Can't Get Enough (22 page)

"Nothing. I mean, we've been forced to work together, but that's all."

"Right. Which is why he's just told the world that he's not sleeping with you. Where there's smoke, Claire…"

Katherine was regarding her intently, and Claire couldn't quite meet her eye.

"Something might have happened the other day in the elevator. And again the other day at his place."
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"Did he do that to your face?" Katherine asked, her expression tight.
Claire guessed what her friend was thinking and hastened to reassure
her.

"It was an accident, he was drunk—"

"Right!" Katherine stood, six feet of pure, angry woman. Realizing she
had the wrong end of the stick, Claire grabbed her ankle before she
could barge up to Jack's office and give him what for.

"It wasn't like that. I was helping him take his boots off, and he tripped. It was my fault as much as his," she explained.

Katherine froze, then some of the tension dropped out of her and she
sat beside Claire on the step. Silence stretched between them for a
beat. Then, "So you're seeing him, huh?" Katherine asked, her
expression unreadable.

Claire shook her head, then winced when it made her eye hurt.

"Uh-uh. Things just got out of control. We don't even like each other."
Although, that wasn't quite as true as it used to be. Even humiliated
and angry, she had to admit that there were aspects of Jack that she
liked and admired.

"I keep hearing this from you a lot lately. Love and hate are just
opposite ends of the same spectrum. You know that, don't you?"

Claire stared at her, genuinely horrified. "Are you kidding? There is no way I feel anything close to…

that
for Jack Brook. We just got stuck with each other, and we were bored. It's kind of a power thing. That's all."

She almost convinced herself. Katherine sighed and stood, brushing her skirt down.

"Well, good luck. He's a hard nut to crack," she said ruefully. Claire
looked at her sharply. "Did you—did you love him?" she asked
hesitantly, picking up on something in Katherine's voice.

"Of course not, we barely lasted more than a week or two. I just think
he's a good guy, underneath it all. Kind of the one that got away, you
know."

Claire nodded her understanding, and Katherine squeezed her shoulder briefly before heading down the stairs to her own floor.

"Oh, and forget about the gossip. That time I got busted with the Xerox
guy in the photocopier room? A five-day wonder. Something else will
come up, and you and Jack will be old news, I promise." Claire smiled
weakly, but as soon as her friend was gone she dropped her head into
her hands and sighed heavily. She could honestly say she'd never been
more humiliated in all her life. She'd worked so hard to project a
certain image at Beck and Wise. She had a reputation for being
hardworking and serious, and she liked that. It was important to her to
get ahead, to secure her own future. She'd learned
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the hard way that the only person you could rely on in life was
yourself. And she'd stupidly dropped her guard and allowed herself to
feel something for Jack. After just a few brief hours in an elevator,
she had written off a lifetime of caution and carefulness and given in
to her baser instincts. And look where it had got her—the whole
building was talking about her. Perhaps this was why she'd always kept
Jack at arm's length—because she'd known, deep down inside, that he was
her nemesis, romantically speaking. A force with the power to scramble
her thoughts, hijack her libido and drag her focus from the things she
truly considered important, like her sport and her career. Katherine
was a good friend, but she was wrong about Claire and Jack—there was no
love-hate thing going on here. For some strange reason, they had
discovered a sexual chemistry. That was it, pure and simple. And Claire
wasn't about to let it ruin her life. A lot of things that were really
important to her were coming to fruition in the next few weeks. She
wasn't about to let Jack distract her from her dreams. She sat up, then
stood. Goodbye, easy-to-bait, slightly infatuated Claire. She smoothed
her skirt, adjusted her cuffs. Hello, cool, polished professional who
could cut through Jack's flirting and bravado like a hot knife through
butter. From now on, she gave him nothing. And if that meant it was
back to the cold-war status that had existed before they were trapped
in the elevator, fine. Because she wasn't letting him get the better of
her again.

HE'D GONE TOO FAR. That much was obvious. He'd gone down there
intending to apologize, and he'd wound up being nasty. All because
she'd gotten all prim and proper about people thinking they were
sleeping together.

