Gold Fire (25 page)

It was a good description of the light pinewood and the brass bed frame. He gave her an encouraging smile. “I like it.”

She looked suddenly shy and hopeful. “Do you?”

It wasn’t like Jennifer to ask his opinion. To ask
anyone’s
opinion. If she’d asked him whether she should buy a Ford or a Honda, he would have been stunned. Asking whether he liked her new bedroom furniture sent a bolt of panic shooting down his spine. He was suddenly reminded of her resentful attitude toward Zoe, and his feeling that she might be jealous. That he might be her first romantic interest since losing Adam.

And that they were standing in her bedroom.

Jesus, it was like a perfect storm. The wedding album, the redecorated bedroom, and the door coming off its track, all reminding him of what she’d lost and the obligation he had to take care of her. If she’d wanted to drive home that point, she couldn’t have planned it better.

The realization, unlikely as it was, gave him a chill. “Sure, it’s nice,” he said, suddenly anxious to get out of there. “Well, if you don’t need anything else, I have some, uh, some fish I need to clean.” He edged toward the door. “I left them on ice when you called, so I need to get back there now.”

She gave him a bemused look. “Okay. Thanks for fixing the closet.”

“No problem.” He got to the door as fast as he could without actually running, then trotted to the truck as if his imaginary fish might spoil if he lingered another thirty seconds.

He breathed easier once he drove away, but knew
he wasn’t entirely safe. They saw each other at the Rusty Wire nearly every evening. He’d have to be on his guard, making sure they were never alone before opening and after closing. He didn’t know what might make him less desirable in her eyes if she hadn’t already been turned off by his lazy do-nothing lifestyle, but he could at least be less available. Maybe she’d look elsewhere if he made it clear he was interested in another woman.

And it just so happened that he was. Not that he needed an excuse to go after another of those scorching-hot kisses from Zoe. He’d told her what he wanted. She hadn’t raised any objections, and Zoe was good at objecting. If he could just get her to stop thinking and listen to her body, he could make her forget all about Matt Flemming.

•  •  •

Zoe could hardly concentrate at work. It was obvious that she felt better, and she knew Matt took note of it as soon as she came in Monday evening. He also couldn’t miss the fact that her hair was pulled back in a twist, as unsexy as she could make it. She did her best to avoid talking to him, and a few demanding guests made it easy. Some computer whiz kid celebrating his twenty-first birthday wanted his hot tub filled with champagne, a request David cheerfully dumped in her lap as he left. After a lengthy discussion with their sommelier and a very brief discussion with the kid’s credit card company, she approved it. Handling that was easier than dealing with the actress who wanted an extra queen-size bed for her two attack-trained Rottweilers, along with an in-room dog sitter while she went out for the evening. A volunteer for that one was hard to find, but the actress
finally flashed enough hundred-dollar bills to convince a young man from security to expand his job description to include dog sitter. Zoe left him with a walkie-talkie in hand, just in case.

The distractions were welcome. She would have to face Matt eventually, though, and she rehearsed a speech all the way to work on Tuesday about taking things slower. She didn’t have to give it. He wasn’t there, and didn’t show up all evening.

It was only a reprieve. But it gave her time to think, and it wasn’t Matt on her mind. Figuring out what she felt for Matt was easy—she felt nothing, no matter how hard she tried. But Jase Garrett stirred a cyclone of feelings—frustration; irritation; confusion; and over all of it, an earthy, panty-melting lust. She couldn’t deny it, she just didn’t know what to do about it.

The obvious answer shouted in the back of her mind and throbbed between her legs. Sleep with him.

In an odd way, it might help. Maybe her confused lust for Jase was holding her back from Matt. And maybe if she slept with Jase, she’d work him out of her system so she could get on with her life plan, Matt included. Jase would probably be a letdown as a lover, anyway, too selfish and lazy to think of anything but his own needs. This could work.

Hoping the night air would clear her mind, she rolled down her windows for the drive home. Fifty degrees could be bracing, waking up tired brain cells.

