by Erica Penrod
Jamon let go and walked over to the window. “Wow, I’ve got to admit this is pretty spectacular.”
“I’m having trouble finding the words for it.” She came up beside him. “I have to be honest with you. At first I was angry with you because I thought you were trying to buy my forgiveness.”
Jamon turned to her and gazed into her eyes. “Money just allows me to be a little more creative. If I were still a poor boy from Texas, I would’ve picked you some wildflowers and told you how sorry I was for acting like a jerk. Then I’d have taken you to an art museum, because I know you’d love it and I wouldn’t look at anything but you.” His face flushed. “And I’m sorry for how I treated you. That’s not acceptable under any circumstances, and I promise to never to do that again.”
Gemma reached out and took his hand. An electric current ran through her veins. “For the record, the wildflowers and the art museum would be more than enough. Even a simple ‘I’m sorry’ is all I need.”
“I’ll remember that.” Jamon didn’t take his eyes off her. “Odds are, I’ll make you madder than a wet hen sooner or later.”
“Probably, although I’m not sure how mad a wet hen is.” Gemma tilted her head and drew in a breath. The man in front of her was the most attractive piece in the room because he was so good. So very good. His motivations in all his endeavors were pure. She knew what she wanted. “Remember the conversation we had about not crossing professional lines?”
Jamon withdrew his hand. “I’m sorry. I promised you I wouldn’t.”
She took his hand and smiled. “You said you wouldn’t unless I asked you to, but I’m pretty sure flying me to New York and putting me up in a penthouse burst over the line.”
His head dropped. “I know, you’re right. I shouldn’t—”
Gemma pressed her finger to his lips. She knew it wasn’t right, but she enjoyed making the man squirm just a little. “Sshhh, it’s okay. I’m asking you to.”
His jaw went slack as she dropped her hand. A quizzical look filled his face. She bit her lip and bobbed her head up and down, waiting for the understanding to dawn.
All at once, his hand cupped her face, his heady scent filled her head, and the longing in his eyes made her body fill with heat. She wrapped her arms around his waist, felt his taut muscles, and her knees weakened. Jamon leaned in and touched his lips softly to hers as he negotiated the territory of her mouth. Jamon dropped his hand from her face, and she reached up, putting her arms around his neck. She entwined her fingers through the ends of his hair, feeling the softness between her fingertips. He tasted her mouth, then retreated, making her crave him more. Then, all at once, he indulged.
Her heart raced in her chest as Jamon kissed her with more fervor than she’d ever known. She felt desired and wanted, but there was something about the way he took his time before he rushed anything. As if he measured each movement and each touch of his lips by her response, as if he cared about what she wanted … as if he cared about her. He put his hands on her hips, and she relished the feel of his strong hands on her, never having experienced so much emotion conveyed through a kiss. She forgot about rules, schedules, and everything else—everything except him.
Chapter Eleven
Jamon stood next to the grand piano and adjusted his sleeves, turning them so his cuff links lined up. A slow burn still heated the blood in his veins from the kiss he’d shared with Gemma. The feel of her mouth on his, the flavor of her lips, and the liquid desire that poured over him nearly dropped him to the floor. Her body felt lithe and powerful, like he believed it would. He’d studied her legs whenever she wore skirts enough to notice their muscular form, along with the toned flesh of her arms. Jamon had dreamt about what she’d feel like wrapped up in his arms, and now he knew. He was like a man stranded in the desert after partaking of an oasis, and his thirst could only be quenched by her kiss.
Gemma squealed from the other room, interrupting his thoughts. He chuckled as he imagined she’d opened her closet to find the dress he’d bought her instead of the one she thought Sophia had taken to the cleaners for her.
A few minutes later, Gemma appeared in the living room. What he couldn’t have foreseen, in his wildest dreams, was how beautiful the dress looked on her.
“This is an Oscar De La Renta.” She ran her hands over the green satin dress and turned to touch the ruffled back. “It fits me perfectly.”
“That it does.” Jamon swallowed the knot in his throat and fought the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her. She’d just spent the last hour getting ready and probably didn’t want to mess up her makeup.
Gemma looked up at him with an almost feral look in her eyes as she sauntered over to him. “You are amazing.” She reached up and pulled him to her. Gemma kissed him, letting him taste the mint of her mouth and feel the fire in her touch. She led, and he followed, and he’d never been so completely lost. She was so unlike any woman he’d ever known before, and what he felt was more than attraction. He wanted to know everything about her and do anything he could to bring a smile to her face.
She finally drew back, and they both gasped for air. Jamon put his hands on his hips. “Just so you know, I don’t care how good you say the ballet is. If you kiss me like that again, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you, except to the couch for more some more of that.”
“Believe me, I’m sorely tempted, but I can’t imagine what you spent on last-minute tickets, and I don’t want to waste it.”
“It’s just money.”
“You know …” She gave him a once-over. “I think I’ve figured you out.” Gemma smiled, spinning his world around. “At least part of you—I’m not sure I’ll ever understand the way you talk. But I’ve decided that you don’t like to spend money on yourself, yet you’d spend every dime you have on someone else if you thought it would help them or make them happy.”