It wasn't as if it was a big deal that a man and a woman might want to
have sex with each other. It had happened before in the history of
time. Sure, it was unlikely that it would ever happen again between him
and Claire, but it was nothing for her to be getting her knickers in a
knot over. Boy, was she uptight. And probably mad as hell with him.
Beck had had no idea what he was doing when he'd forced the two of them
to work together.

Jack groaned and spun around in his chair. Clouds scudded across the
bright blue sky in the world outside, and he wished he was out there
instead of stuck inside having to deal with the repercussions of his
actions.

Why had he given in to the impulse to humiliate her? A little voice
whispered something deep inside, but Jack stomped on it mercilessly. He
didn't want to think about how mad he'd gotten when it became clear
that Claire was embarrassed about having had sex with him. That she
regretted
their encounters. While he'd been tossing and turning and fighting to
retain control of his subconscious all weekend, she'd been cleaning him
out of her memory and her life. For some reason, it rankled very deeply
that she could dismiss him so easily. So he'd lashed out. And the rest
would go down in office history, no doubt. Of course, they were beyond
apology now. You couldn't apologize for an apology that had gone wrong.
All that was left now was retreat. Which was no bad thing, when push
came to shove. Because he was spending way too much of his day thinking
about Claire. Ever since their time in the elevator she hadn't been far
from his thoughts. And that was not on.

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He knew what he wanted out of life. Uncomplicated friendships with women. A successful career. Travel. Excitement. Freedom.

And the absolute guarantee that he would never again feel as bereft as
he'd felt the day his brother died. So, it was decided, then. No more
enjoying himself teasing Claire. Definitely no more checking out her
butt or her breasts, or imagining what it would be like to make love to
her again, no holds barred, in the privacy of a bedroom. Long and slow,
hard and fast and lots of ways in between. And forget trying to make
her laugh. No, it was back to basics—work, work and more work. He'd
just grit his teeth and get through this stupid alliance Beck had
manipulated, and that would be that. From now on, professionalism was
the name of the day. Coolheaded professionalism and self-control.

CLAIRE CHECKEDher watch and resisted the urge to drum her fingers. Jack
was late. Again. It was Thursday, three days since the Flowers
Incident. Three days of calm and focus as she got back on track with
work and training. Her event times were good, the magazine was coming
along nicely and she'd managed to live down the sniggers and gossip
generated by Jack's impromptu announcement. She was even coming to
terms with the fact that there had been nothing but a very speaking
silence from her father. She was in the zone. Cool as a cucumber.

Sure, she hadn't actually come face-to-face with Jack yet. She'd
organized this meeting between him and Hank Hillcrest through the nice,
safe mechanism of e-mail—but she'd done it. It had only taken her an
hour or so to compose a suitably terse, chill note explaining about the
store tour that Hank Hillcrest wanted to take them on today. But that
was all part of the new attitude—terse and chill. A lean, mean business
machine. With a central oasis of cool confidence.

Except now Jack was late, and her confidence and cool were beginning to
curl at the edges. If he didn't show a second time, if he left her
standing outside the building waiting…she would seriously have to
suppress murderous urges if he let her down again.

The low, throaty burble of a sports engine cut across her thoughts and
she turned to find Jack cruising to a halt beside her in his red
Porsche. Her stomach contracted nervously and she told herself it was
because he'd startled her. No other reason.

Don't give him an inch.She had to remember that.

"You're late."

"There was a pileup on the freeway."

She inclined her head minutely to indicate she was willing to accept this.

"We'd better get a move on if we don't want to be late getting out to Hillcrest headquarters," she said, all brisk business.

"Not a problem," he said, leaning across to open his car door. It took
a moment for her to realize that he wanted her to get in.
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"I think we should take my car," she said, balking at the idea of being
stuck in such close confines with him for the better part of an hour.

"Sure. If that's what you want. Except my car's all ready to go." She
gave him a sharp look. He sounded very…cooperative. Not a
characteristic she associated with him at all.

