Falling for the Guy Next Door (15 page)

Y
our game, your rules.

That’s what
she’d said.

Jack yanked
his shirt from the hanger and slid into it on the way down the
stairs. Megan was in his blood, had been since that very first
thought of kissing her had hankered down in the woods almost two
years ago and refused to budge. But he’d intended to control the
desire, take charge of the urges. He’d had no intention of jumping
into bed with her again.

No, that had
been her idea. She’d started this, wanted this. She’d stoked a fire
inside him until the flames scorched his veins, and now she’d
kicked him out into the cold. After she’d insisted sex had never
been the mistake, that the mistake was not taking the time to do it
right. He’d believed her. He still did.

There was a
game, all right, and she’d hijacked the rules. But damned if he
knew why. All he knew was, there’d been two people on that beach,
two people in his bed the night before last, and neither of them
were ready to move on. There was still plenty of burning to do, and
she’d have to prove him wrong with more than words if she
disagreed.

He finished
buttoning up his shirt and tucked it in around his waist. Outside
the front door, he gave a momentary pause. This kind of behaviour
wasn’t like Megan. Toying with him, losing interest once the chase
was over, just didn’t add up.

He shook his
head and jumped the low hedge, striding up to her side of the
house. It didn’t matter. He hadn’t gone into this for a one-night
stand. That wasn’t his thing and he’d especially vowed never again,
not with Megan. If she thought this was what he wanted, that she
was bowing out gracefully, he’d soon show her otherwise.

She kept him
waiting on the porch for a good few minutes. As his gaze raked over
her loose curls, bared shoulders, the sundress floating around her
thighs and a pair of strappy heels that showed off the tone of her
calf muscles, he decided the wait had been worth it. Her eyes
didn’t exactly sparkle, but the dominant brown warmed her gaze.

“Jack, hi,”
she said breathlessly, all shallow smiles and the friendly textures
she’d worn on their return from Bunny Island yesterday, when she’d
nevertheless shut the door on him. “You, um, caught me at a bad
moment. I’m on my way out.”

He waved his
hands over his formal trousers and button down shirt. She knew very
well that he’d been invited to the grand opening of Finn’s new
lodge, but apparently she wasn’t expecting him to attend. He cocked
a brow at her. “I thought we’d ride in together.”

“No!” she
yelped, followed by a more sedate, “I mean, that wouldn’t be right.
You do remember everything I said yesterday?”

“How could I
forget?” His brow flattened. “And I gave you time and space to
realise how ridiculous that is. We’re not done, Megan, and you know
it.”

Pink splashed
her cheeks. Her mouth opened, then snapped close. The specks in her
eyes flashed green. “Do you have any idea how condescending you
sound?”

“Here’s the
deal,” he said, encouraged by her anger. Warm and friendly: bad.
Sparks and passion: good. “You tell me what I’ve apparently done,
and I’ll refrain from being a condescending bastard. What’s the big
problem all of a sudden?”

“Why does
there have to be a problem?” She retreated into the hallway. “We
had fun and now it’s over. What’s so difficult to understand? It’s
not as if we were ever going anywhere with this, Jack.” She looked
at him, her eyes narrowing into her frown. Nibbled at that lower
lip in a way that hitched his gaze for a long moment. “Well, there
it is. Short and spicy, Jack, that’s how you take you
relationships, right?”

His eyes shot
up. “Don’t throw that in my face. You know I’m not into one-night
stands.”

“Yeah? And how
would I know that?”

“Because you
know me,” he growled, moving over the threshold.

She backed up
against the wall. Her eyes dropped from him, exclaiming her
guilt.

“Nothing to
say now?” he said softly.

“You don’t do
one-night stands.” Her voice was dull. She peered up at him. “Is
that what this persistence is about? One of the checklist items on
your Scouts Boy Honour scroll?” Her tone took on a caustic edge. “A
box that must be checked? Well, sorry if I’m upsetting your
tally!”

“Premature
endings are messy.” He challenged her with a hard look. “Is that
what you want? To jump off while the heat is still full blast so
you can keep the flames alive?”

