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“Is this how you get all the girls to fall for you?”
Jason looked up, continuing to play. “Why, is it getting me somewhere?”
Yes. “I don’t know. I still think you’re going to have to work a little harder for me. I’m not your average girl, playboy.”
He smirked at her. “Playboy?”
“As if you don’t know your reputation. You had a different woman on your arm every time I saw you.” She arched her brow for emphasis. “I saw you a lot. What changed?”
“You.”
She laughed and dropped her gaze to her lap. It sounded like such a line. But she wanted to believe it.
Jason went on. “Basically, I had a bad lesson in love pretty early. Almost made it down the aisle, but I walked in on my fiancée with a man between her legs the night before the wedding. It turned out everyone knew about it but me. No one wanted to tell me. Anyway, when I told her it was over, she was furious. She wanted to be Mrs. Henley way more than she wanted me. Thought we should get married anyway, that we could both fuck whomever we pleased… I was in love with her, so that was a big hurt. I didn’t want to face it again. So I dated…a lot,” he said, with a little grin, “never letting anyone get close enough to matter.”
She’d known there was a history, but she’d never found out the details. Looking at the man in front of her, his fingers dancing flawlessly over the keys, she wondered how any woman could ever choose to be with another. It didn’t make sense. “I’m sorry, Jason.”
“Don’t be. I have you. I have everything I want.”
She was flustered. He said all the right things. So right that she didn’t know how to respond and suddenly nerves had her searching for the safety of their banter. “You’re so sure you have me?”
“Okay, you want me to work for it?” He played on and when Laine thought there could be no better way to pass the time, he glanced over at her, a tentative look on his face. “If you tell anyone, I’ll throw you off the roof.”
“What are you talk—”
He opened his mouth and, in a low sexy voice that made every hard defense Laine had built around her heart melt into a pool between her legs, put Harry Connick, Jr. to shame.
Laine watched, her heart thudding against her ribs like it wanted to break free and crawl into his lap. Realizing her mouth was hanging open, still frozen mid-question, she snapped it shut. Suddenly she felt like she was the one who had the work to do.
From the kitchen the phone sounded with two sharp trills. Jason jumped up from the piano, rubbing his hands together. “Food’s here.”
He walked over to the elevator doors and rifled through his wallet for a few bills.
Laine crossed to the piano to admire the silver framed photos displayed atop the dark wood’s mirror finish. Pictures of Jason with his parents in various locales around the world. He looked like his father. But his smile was all mom. She wondered what a child of Jason’s might look like, maybe a girl—
Her face flooded with heat. The man had taken her back to his apartment for a fling. What the hell was she doing speculating over the mergence of Henley/Malone genes? What did she even know about Jason outside of work? That he was extraordinary in bed? That he was a glutton when it came to spicy midnight snacks from Chows?
That everything he did surprised her and made her smile. That he always seemed to know what to say to make her laugh. Or that he could talk to her about anything and make her feel like the only person in the world who mattered.
Maybe she knew a few things. Maybe she knew more than she realized.
She swallowed hard. This was so not keeping her emotions from spiraling out of control.
The doors swished open behind her and the spicy, sweet aroma of steaming hot food tickled her nose and made her mouth water. Laine pulled the front of Jason’s shirt across her chest. It hung almost to her knees, but she still felt self-conscious when the delivery guy glanced in.
“Hey man, big order tonight. Is this your wedding planner?”
Laine’s eyes widened in surprise.
Jason grinned like a goof and, shoving the bills into the delivery guy’s hand, took the three handle bags into his own. “Beat it, Jimmy, before you get me in trouble.”
Jimmy chuckled and backed into the elevator. “Night, Jay. See you tomorrow.”
The doors closed, and Jason brought the food to the floor in front of the fireplace. Tearing into the bags he set up one box after another, opening each to display the bounty.
“You want to pick out something to listen to?”
Laine walked over to the stereo and looked at a couple of the discs lying on top. Jack Johnson, Jason Mraz, Ella Fitzgerald, and The Police to name a few. Nice. “Oh, I love this one,” she said, selecting Maroon 5, Songs about Jane.
