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Why did it sound like she was cramming as many words as she could into one sentence?
He took the mimosa and downed it in one gulp.
“Oh!” she said in surprise, reaching her hand out. “I can get you another.”
He nodded and she refilled his glass.
He noticed she didn’t make herself one.
“So what kind of jobs are you looking into?”
She seemed to be avoiding his eyes deliberately.
Surely, he’d toned down the predatory gaze he’d undoubtedly frightened her with earlier?
“I’m pretty open to a number of possibilities. Let me grab your bedding.”
She disappeared, returning with a comforter and a pillow, looking apologetic.
“I wasn’t expecting company, and I haven’t yet built up a linen supply so it’s just these…”
“You don’t need to keep apologizing for having just moved here and living within your means, Maribel. I’m very grateful you have taken me in for the night, and the couch and this bedding will do just fine. Seriously—you have already done more than I could have asked for.”
She seemed to relax, smiling at him in a way that twisted him again.
What was it about her that made him feel so warm and sort of tingly all at once? Like he would do anything to please her?
She was irresistibly cute, no doubt, but that smile—it made him feel…accomplished for having teased it out of her.
How silly was that? Getting such joy from seeing her smile that way?
How on earth could he be so invested in her happiness? Her opinion of him?
How was it he suddenly felt like he had some schoolyard crush?
He needed another drink.
He indicated his empty glass. “Do you have anything stronger by any chance?”
“What, vodka? Scotch? I’ll make sure to have those ready in case this happens again.”
Jealousy and possessiveness suddenly raged through him.
The thought of her opening her home to another man like this...
“I’ll have another glass of mimosa if you don’t mind.”
“You mean another shot? The way you’ve been downing them…”
He watched her make his third drink.
“You shouldn’t just do this for people,” he said as she handed him the refill.
It seemed she snickered a little, but he wasn’t sure.
He hadn’t slurred or anything, had he?
Then he remembered he hadn’t eaten after he’d thrown up earlier, and that he’d already been drinking when he met her at the bar.
“Letting strange men into your home—not smart.”
“I’m aware. It’s just...like I said, I went with my gut and it said you’re all right.”
“You’re lucky I am, but the city is a dangerous place for women like you.”
Her brow furrowed.
“You shouldn’t be so trusting,” he continued. “Promise me you won’t do this again.”
This time, she definitely giggled.
But this wasn’t funny!
She was being nice to him, but in her naïveté, she had no idea the position she put herself in, and he meant to tell her all about how careless her kind actions were again and again till she understood, but the alcohol was finally, mercifully, starting to kick in.
“I promise,” she said solemnly, her eyes twinkling as she put a hand on her chest and held up two—or three—fingers.
God damn, she was beautiful.
He wanted nothing more than to pull her to him and take her in his arms, wrapping her in them and holding her close.
He wanted to feel her soft curves against his hard planes, sniff her hair and take in her overall scent.
She looked like she smelled like strawberries.
He wanted to tilt her chin up, bring his lips to hers.
“We can talk more tomorrow if you’d like—if you’re still here, I mean,” she said suddenly.
He realized she was getting ready to retreat to her bedroom—a room that was a mere five or so feet away from where he’d be sleeping. A room that he wanted to see the inside of more than anything else in the world right now, with her in it. On the bed.
Stop it, Jim—get your mind out of the gutter.
“What are your plans?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Tomorrow, the next day…”
“I have more interviews and prep to do. Maybe a little shopping for vodka…”
She smiled at him again, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile back.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
Her smile wiped away clean, and he was sorry he’d spoken until he realized her eyes still held a spark—plus something else he couldn’t quite pin down but was definitely in his favor.
Was it hope? Hope for what?
“Good night, Jim Craig. You’re a bit tipsy, so I’ll let that slide.”
“I mean it, though.”
She shook her head a little.
“Anyway, we’ve both had a long day and I look forward to hearing more about…whatever you want to tell me. Tomorrow. I’m afraid I accidentally put you out of commission enabling your desire for more spirits. Do you want me to help tuck you in?”
She had asked it almost mockingly so he knew she was kidding, but he’d be damned if he didn’t watch her try.
“I’d love it,” he said, trying to suppress a grin.
She looked startled.
He shrugged. “Like you said, I’m tipsy, so I probably need help getting ready for bed.”
She disappeared momentarily, and he thought she’d silently denied his request, but she returned with hangars, eyeing his tux.
She gingerly stepped closer and closer to him, then moved to help him out of his jacket.
Her hands brushing his arms fed the flame inside of him, and he tried to concentrate on the textures in her floor tiles as her fingers slid over his limbs, burning trails through the cloth.
His heart sped up as she slid the jacket off, and he worked on keeping his hands to himself as she arranged it onto the hangar.
Then he started unbuttoning his white dress shirt.
Her eyes widened as she turned back to him, worried gaze glued to his fingers as he loosened button after button.
He couldn’t help but smile as she stood staring, her mouth hanging open slightly, her cheeks clearly flushed as his fingers moved lower and lower.
He certainly recognized that look.
“I believe we’ve reached the end of that!” she said brightly, belying her panicked look. Her widened eyes darted to his. “I have nothing to offer you to sleep in, and I’m not about to watch you strip down to your undies, so I’m gonna head to my room now,” she said, thumbing backward.
Jim laughed, happy for the brief moment of humor, for they had undoubtedly reached dangerous territory.
The act of her helping him out of his jacket had made his cock fully erect, and with more blood leaving his brain to travel south, adding to the alcohol buzz, he definitely wasn’t thinking straight.
He wasn’t thinking at all, really—only fighting all the parts of him demanding that he do what he usually would, had this been any other woman.
And had you not been engaged. That’s right, buddy—don’t forget that; you didn’t get married, but you’re still technically engaged.
“Thanks for everything, Maribel. I’ll take it from here. See you in the morning.”
She smiled a muted smile and he watched her quickly disappear into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.
He chuckled.
He didn’t blame her one bit.
Sure, the door wouldn’t stop him had he been anything other than what she expected him to be and what he expected of himself, but it was a clear message.
If he acted on the feelings raging through him, he knew it wouldn’t take much to convince her to sleep with him, but no way was she ready for anything more than the friendship she was offeri
ng him, and no way was he going to violate her trust or take advantage of her vulnerability.
Knowing she’d be putty in his hands somehow made it easier for him to do the right thing.
Had he considered her a challenge, he might have been tempted to test her limits more, but it was clear she was sweet and genuine, and her needs were simple. Seduction could be as simple as moving one step closer to her.
She was in no way prepared for a guy like him; it would be like taking candy from a baby.
He removed his slacks, and, down to his T-shirt and boxers, he settled on the couch, wrapping the comforter around him and trying to find a good position as his head settled into the pillow.
Oh, god it smells like her, he thought as he sniffed the pillow hard, taking her scent in like some drug.
His cock stirred again.
Down, boy. It’s not like that. At least, wait until you’ve officially broken it off with Lucy. Deal? Deal.
Chapter 5
