I had no idea what to say. “I’m fine, Jack.”
“What he said wasn’t.”
“You broke his camera.”
“He’s lucky that’s all I broke.”
He jammed the car in a higher gear and headed for the highway. I thought he would settle down, but every agonizing mile only pumped him more. I knew he had a temper, but he white-knuckle gripped the wheel. Was he really that upset on my behalf?
I didn’t ask where we were going. He drove me out of the city and took the exit for Teagan Heights.
This was a section of town where I didn’t belong. There, the houses were worth millions, and the men inside worth ten times that.
Jack took me to his house.
The mansion wasn’t the gaudy palace I expected, but it was gated, huge, and wrapped with a pool, hot tub, and evergreen trees to offer privacy. He pulled into a ten car garage. Only four of the bays were filled. A Mercedes, one motorcycle he was restoring, a totaled classic car, and an old Toyota. Jack stormed past it, but I pointed. He didn’t look.
“My dad’s old car.”
He waited for me at the door to the house. I remembered his file. “Your dad passed away?”
“Day of the league draft.” He toughened, intentionally, hiding the pain. “He didn’t live to see the Rivets take me. Come in.”
Jack’s extravagant living room was too classy for both of us. The parlor was a fancy, untouched slice of what a millionaire was supposed to like, complete with chandeliers and paisley patterns. He showed me the kitchen and dining room with a wave of his hand, but he steered clear of the sitting room that had probably gone unused since he purchased the home.
His den was downstairs, and it was a true man cave. He installed a wet bar and leather seats, a fireplace and every game system imaginable for the wall sized TV. It was dim, cozy, and served as an award room. He didn’t hang trophies and accolades, but jerseys and photographs. I lingered near the newspaper articles from his high school and the letters from old teachers and friends who congratulated him on everything from his college bowl games to getting drafted by the one of the most prestigious teams in the league.
This was the real Jack, but even in his familiar setting, he hadn’t recovered his temper. He poured a drink and downed it immediately. He had another before offering me anything with a grunt.
“Jack, it’s okay,” I said.
“He called you a slut.” He abandoned the hard liquor and opened a beer instead. The bottle shook in his hand. “I’ve been with a lot of girls. Most of them are easy, but you aren’t like them. I won’t let anyone talk about you like that.”
I wished my heart hadn’t fluttered a little harder. “I can handle my own PR.”
“That wasn’t good PR. He just wanted to snap a picture of me getting in trouble with a new girl.”
I raised an eyebrow. “But that’s exactly what we want. People have to see us together. Those pictures will sell the story. It’ll be proof that we’re a real couple.”
And the kiss the reporter captured on camera was evidence enough, damning or otherwise. Every part of my body still buzzed with the intoxication of Jack’s lips. My skin heated. My tummy flipped. Parts of me that should never have pulsed for a man like Jack suddenly came alive.
“We aren’t telling people like that,” he said. “Not with a big fucking headline calling you a slut. Christ, I’ve tried to get you into bed since the day I hired your damn company. If you’re a slut, you’re the slowest score I’ve ever had.”
“Isn’t that sweet.”
He set the beer on the bar and walked to me—long, confident strides that trapped me before I could position the couch between us. “Look, Kiss. I’m a little…protective of you.”
“Since when?”
“Since some asshole photographer with a blog decided to flash a camera in your face!” Jack bit his words. I pretended not to flinch, but he saw. Apologized. “You aren’t some random girl with me. Even if this wasn’t fake, even if we were a legit…you’re not like the other girls. You’re…Kiss. You’re Leah.”
I swallowed. It didn’t help. It was the first time in a year he actually called me by my real name.
I had no idea he was so protective, so valiant to defend my honor.
Craziest part of all? I don’t think he realized it either.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He stood so close, close enough to shield me with his muscular body from any threat to my virtue in this world—except for him. I looked up, meeting the stunning gaze of his eyes, the striking blue pinning me in place.
“Did I ruin the night?” he asked.
“It won’t be a good morning when the story breaks…” I didn’t move as he reached for me. “And now I’m expecting a call from Jolene or the league or the police…but I don’t think you ruined anything.”
His hands fit over my waist, tugging me closer to him. His words rumbled deep inside me, shuddering my core, my heart, my mind. Nothing made sense this close to Jack Carson.
I had no idea he could even touch someone so gently.
“I lost a chance at my dance.” His voice melted me again.
“You were trying to seduce me.”
“Was it working?”
Like he couldn’t tell by how eagerly I’d parted my lips and accepted his kiss. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“We’re not dating.”
His hand trailed over my side, twisting in my dress, edging the hem into his curling fingers. “What’s the problem?”
“It’ll get too complicated.”
“Like faking a relationship isn’t complicated…” He leaned down, skipping my lips and aiming for my neck. “We can still be professional.”
I held my breath, capturing his spicy cedar scent. “There’s nothing professional about sex.”
“Sex is just sex, Kiss.”
“Not to me.”
His lips traced along my neck, nipping where my pulse beat and delighting me with every shiver he could force through my body. “That’s no fun. Sometimes you just gotta fuck. Ever felt like that before?”
No, but I was starting to.
Still, that didn’t make it right. Or good. Or anything I should have wanted from playboy Jack Carson and his conquests.
“I won’t be just another girl you take home,” I said.
“Afraid of being the one I keep here?”
Yes, because it would never happen. A man like Jack was trouble, especially when my life was already in shambles. The only plan I had anymore was to slink home and soak in the tub. I often pretended I hadn’t received the engagement announcement from Wyatt and my former best friend. Jennifer was pregnant.
She had conceived while I still wore the ring Wyatt gave me.
Jack wanted sex for sex.
I looked for stability. A relationship. The promise of romance, marriage, world-wide travels. Kids.
We couldn’t have been more wrong for each other. No one would believe we were dating.
But my head fell back. I offered him another taste of my neck. The shiver was distressing.
Amazing.
His kiss fluttered my eyes closed, and, for a long moment, I imagined what it might be like to be swept in Jack’s embrace. To let myself go. To take that desire and have sex for…fun. For pleasure. For myself.
I twisted, meeting his lips. The kiss was as sensual as the one in the restaurant, as powerful and confusing and absolutely necessary. His tongue flicked once, twice against mine, and every stroke shocked me completely, buzzing deep into places I wasn’t prepared to admit.
He loomed until the back of my knees struck the couch. Jack pinned me with the promise of something so frighteningly sexy I might’ve crashed into the leather from the sheer anticipation of where else he might’ve touched, kissed, explored.
“Such a bad idea…” I whispered. “We can’t.”
“Yes, we can.” Jack’s fingers tangled in the hem of my dress. “What would it hurt?”
“It’d ruin everything. We have a professional relationship…”