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“I don’t fuck indiscriminately,” Jude McMillan asserted. Then winced as a sharp pain lanced through him.
“I’m not here to judge. I listen and counsel,” Kathryn Stockman pointedly said. “And for a new twist, provide first aid.”
She gingerly pressed a damp surgical pad to Jude’s upper back, cleaning his opened wounds. This time, he fought the flinch.
“Did you climb into bed with a tiger in the middle of the night?” she asked.
“One would think.” He was standing at the panoramic windows in his Lexington Avenue office, his hands braced on the ledge as he stared out at the Chrysler Building. It was a dreary day in Manhattan, with a thick gray haze ribboning through the skyscrapers while a light drizzle fell from the overcast sky. The weather mirrored his mood, which continued to blacken in Kate’s presence.
He tried like hell not to consider how detrimental this incident might be to her perception of him. Thoroughly knowing it shouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Unfortunately, he admired and respected Kate. Spent way too much time fixated on her.
Jude had dropped his therapy sessions with her a year ago for those very reasons. Now here he was, his dress shirt stripped off while she tended to his injuries and pried from him this new litany of deep, dark secrets he managed to keep from everyone but her.
“These aren’t your typical sex scratches,” she commented, a slight edge to her tone, though she remained passive otherwise, as though immune to this situation—the vicious cuts and the details of the previous evening she anticipated him divulging. “These are gouges. My guess is they’re from stiletto fingernails. A dangerous trend, apparently—you actually lost some blood.”
“And ruined three-thousand-dollar sheets in the process,” he retorted, shooting for nonchalance. Missing the mark miserably, because he loathed being in this position.
Jude McMillan was an industrial risk insurance attorney who worked on multi-million-/billion-dollar losses. Global organizations and Fortune 500 companies kept him on retainer to head up potential subrogation activities or other legal claims and complications following epic financial, environmental and mortal disasters. He was a man sought after specifically for his expertise, attention to detail, decisive conclusions and shrewd negotiations—his proficiency coming with a lofty price tag.
Therefore, it rankled to feel so vulnerable, so exposed, at this very moment.
And with this particular woman.
Kate dabbed again with the pad and his body jerked in response because he wasn’t concentrating on controlling his reactions to the pain as he glowered inwardly.
“Sorry,” she said. “But I’d prefer you cringing than ending up with an infection.” She tossed the pad into the trash, then reached for the triple-action antibiotic in the kit she’d laid out on the end table he stood next to. “This round shouldn’t hurt. So why don’t you tell me what happened that not only left you with a crisscross map of lust on your skin, but also destroyed three-thousand-dollar sheets—and had you calling me after insisting you no longer required my counseling services?”
“Always direct and to the point. I like that about you, Kate.”
“I like that you generally don’t load me up with bullshit, Jude.” Her gaze caught his in the reflection of the huge glass pane and held it.
She was a striking woman. Tall and trim, but with slightly rounded hips and full breasts. Extremely feminine and enticing.
She had gleaming, bronze-colored hair with shimmery golden highlights. Her usual style was straight, lustrous strands draped over one shoulder. Today, however, she had loose, natural curls that tumbled down her back. Possibly because he’d reached her before business hours and hadn’t given her time to do much more than shower and apply a little makeup and lip gloss before meeting him here.
She was stunning even without all the cosmetic enhancements he was accustomed to—and the sensuous curls made him itch to tangle his fingers in them. Convincing Jude she’d be one hell of a vision to wake up to in the morning.
Not a path he should travel by any means, but he was always mesmerized by her breathtaking beauty. Though that wasn’t what really drew him to Kate Stockman. Yes, her tawny irises rimmed with vibrant orange were a fiery complement to her flawless, honeyed skin. And, true, every physical aspect of Kate from head to toe was soul-stirring. Yet what Jude found most captivating about this woman was her pull-no-punches attitude. Engagingly softened by her depth of emotion, her breadth of compassion…and her own buried secrets.
She had them. He knew it.
But Kate was a closed book. Always had been and, he suspected, always would be.
Another reason he’d ended their professional relationship. She was permitted to delve into his psyche, his very soul. He wasn’t allowed anywhere near hers.
Case in point, she diligently asked, “So who is this woman?”
“I met her at the VIP launch of Topline?
?the rooftop club of the new Amherst-Hull Building overlooking Times Square.”
“Mm. Was she your favored blonde-haired, doe-eyed, just-past-the-age-of-innocence sort…or—”
“You don’t judge, Kate.” His gaze narrowed on her. “What the hell?”
A long stream of air blew between her parted lips. She paused a moment, as though to regroup. Then she added the swabs of Neosporin to the surgical pads in the brushed-aluminum garbage bin alongside his mammoth, glass-topped desk. Returning to him at the window, she said, “I’m just trying to determine if that was a phase, Jude. Your taste in women changed dramatically from the one you were engaged to for eighteen months.”
Jude studied Kate’s reflection as she reached for the fat spiral of gauze. She stepped behind him once more and wrapped her arms around him at his waist, the even more intimate proximity of her instantly igniting every inch of him.
“Hold this end here, please,” she murmured. Her warm, feathery breath swept tantalizingly along his spine.
Jude pressed a hand to the edge of the gauze above his navel, as instructed. She began to unravel the roll, making her first pass around his toned midsection to his back, then circling to the front of him again. All the while, he battled the erotic temptation of her rich perfume wafting under his nose. The teasing of her wispy strands of hair and the silky material of her dress against his flesh. He knew not to imagine she wore a sexy black lace bra as her breasts grazed his shoulder blades, but it was no easy feat. She permeated his senses and made his cock throb in wicked beats.
Even when all of her current ministrations—her words, even—stung like hell, she still aroused him.