She rolled her
eyes. Spurted out a laugh. “You are friggin’ unbelievable.”

“And you’re
neatly avoiding the question,” he pointed out, wondering if he’d
stumbled upon the truth.

She shoved
past him. “I have to go.”

He grabbed her
by the arm. “When we started this, you said ‘your game, your
rules’.”

“This is your
great comeback?” she hissed. “So I should just bow down to your
every whim? You’re delusional.”

“You
misunderstand,” he murmured near her ear. “I merely want to set the
record straight. There are no rules, Megan. I don’t play
games.”

She tried to
jerk her arm free and he released her. He watched as she stormed
toward her car, waited until she’d yanked the door open.

“Living in
Corkscrew Bay is like living in a glass house,” he called out,
repeating her words from an old conversation when he’d been
quizzing her on small town living. “It works better if you keep the
blinds shuttered sometimes.”

She spun
about, her chin notched high and her eyes blazing into him.
“What?”

“You don’t
think people will notice if we arrive at the same function in
separate cars when we live next door to each other? Considering
we’re known to be pretty good friends?”

“It’s a twenty
minute drive,” she retorted. “Long enough for me to think up a good
excuse.”

His jaw
clamped down. “You’re riding with me.”

Her smile
twisted into a challenge of her own. “Or what?”

“Which would
you prefer?” He shrugged. “I could spread so many versions of the
same story. Our story,” he added, in case she’d missed the
threat.

“Blackmail?”
She threw her hands up. “Seriously?”

He hitched his
thumbs in his belt and gave her a look meant to confirm her worst
nightmare.

She spluttered
out a string of incomprehensible sentences for his imagination to
play with. If he’d wanted sparks and passion, well, he’d certainly
got the sparks. She marched a direct path to the Land Rover,
glaring daggers as she passed him.

Megan squashed
as deep into the corner as her seatbelt allowed and aimed her gaze
out the window the entire way. She’d had little sleep last night,
twisting, turning, second-guessing her choices. Pining for a man
she’d decided to give up before he could do so first. Well, she
certainly wasn’t in two minds right now. No doubt about it, she was
spitting mad. She couldn’t believe he’d actually blackmailed her
with her own sentiments.

What did Jack
know about surviving small town mentality? Only what she’d learned
along the way. Be sure of your business before you hang it out,
because guaranteed it will become public domain within the
hour.

Now he was
threatening to hang their relationship out for all to squawk at.
When it came to Jack leaving, her plan had been concise and abrupt
from the beginning: forget him in a hurry. Corkscrew Bay never
forgot a friggin’ thing. Not to mention her mother, and her parents
had been on the top of Finn’s guest list.

They pulled
into the grounds of the lodge and Megan pursed her lips on a firm
decision. She’d go along with Jack, with whatever he wanted. She
just had to get through this day. Not just for herself, but for
Finn.

The revamped
campsite with its luxury log cabins had opened last year, but Finn
had only just completed the Reception Lodge. The building housed an
aquatic spa complex that would set his resort apart from any other
in Cornwall by a mile. Today was the grand opening, his moment, and
she was determined to share in it, not ruin it.

Jack found a
parking spot in front of the magnificent glass and timbre
structure. He cut the engine and turned to her. “Your body language
is a dead give-way.”

“I’ll give you
dead,” she muttered, climbing out of the car. But he was right. She
plastered on a smile and waited for him so they could walk inside
together. “Just remember, we’re friends.”

“I’m not the
one who needs reminding,” he murmured.

She stiffened.
“Trust me, I’ll have no problem keeping my hands off you.”

“That’s where
your mind took you?” His grin came out, slow and lazy. “I meant,
remember to act as if we’re friends and not enemies.”

The urge to
slap that grin from his face strained her fingers. She fisted her
hands at her side and turned from him. Her next breath came out on
a sigh of amazement as her gaze swept the room. Natural light from
the glass panes angled in the structural timbre flooded the
reception area, casting a warm glow on the slatted oak floor. Some
of the tension released from her shoulders.