And, of course, now she couldn't insist on taking her car without
looking like a royal pain. Businesslike. Professional.She had to take
her personal reactions out of the equation. What would she do if he was
any other business colleague?

Damn it. She'd really wanted to have her own car, to feel in control of
this outing. She pulled the car door open a little wider.

"If you're sure you don't mind driving…?" she asked hopefully.

"Not a problem."

She slid into the low bucket seat, dragging her hem over her knees. His
aftershave wrapped itself around her and she stiffened, suddenly
unbearably aware of everything about him. The crisp curls on the back
of his hands. The way his faded jeans hugged his thighs as he changed
gears. The faint stubble darkening his cheeks.

"Take the southeastern out of town," she instructed, riveting her gaze
on the hood and refusing to acknowledge all the little messages her
body was sending her.

He nodded, and a tense silence fell.

She should have insisted on separate cars. Definitely.

IF HE HAD TO MOUTHone more polite, bland, nothing-burger phrase, Jack
truly was going to scream. When had small talk become so excruciating?
It was like being stuck in a car with a robot. She looked like Claire
Marsden , she smelled like Claire Marsden . She had Claire Marsden's
softly curling hair and cute turned-up nose. But all other human
qualities had been stripped away to leave nothing but a polite business
machine.

Which was how he wanted it, of course. It suited his own agenda absolutely. Except…

He couldn't help remembering the sound of her laughter when they'd
discussed their favorite movies. Or the soft curve of her mouth just
before he kissed her. And the way her eyes dilated with desire when he
touched her just so….

Which was truly disturbing, and enough to renew his determination to
keep her at arm's length. He didn't want her haunting his dreams. He
didn't even know where to begin negotiating a place for her in his
world.

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"Just turn left here," she said, indicating a street up ahead. He
turned the corner, immediately spotting the enormous Hillcrest
building. Easing the car over a speed bump, he slid into a parking spot
and pulled on the hand brake. Silence filled the car as he switched the
ignition off.

"Any last-minute things I ought to know before we go in?" he asked. Anything to fill the void.

She was gathering her things, checking her papers in her briefcase.

"I don't think so."

She was cool, dismissive. He matched her.

"Let's go then."

They got out of the car and began walking toward the front entrance of
the huge glass-and-steel building. He stood aside to let her precede
him into the building, and just for a second he let his eyes drop down
to caress her butt as she passed him. He could remember what that butt
felt like in his hands, could remember how he'd held her to him and
she'd rubbed herself—

He had to remember. Today was about business. Strictly business.

11

CLAIRE STAREDat the polished timber tabletop in front of her and tried
to stave off the urge to yawn. Boring did not begin to do justice to
the tedium of a day spent talking hardware retailing with Hank
Hillcrest. And it was still going, even though the store tour was well
over. They'd long since returned from admiring paint departments and
lumber yards, and for the past hour they'd been ensconced in Hank's
private meeting room enjoying what he referred to as a "good old chin
wag." The entire day had been a unique form of torture for her. Despite
her determination to ignore Jack and her traitorous body's reaction to
him, she'd had to give herself a severe private talking to several
times. Once Jack had stepped backward in the warehouse to make way for
a forklift, accidentally walking into her. She'd been seriously
incapable of coherent thought for a full ten minutes afterward. And
then they'd been forced to sit next to each other in the back of a
company car while one of the Hillcrest executives drove them to a store
so Jack could "get a feel for the business." His thigh had been pressed
against hers the entire time, and she'd been unable to stop the
thoughts and sensations that had flooded her. Every inch of her body
had felt highly sensitized by the time they'd stepped out of car, and
when Jack had put his hand on the small of her back to guide her into
the store, a rush of damp heat had pooled between her thighs. This,
just from a hand on the small of her back! If things kept up like this,
she was going to have to carry a spare pair of panties around with her
in simple self-defense. She'd spent the rest of the afternoon going to
insane lengths to keep as many people between them as possible.