes. Just imagining how toned brought a flush to my skin that I hoped he’d attribute to the coffee I was drinking.
It wasn’t until we’d completed nearly all of our breakfast that he finally dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and said, “Okay, my offer to help you be less tense. Are you ready? It’s simple.” He spread his arms out like it was obvious. “Spend time with me.”
“And?” Because I’d expected his offer to be something more explicitly carnal.
“And that’s it.”
I wiped at my own mouth and took another sip of my coffee, trying to decide what it was that bothered me about his offer. Then I figured it out. “That sounds a little like dating.”
“No.” He drew the “o” out, shaking his head. Admittedly, it was nice to see him worked up for once, instead of vice versa. “Definitely not dating. In fact, no commitments.”
“Because you’re a commitment-phobe. How cliché.” Not that I cared. In fact, I counted on it. Just, somehow, sitting there with JC, poking and teasing came easier than usual. Maybe he was right that spending time with him was the answer to all my problems.
“No, not because I’m a commitment-phobe, though that’s not entirely inaccurate. But this is about helping you let loose and commitments are designed to do just the opposite.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Okay. So I just spend time with you. Not dating. No commitments. I’m cool with that.”
“Good. Look at you. Loosening up already.” He ignored the scowl I shot at him. “Now, we both have weird schedules so we’ll need to set up a time for a standing date. Or not-date.”
“Isn’t a standing anything a flat-out commitment?” I’d been the one to initiate this…whatever this was between us, and now I was the one who kept coming up with arguments. I heard myself doing it. But it wasn’t like I was looking for an excuse for the “whatever” not to happen. Just, I’d been burned before in a casual arrangement. This time there was going to be no doubt about the terms going in.
“I knew that was coming. And, yes.” He pointed in the air with a long finger. “It is a commitment. But it’s the only commitment we’ll have in this. And either of us can always cancel.”
I rolled my hands along the sides of the coffee cup, busying myself, steadying my nerves. “I’m listening.”
“So, I don’t actually live in New York. I live in L.A.”
My eyes flew up to his. “Oh. I didn’t know that.” I tried not to sound disappointed. He had the Viper booked every Tuesday, but I supposed that didn’t mean that he was actually present every week. So how often was he in town?
As if reading my mind, he said, “I’m here every week. For work. I take a red-eye to New York on Monday, and Thursday night I take a red-eye back.”
Thank the Lord. While I was curious about what he did for a living that had him working on two coasts, it was another part of his statement that struck me. “But today is Friday.”
“I skipped my flight last night.”
My stomach flipped. “Why?”
“For you.”
I felt the color leave my face. There was no denying the rush that came from his admission, but another part of me, the smart part, was ready to take that adrenaline and run. I wanted casual. I wanted strings-free. I didn’t want changing-my-routine-for-you.
JC leaned over and placed his hand on mine, sending a mess of tingles shooting through my body. Red alert, my rational side screamed. Take your recently rediscovered sex drive out the door and head to the Pleasure Chest to pick up a new dildo.
Not for the first time in my life, it occurred to me that there was probably something very wrong with me. Besides being completely uptight. Because, what girl in her right mind wanted her sexual relationships to be only physical, no emotion?
Yet that was exactly what I wanted. I was hardened. I’d accepted that long before. There was exactly enough room inside me to love my brother and my sister and nothing else. No one else. Everyone else I’d ever felt strong emotions for had beaten me, left me, or died. Of course I knew that my past experiences didn’t dictate my future. The next person I cared for might not disappoint me—of course I knew that; I was a smart woman. But I wasn’t ever going to take that chance.
And emotional involvement from one party in a duo and not the other was messy. I’d been there, done that. Wasn’t doing it again.
JC gently squeezed my hand. “Gwen, stop freaking. I’m horny, not in love.”
I narrowed my eyes, studying him, trying to ignore the burn of his hand still covering mine. “So you skipped your flight in order to get laid?” It was hard to believe he couldn’t just as easily get laid in L.A.
Unless it was specifically me who had him turned on.
“Pretty much.”
It was me then. Well. Wow. I couldn’t help smiling. So it was over the top to stay for me, but not the craziest thing I’d heard a guy do for sex. And as long as it wasn’t wrapped up in touchy-feely, I could live with it. “Very well then. Carry on.”
JC seemed mildly surprised that I was so easily convinced. “Okay. Now we’re talking.” He removed his hand from mine to gesture as he spoke. “So if this is going to work, there are a few things we have to agree on up front.”
“Right.” Still dizzy from his warmth, I pulled my hand from the table to my lap. If I left it, I was afraid he’d realize how badly I hoped he’d touch me again. And this time not just on my hand.
He seemed oblivious to what was going on with my libido, which was crazy since it was exactly what we were discussing. “First and foremost, we’re just spending time together.”
“Time that involves sex.” The space between my thighs was beginning
to itch. I wanted to get through the talking and get to the actual doing.
“Well, yes.”
That tiny acknowledgment made my stomach quiver, deep and low.
Then he was back to hammering out the details. “There will be no relationship stuff. No boyfriend/girlfriend. No getting attached. Are you with me?”
“Yes. I’m completely with you. I have no interest in attachments of any sort.” I hadn’t expected anything else from a guy like JC, but after his earlier remarks that had sounded to the contrary, the confirmation was a relief.
“Are you sure? I really don’t want you falling in love with me. It wouldn’t be pretty.”
Again with the arrogance. Why did he make hubris look so sexy? “Rest assured, JC. There is nothing you could do to make me fall in love with you.” I had very few emotions I indulged in. Romance was definitely not in my repertoire.
“Good. I just wanted to be clear up front. Now I’m going to propose something that might seem extreme, but bear with me. The no commitment will be easier if we keep what we know of each other to a minimum. First names only. Exchanging phone numbers is okay, maybe, but no home addresses or Facebook-friending. Are you good with that?”
I paused and let the idea rattle in my head. It was extreme, and there was only one reason I could think of for him to insist on that. “Ah, Jesus Christ. You’re married, aren’t you?” While that made him less likely to get attached, I did not do infidelity.
Except maybe I had done infidelity, since I’d already fucked him. Ah, fucknugget.
But JC was already protesting. “No, no, no, no. I am not married, Gwen. Not. Married. I swear on whatever you think is holy that I have no wife, fiancée, girlfriend. Nothing. I’m a non-commitment guy all around. Come on, do you really see me any other way?”
I could almost imagine it—could see him as a protective caretaker and a doting partner. He’d shown those qualities to me in our brief interactions and it wasn’t a stretch to envisage him doing that for someone he loved.
But then there were the other parts of him. When it came down to it—even though he could be sweet—no, I did not see him as the type to commit. At all. Ever. “Then why so secretive?”
Free Me Page 8