The cool wind carried the smells of earth and pine, and sent shivers over her exposed neck as she drove down the mountain. Passing the Rusty Wire, she glanced at the building, expecting it to be dark at two-thirty in the morning. It wasn’t. She slowed. In the
floodlight over the front door, two men appeared to be having an argument. She didn’t want to get involved, but she hated that excuse from so-called concerned citizens. What if it turned violent and one of them needed help?

She idled at the entrance. Loud swearing from one man was answered by a curt word from the other. One word was all it took. Recognizing Jase’s voice, she turned into the parking lot. A disagreement with an angry customer in the middle of the night couldn’t be good. She had no idea how she could help, but some backup had to be better than none. She stopped several yards from the men and stepped out of her car, not sure which man she’d be backing up.

A furious middle-aged man snatched something from Jase’s hand. “Thanks a lot, you just wrecked my marriage,” he said bitterly.

Zoe’s stomach clenched. It looked like she wouldn’t be taking Jase’s side.

“Your wife’ll probably thank me,” Jase assured him, far less perturbed.

“Bullshit! You don’t know how she gets. I was supposed to be there two hours ago.” He pulled out a cell phone as he talked, his demeanor suddenly changing. “Hi, baby. I’m sorry, I know I’m late, but I swear I wasn’t with Becky.” He winced at the answer. “Honest, baby, you can believe me. I was with Stan at the Rusty Wire.” He looked around helplessly. “No, he already left. But you can call him tomorrow—”

“Give me that,” Jase said, grabbing the phone from the man’s hands. Zoe took a step forward, as indignant as the man. She knew Jase had seen her, but he ignored them both, speaking into the phone. “Ma’am? This is
Jase Garrett at the Rusty Wire Saloon. I’m afraid I’m the reason your husband is late. He had too much to drink, and fell asleep on the table. I took his car keys and let him sleep it off. I woke him up a few minutes ago, and he’s leaving for home now. If you’d like, you can stop in here tomorrow evening. I have several employees who can verify that your husband was here, drunk and snoring most of the night.”

Zoe bit back a grin. The man watched, frozen with fear.

“Yes, ma’am. Good night,” Jase said. He handed the phone back. “I explained why you’re late. You’ll have to explain why you were too drunk to drive. Good luck.”

The man pocketed his phone and turned, swearing under his breath as he walked to a pickup truck. They watched wordlessly as he drove off.

As the sound of the pickup died away, Jase turned to her. He looked her over from twenty feet away, then walked closer, each booted step echoing loudly across the empty parking lot. Her heart sped up, as if there was something exciting about being close to him. And damn it, there was. He’d done a lot to piss her off, but lately he seemed to do everything right.

He stopped in front of her, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled, enjoying the little rush of adrenaline she got from looking at him. There was nothing wrong with looking. “Coming to your rescue. Or his, I wasn’t sure.”

“His?”

She shrugged. It really was odd, the way she reacted to him, as if she could already feel his hands encircling her body, pulling her against him. She didn’t have to
check for tingles, her body fairly vibrated with them, the nape of her neck alive with an electric current that raised the tiny hairs to attention. It was beyond analyzing, beyond the need for long-range plans. It required action.

In the back of her mind something clicked into place so firmly she wondered if it had been audible.

He obviously hadn’t heard it. “I suppose you thought that was the rational thing to do, step into the middle of an argument in the deserted parking lot of a saloon at two-thirty in the morning?”

Well, if he was going to put it that way . . . “I didn’t really think it through. I just acted on impulse.”

A spark of interest lit his eyes, igniting an answering flare below her stomach, because she knew full well which impulses he was remembering. “In different circumstances, I’d approve.” He cleared his throat. “But I think you should have listened to logic on this one. A dark parking lot, two strange men arguing . . .”

“I knew it was you.” Was he really telling her to be more rational? “I’m not afraid of you.”

The flashback was almost a physical thing. She’d said the same words to Matt. Then, she’d been unable to stomach the idea of having sex. This didn’t feel at all the same.

She watched Jase reassess the situation, amused that she’d thrown him off his stride. It was a nice feeling. Powerful.

His gaze took in her Alpine Sky blazer and skirt, lingering a little too long on her breasts and legs. “On your way home from work?”