The result of
Finn’s vision was dazzling and she was so proud of the boy who’d
been voted least likely to succeed in that pathetic unofficial
yearbook put out by Jeremy and his pack of bullies. Finn had
incorporated the water sports side of his business into the theme
with a Hawaiian bar set up in one corner by the permanent water
feature. Servers bearing trays of appetising delicacies were
attired in neutral trousers and tunics, but they had leis of red,
yellow and white Hibiscus draped around their necks.

There were
plenty of strange faces amongst the guests, but she spotted her
parents at once. They were in a conversation with Lady Henrietta,
who looked every bit the regal Duchess in a two-piece champagne
satin suit and silver hair done up in an elaborate coif.

Another reason
to put Finn before her own problems today. He needed all the
support he could get. Isobel was on a mission to have her wedding
at the lodge and Lady Henrietta was here to veto the venue and
shake some sense into her granddaughter. Finn had very valid fears
that he’d be the one torn apart in the battle.

Her mother
caught her eye and waved her over.

Megan started
in that direction, only to be halted by an arm circling her waist.
She scowled up at Jack.

He was smiling
at her mother, gesturing that they’d be over shortly. “Let’s get a
drink first,” he told her.

Megan sucked
in a deep breath. Fine. So he needed to exert some primal
domination thing over her. Small victory. He could have it. She
shifted out of the circle of his arm and gave the offending limb a
pointed look. “A little touchy for friends, wouldn’t you say?”

His hand came
to a rest on the small of her back. “Better?”

She didn’t
answer, said nothing as he guided her further into the reception
area. They had to pass through knots of locals and were stopped a
couple of times to chat, which slowed their progress toward the
bar. All her nerve endings seemed to have gathered in that small
hollow at her back, registering the pressure of his touch and the
lingering warmth. Her relief wasn’t nearly as great as it should
have been when they reached the bar and Jack had to relinquish his
hand to the backrest of the stool she slid onto.

She hooked her
heels on the lower rung and swivelled away from the counter to
glance around the room, anywhere but at Jack. She saw Isobel emerge
from an inner door, her fiancée, Ian, on her left.

“Crap,” she
muttered when she saw the lanky guy walking on the other side of
Isobel. She’d never met any of the cousins, but this guy had the
identical shade of strawberry blond hair as her friend. She
wondered just how many of the extended clan Lady Henrietta had
brought with her for backup.

“Mango and
passion fruit, actually.”

She spun her
chair back to Jack.

At the same
moment, he stepped forward to press a tall ice-misted glass into
her hands. His thigh wedged between the skirts of her sundress.
Their fingers brushed as her hand closed over the glass and he
didn’t release. The sensations prickled to her very core.
Apparently, being spitting mad at the man did nothing to quell
desire, because it flickered along her veins and heated through her
blood. Their eyes met and held. Her smile softened without
permission as the moment stretched and neither looked away. The
charge between them was so much more than electric chemistry. It
spread through her like a deep muscle massage, thrilling and
soothing, jostling her hormones while lulling her soul.

His thumb
stroked a slow, sensual path along hers as he took his time
releasing the glass into her custody.

When he stood
back, she fought the urge to press the ice-cold glass to her throat
to cool her blood and freeze the other cravings. Okay, she’d never
pretended to herself that she was over him.

She took large
gulps of the fruit cocktail and gave her back to him again. She
simply had to deal with this small lapse. Stay mad.

Her eyes
skipped to Finn as he approached, smoothly engaging with his guests
without allowing them to stop him as he worked a path toward
them.

Finn greeted
Jack with one of those slide-slide-curl handshakes, then set those
Irish blue eyes on her and grabbed her nearly clear off the stool
in a bear hug. “I feel as if I haven’t seen you in a month.”

“You haven’t.”
she said with only the softest rebuke. “You’ve been all work and no
play for ages. Say, is that—” She prodded her chin in Isobel’s
direction. “Is that one of Izzy’s cousins?”

“Probably. The
dragon brought a carriage load of Devaulls with her,” he said,
glancing over. “Yes, that’s Freddie.” He looked back at her, his
usual easy humour not quite reaching his eyes. “Or Lord Frederick
to us lesser mortals.”