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He puts one foot in front of the other, strolling a lazy line in my direction. The cocky grin pulling at his cheeks makes the cleft in his chin deepen. My back stiffens and my neck prickles with awareness. I’d forgotten how tall Jake was. Imposing with broad shoulders that stretch the limits of his blazer. Underneath his shirt, he’s solid. I remember because, trying to hide from Gavin’s reaction to seeing me with another man, I’d tucked my forehead to Jake’s breastbone. The pads of my fingers pressed into his tight stomach muscles.
Like a complete idiot, I reach my palm to Jake’s chest, intending to place it there to halt his advance. His stride stays steady, forcing my retreat as if we’re dancing a Regency waltz. He cages me into the counter, resting his large hands on the glass-topped case. The top of my head hardly comes past the second open button on his shirt. Golden hair springs from his collar. Jake bends, tilting his chin to my neck, and my traitorous nipples harden inside of my bra.
Thoughts I’ve been trying to banish swirl in my mind. They start out innocent enough. The two of us laughing, making small talk a little over a week ago. The weird get-to-know-you that normally precedes a kiss. Then it rolls backward to the kiss itself. For a split second, I forget I was kissing Jake Ballentine.
Whatever I am thinking is not normal. I’ve been trying to make sense of it and have come to two likely conclusions. First, getting hot and bothered by Jake is no different than the appeal of the buff guy in a movie. It could be no different than the way Jake’s customers react to the strippers. Lust may be a sin, but it’s also human nature. Hell, if anyone I know, male or female, doesn’t drool over a nice ass in a tight pair of jeans. Some are better at hiding lasciviousness.
And now, after twice seeing Jake dressed to the nines, I’m swiping at mental screenshots of what his rear view looks like encased in denim.Thanks a lot, subconscious.
Moving onto number two. My behavior screams “rebound”. Not the I’ll-jump-into-bed-with-any-human-with-a-third-leg rebound. But Jake was my emotional support the night I left Gavin. So—where I had to crush my heart to see that Gavin and I weren’t meant for forever, before obliterating what Gavin saw as his future—I’m looking for love in all the wrong places.
Jake was present at an opportune moment, and I mistook his kindness for compassion.
Something he readily confirms when his warm breath brushes the shell of my ear.
“Turn off the tape, Paisley. No footage for ten, let’s make it fifteen minutes.”
“I can’t.” I can’t continue letting my body’s reaction confuse the situation.
“Yes, you can. An app on your phone controls this system.” Undeterred, he slides my cell over the countertop. “We need a little privacy for what we’re going to do.”
Jake’s hard length presses into my belly. I swallow hard, fumbling to unlock the screen. He takes the device from me. With three thumb jabs and a flick, he turns off the store’s security cameras.
Once disconnected, Jake backs off as if he’s been burned. He unbuttons his suit jacket, stuffs a hand in his pocket, and kicks his feet up on a chaise lounge across the floor as if the room hasn’t been matchstick hot with sexual tension.
“Here.” He beckons, a white square held between his fingertips. “It is the original. I have a copy.”
“Original of what?” I play coy. He jotted down the agreement we made on a cocktail napkin. I pretend to be Jake’s girlfriend, and he pays for me to go on a vacation. “That was a joke.” We were flippant and drunk. “It doesn’t count… Also, I can afford my own trip. But thank you, nonetheless.”
“What part doesn’t count, Paisley?” Jake sits up, growling offense. “I’m guessing it’s when you threw yourself at me so Dr. Douche would think we were having an affair.”
“Don’t call Gavin that! He’s a good man.”
Jake’s eyes widen at my defense of my ex-fiancé. “Then tell me why you left him and I’ll call it even.”
“No.”
The Jake Ballentine in my boutique is not the Jake I met in his nightclub. I don’t trust this Jake to keep my secret when others find it absurd. Jake’s and my sordid affair was the talk of the town before sunrise. I would rather die than for a sensitive guy like Gavin to hear the actual reason why I left him at the altar from someone else. And with the guilt I’m carrying, if Gavin forgave me, I’d get drawn back in. Trapped into marriage and trying to make his world right again.
“Then I guess you have no choice than to go along with our deal. Unless you’re willing to risk your shop? People love rumors, Paisley. They feed off of the spectacle of it. Half of Brighton wants to see you fail because you chose me over Dr.,” Jake pauses, surprising me by using Gavin’s last name. “Laughton. I doubt when everyone hears what was going on between us was a big lie that my friends like Kimber and Sloan, who are still on your side, will remain that way.”
Crap.Sloan Galloway is one of my best customers. I’ve special-ordered plenty for her and listened to her suggestions. Oftentimes they’ve sold like hotcakes. Nurturing the relationship has brought in additional sales. New customers tell me they’ve stopped in based on her recommendation they shop here. Unlike the ladies who were in the boutique when Jake made his grand entrance, I can’t afford to lose Sloan… Or her girlfriends, for that matter. They’ve dressed for a ton of bigger occasions recently and shopped at my boutique first for the right piece to wear. The receipts following a Mill Girls’ Day Out can be the difference between a good month and a great one.
I blanch, my stomach bottoming out. Jake’s brow twitches. He’s got me painted into a corner, right where he wants me.
This is the Jake Ballentine Brighton is wary of. I’m harboring a small secret of little consequence to him, and Jake’s using it to his advantage. Without warning, the regret over ducking into Sweet Caroline’s overwhelms the remorse for ruining Gavin’s happiness.
Showing Jake my back might mean I wind up with a knife plunged in it, but I turn from him anyway to hide the tears pricking my vision. I finger a display of anklets that arrived while I was at home tending to the wounds I inflicted on myself. One has the word FIERCE pounded into the rose gold metal with a decorative arrow next to it.
My daddy was of small stature, like me. Sharp as a tack, he’d been picked on as a kid, not chosen for teams, underestimated. Daddy empathized with my plight. When I was a little girl, he taught me that good things come in small packages. That I could achieve whatever I wanted. In my lowest moments, my father assured me time and again that standing up for myself would not only build my confidence, but earn respect.
The idea of backing down from a bully like Jake has my blood pressure spiking. He won’t view me as anything but weak if I don’t stand up for myself.
However, owning a boutique was my dream. These four walls are my future. I have nothing else, and I’ve worked too hard to see it go under.
“How long will this charade last?” I need to know what I’m getting into.
Unaware he has snuck up on me, Jake removes the anklet that’s fascinated me from the rack. He has the gall to rip the tag off. Then he kneels, brushing aside the hem of my long skirt, securing the chain with the clasp around my ankle. Shackling me to him. “Six months seems long enough to prove we gave it a shot. Anything less and you’ll give the impression of serially having cold feet.”