“Mm-hmm.” She made no move to leave, doing a little body scanning herself. Lingering here and there.

“You have crappy hours.”

“Same as yours,” she said, unperturbed. She ran her eyes over the breadth of his shoulders, the corded muscles in his arms. She’d looked before, but not as openly. His T-shirt did nothing to hide a well-defined chest, and his jeans tightened around the strong muscles in his thighs. He probably didn’t even need a bouncer—he looked capable of handling anything. Or anyone.

Her, for instance.

She sucked her lower lip in at the thought, letting it slip slowly beneath her teeth as she raised her eyes to his.

His gaze was stuck on her mouth, his eyes slightly narrowed. When he finally looked up, he no longer seemed off his stride. In fact, he looked pretty decisive.

“How about a drink before you go home?”

No wild, impulsive choices, she reminded herself. Just well-thought-out, sensible decisions, with a definite goal in mind.

She smiled serenely. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter
Fourteen

H
e was still locking the door as she crossed the empty dance floor to the bar, her heels making a hollow sound in the deserted room. The saloon looked different in the half-light of the fluorescent tubes behind the bar. Chairs were turned upside down on tables, and the back room was a shadowy cave. She ran her hand along the edge of the bar as she walked its length, considering what it had seen in more than a hundred years of use. And not just drinking. With no carpet on the floor, she guessed more than one naked backside had been pressed against the bar top after hours.

My goodness
, she thought, amused by how quickly her mind had adjusted to the new program.

She turned to Jase, who was doing something behind the bar. “Are we alone?”

“Yes. Watch what you touch, the bar only got a quick wipe before I sent everyone home.” He opened two beer bottles, holding one toward her. “Beer?”

“Thanks.” She took a sip as Jase came around the bar.

If possible, he seemed even more laid back after hours. He tipped his bottle up, looking her over, his gaze slow and deliberate as he drank. “You surprised me, Zoe. I didn’t think you were the type to impulsively accept an invitation this time of night.”

“I’m usually not.” She looked at the beer bottle in her hand, then set it aside. Beer wasn’t what she really wanted. “But I’ve had this small problem lately, and it’s affecting my usual sensible choices.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It seems I’m attracted to you.”

He hid a smile with a casual sip from his bottle. “Interesting problem.”

“Yes, because giving into an urge like that is something I don’t do. As you said, I make sensible decisions. And you and I . . . well, that’s far from sensible, what with your lack of ambition and my well-thought-out career goals.”

“Hmmm.”

“Obviously, I need to get over it. Get you out of my system.”

He nodded.

She waited for him to ask how she planned to do it, but he just took another slow drink, watching her as he did. For a person with little ambition, he had an intense focus. Pleasant shivers crossed her shoulders. He might be letting her lead, but there was no doubt he knew where they were going.

And there was no turning back. Now that she’d decided to satisfy her curiosity, her body quivered, anticipating his touch. He would mold her against him, stroke her, kiss her in that mind-reeling way that both
staggered and aroused her. Just imagining it drove her crazy in a delicious, electrifying way.

Beneath prickles of excitement, the relief almost made her laugh—
this
was how it was supposed to feel. No suggestive language or groping required. Matt could have tried all night and never gotten it right, but all it took with Jase was a look. She was steaming from it, while doing her best to look as calm and collected as he did.

She let the certainty of what she was doing sweep through her, thrilling at the new sensation. She doubted he felt it; he was too absorbed in watching. She didn’t know if he was undressing her with his gaze, but it sure as hell made
her
think about undressing.

“Hot in here,” she said, reaching for the buttons on her blazer.

His eyes followed her hands as she undid the jacket, then slipped it off and draped it over a bar stool. A smile played at the corner of his mouth, causing a flock of butterflies to take wing in her stomach. Humor flashed in his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m starting to get into that proper look of yours, Miss Larkin. It’s like a hard shell covering a soft, creamy center.”

She arched an eyebrow, congratulating herself on looking cool while seriously overheating. “As I remember it, you called my look stiff.”

“Did I?” He considered it, raking another hot gaze over her body. “Right word. Wrong person.”