“That’s not necessarily true. I love my barn and my horses, and I don’t mind spending some serious cash when it comes to my obsession.” And he had no problem dropping fifty grand on a hotel if he got to spend more time with Gemma.
“Maybe so, but the only reason you’ve got the house and are trying to fit into the lifestyle is because you know it will benefit your research.” Gemma kissed him on the cheek. “You are one in a million, Jamon West.”
He smiled as he choked back his emotions; that’s what his momma used to say to him. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he took Gemma’s words as a sign. Like it was his angel momma telling him Gemma was the one.
* * *
Gemma took Jamon’s hand as he helped her to her seat. With all the excitement of the surprise flight to New York and the ballet tickets, she hadn’t thought about how being back in the David Koch Theater, participating as an audience member instead of dancing as Giselle, might affect her until this moment.
She knew what was happening behind the curtain, the controlled chaos of last-minute makeup touches, costume adjustments, and stage managers checking off their lists. Performers warming up and stretching their limbs with nervous jitters already dancing in their bellies.
Sadness at what might’ve been crept up in her mind and threatened to steal the spotlight of this special night. Yet when she looked up at Jamon, whose eyes captured the soft glow of the theater and held her gaze, there was nothing but happiness in her soul. Gemma had known her career as a professional dancer was over for a while now, but she’d never imagined that she’d find anything or anyone to fill the empty space in her heart and her life. How could she regret the turn of events that led her to this man who’d taken her to places she’d never dreamed of before? And yet, the idea of loving again frightened her. When Jamon sat beside her and took her hand in his, she knew having something to lose meant she was finally living again.
* * *
The New York City lights lit up the night sky. Jamon was sure the skyline view from the balcony on the fifty-second floor was what people dropped some serious cash for, but to be honest, nothing compared to t
he view he was looking at. Even if he sat on the tailgate of his truck beneath an overcast Seattle sky and not in this high-rise building, with Gemma in her jogging pants and T-shirt sitting beside him, she’d still outshine this New York City night. She could captivate him for hours.
The evening had been perfect. He enjoyed the ballet more than he’d ever imagined possible. Knowing how much Gemma loved the ballet and how dance had once been her life intrigued him, and he wanted to be part of her world. The way her eyes filled with wonder as the performers leaped and twirled across the stage was infectious. But nothing amazed him more than the way his heart thumped in his chest every time Gemma looked at him.
He wanted to be near her all the time, but he was afraid he’d frighten her if he moved too fast. Heck, he was scared out of his mind just admitting his emotions to himself, so there was no telling how she might take his declaration. Therefore, he decided to slow things down. That was easier said than done, because he’d never felt this way about a woman. His deepening feelings made no sense, considering he’d only known her for such a short amount of time.
“Thank you for tonight.” Gemma squeezed his hand as they huddled close to one another on the outdoor furniture. “This has been the most amazing night of my life in so many ways.” She gazed over at him, and he hoped the lights weren’t playing tricks on his eyes. Her face was filled with the same joy he’d witnessed at the ballet, only now she was looking at him.
He wanted to believe Gemma felt the same way about him as he did about her, but it was too soon to know. He’d have to be patient. As his momma used to tell him on a regular basis, “Patience was not his virtue,” and he fretted at the idea. Jamon was a grown man and could give this, whatever it was, more time like any mature adult would do. But heck, he was a billionaire, and billionaires were notorious for audacious wants and needs. He smiled to himself. Maybe he didn’t have to be patient after all.
“It’s been incredible.” He leaned in and kissed her as he caressed her cheek. She opened her eyes and stared into his. And there it was, the problem with moving too fast. Gemma wouldn’t buy the billionaire playboy act. He had a feeling she didn’t care about his money and saw the man he was behind the bank account. There was no buying his way into her heart, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.
Chapter Twelve
Gemma couldn’t remember the last time she was this happy. Not since she’d stopped dancing. New York had been a fairy tale come true. Jamon, the ballet, her parents, everything had been perfect. The most enchanting part of it all was that it hadn’t ended, not even when the landing gear touched the ground in Seattle.
That had been over a week ago, and she and Jamon had rarely been apart since. She still scheduled, organized, and kept Jamon’s public persona in shape through social media posts and press releases about the progress of his research facility. But at home, when he wore a T-shirt and jeans, Gemma didn’t want to change a thing. They spent the days working, Gemma in her office and Jamon usually outside with the yard and barn, and in the evenings they rode horses.
The only thing that would make her happier was for the research facility to be completed. Jamon couldn’t wait to get back to the lab, and the only thing that seemed to fill the void created by a lack of test tubes and microscope slides was learning. He’d started his online classes to finish up his degree. Gemma found a billionaire with homework a humorous concept.
“Hey, beautiful.” Jamon knocked on her open office door. “You got plans for tomorrow?”
She relaxed back in her chair. “Saturday, no. I think my boss is giving me the day off.” Her heart picked up the pace when the scent of his cologne filled her head, taking her back to the feel of his lips on hers, and heat rippled through her body. He crossed his arms and the muscles in his forearms flexed. Now that she knew what it felt like to be wrapped up in those arms, with his strong body against hers, she found it difficult to concentrate if she let her mind inch that direction. The only way to stop it was to stare at anything other than the beautiful man in front of her, and even then, there were no guarantees. Her job got a lot harder after that first kiss.
“Cool, because my hot assistant said I don’t have anything scheduled either, and I wondered if you wanted to go for a horse ride out through the back five?”
Gemma grinned. The back five made up the corner acres of Jamon’s lot. He left it in its natural state, except for the trails he’d cleared to get the horses through. There were trees and scrub bushes, wildflowers and sweet grasses. “I would love that.” She’d been surprised by the way she looked forward to riding the horses. Now that Gemma was mostly comfortable around the majestic animals, she found tranquility in their presence and riding relaxed her body and soul. She breathed more deeply and any tension she’d had dissipated as she climbed into the saddle, making her long to ride as often as she could. If Jamon happened to be beside her, she knew she was about to canter through paradise, no matter the weather.
Jamon walked in, leaned across the desk, and Gemma met him halfway. He kissed her softly. “Did I mention how hot my assistant is?”
“You might’ve mentioned it once or twice.” She pressed her mouth to his. Who needed a job, anyway? Gemma enjoyed this so much more than organizing Jamon’s schedule.
“Hmm, hmm.” Someone interrupted them.
Gemma looked over Jamon’s shoulder and found Waylon standing there. His coloring looked better than the first week he’d arrived, but he still didn’t look her in the eye for long. “Sorry for the intrusion.”
The muscle in Jamon’s jaw clenched before he turned around. “What do you want?”
Waylon was leaving the next day. Jamon had told Gemma he’d arranged to have him flown back to Texas on his private jet, called an old family friend and got Waylon a job at a ranch. He hadn’t asked her to help and coordinated everything on his own. Gemma hated the way Waylon hurt Jamon just by walking in the room, like he experienced flashbacks and suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. He’d told her small parts of what he dealt with because of his brother, enough that she understood it was a cycle that took its toll.
“I just wanted to double-check what time my flight leaves.”
“Tomorrow at noon.”
“Okay.” Waylon left.
Jamon ran his fingers through his hair. “I will be glad when I know he’s back in Texas and working.”
“I know.” Gemma wasn’t sure what to say when it came to Waylon. She read what she could on dealing with addiction, but that only made her feel worse for Jamon. There weren’t any clear answers, nothing to put in a box and check off when completed. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“Just be here.” His gaze wandered out the window. “Did you know Waylon is the reason I worked so hard to develop Injectshox?”
“No.” Gemma closed her laptop. Jamon shared very few things about Waylon with her, and she didn’t press the issue.
“He was the one driving when the car accident happened. For some reason, he survived and they didn’t. I’d stayed after school for the science fair, and they were on their way to pick me up. They were on the highway when the car had a tire blowout. Waylon overcorrected and rolled the car. He busted up his leg pretty bad.”
Gemma’s heart hurt as Jamon’s voice quivered with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
Jamon continued to look out the window. “Waylon had surgery and recovered, but he struggled with guilt. Our house was on the McAllisters’ ranch, so they kept an eye on us and agreed to let us stay, mostly because Howard was there too.” He paused and crossed his arms. “Waylon was only eighteen, and I was fifteen. He went to counseling, but nothing seemed to work until Howard gave him Flash. She was a three-year-old mare, and Howard told Waylon she was his as long he worked with her every day. Slowly, my brother got better, and I thought things were going to be okay—until Flash fell with Waylon and the horse broke her leg.”
Gemma covered her mouth with her hands to keep from gasping.
“They had to put her down. I’ve never seen my brother okay since.”
“Jamon, that’s horrible.”
He looked back at her, his eyes swimming with tears. “The worst part was, Waylon reinjured his leg in that fall. That’s when the addiction started.”
She got up and went to him. Gemma wrapped her arms around his middle. She wished she could take his pain away but knew that was impossible. The hardest battles were often fought within one’s own mind, and letting go of the past, accepting what you can’t change, and moving forward were the only ways through things. Because life was such that you may never get over a heartache, but you could get through it. She could comfort him and let him know she was there for him.
“If I’d been able to save Flash. I would’ve been able to save my brother.”
“You can’t blame yourself.” She stroked the back of his head. “You don’t know what would’ve happened. Something else could’ve triggered the addiction.”
“I don’t know.” He pulled back and reached for a tissue on her desk. “But I’m glad Injectshox is out there to help others and their animals.”
“Me too.”
“I bet I look like a real tough cowboy right now.” He smiled at her, his eyes still full of sadness.
“You’ve never looked better. A man with a heart like yours is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Chapter Thirteen
Saturday was clear and beautiful. Gemma pulled down her ball cap and climbed up on Butterscotch. If she could’ve seen herself a little over a month ago, she’d have never believed it. Jamon was the reason she wanted to get out of bed every day and rush into work, but there was something about the other male in her life—Butterscotch, who filled the empty void of ballet. Gemma watched training and riding videos, eager to try the things she learned. With ballet, there was a sense of mastery when the steps flowed correctly. She got the same rush when she and Butterscotch moved in sync, when she gave a command and he responded.
