Intimate (6 page)

Business first. This was a business trip. That didn't mean he couldn't imagine slowly peeling the filmy scarf off of her, exposing that beautiful honey-colored skin inch by inch. Smiling at the saleslady, he reached for his wallet.

*   *   *

“Do you mind sticking this in your purse?”

She glanced up to catch Jake smiling at her, holding the small bag in one hand. “Sure.” She took the package and carefully placed it in the side pocket of her oversized shoulder bag. Not a gift, as she'd first thought. A prop. She stroked her fingers over the small bag. A prop with infinite possibilities. Her nipples tightened, imagining the feel of Jake's big hands adjusting the silky fabric over her breasts, maybe even between her legs. All to display the jewelry, of course.

“Thank you.” He was nodding to the clerk as once again he grabbed Kaz's hand and headed outside to the crosswalk that led to their hotel. She tightened her grasp around his fingers, felt his light squeeze in return, then smiled when he glanced down and caught her looking at him. She wasn't used to walking hand in hand with a man. She'd never held hands with a man like Jake.

There was live music playing somewhere—guitars and drums so loud, they must be close. They were good, too, and the music had Kaz sort of nodding along to the beat. She was tired, but not entirely ready to call it a night.

Jake leaned close, and it was like he was reading her mind. “I like the sound of that music,” he said. “The hotel's got a cocktail lounge. No band, but the concierge said there's a really talented guy playing piano tonight. We can't stay up late with such an early start, but have a drink with me.”

She glanced at him, fully aware that a very feminine part of her wanted to show off this guy she was with, business companion or not. She'd teased him earlier about cleaning up really well, but in black jeans, boots, and a snug, black long-sleeved T-shirt that showed off his exceptionally fine body, she hadn't been kidding.

He still held on to her hand, and it was such a unique experience, actually to feel small beside a man. A drink sounded good, and a quiet hotel bar made more sense with tomorrow's early schedule. A drink in the lounge was a terrific idea.

She bumped him with her hip and said, “After the day I've had?” Laughing, she glanced at their hotel on the opposite corner and focused on the second-floor balcony she was almost certain opened to their room. Then she tucked her arm through his and tugged him toward the crosswalk. “You'd better believe I'd like a drink.”

*   *   *

There wasn't any traffic to speak of, but they waited for the light to change. As soon as it did, Kaz stepped off the curb. Jake glanced up at the sound of a revving engine. A dark car, with no headlights on, flew toward the crosswalk.

“Kaz!” He jerked her back so hard she stumbled. Wrapped his arm around her waist, held her tightly against his body, and spun the two of them to safety behind a stout light pole—barely ahead of the speeding car.

Tires screamed. The car bounced up on the sidewalk, sideswiped the pole, and skidded sideways through the main street, forcing a smaller vehicle over the curb. Pedestrians scattered. A young man jumped out of the way, cursing. The driver who'd caused the mess got control of his vehicle—an older BMW—but not before spinning a full circle in the intersection.

The sedan came to a halt, tires smoking, broadside to their corner. The driver's window was open. For the briefest moment, Jake and the man made eye contact. Then the guy hit the gas, burning rubber as he flew down the almost empty street. The few cars in his way dodged to one side or the other. People on the sidewalk hid in doorways; someone screamed.

The BMW blew through the red light at the next intersection, skidded into a left turn from the center lane, and disappeared down a side street. People converged from all directions, but Jake held Kaz close as those old memories slammed into him—damn, it was like he couldn't catch a break.

Thank goodness, this time there was another outcome. His body vibrated with an overload of adrenaline, but Kaz was in his arms. She was trembling, but she was safe. She was here, holding him every bit as tightly as he held her. There was no one lying dead in the street. No one bleeding, no one screaming at him.

Nothing but a few stunned pedestrians staring in the direction the car had gone.

A policeman pulled to a stop across the street and a few of the people went to him, reporting what had happened. Still hugging Kaz, Jake buried his face against her neck. He really didn't want to get involved with the police. Questions led to answers he couldn't give. There were too many secrets he had to keep.

He thought of the latest text. He'd only had a chance to glance at it, a preview on the screen of his phone when Kaz had handed it to him earlier. Was the bastard who called him RJ driving an older, black BMW? Was something in Jake's past screwing with his present?

He glanced at the policeman taking statements from various bystanders. No one seemed to notice Kaz and him standing here, and no one appeared to be hurt. Kaz still held him tightly, trembling against his chest as he took one deep breath after another. He fought to control his anger, to get his emotions under control. Kaz gazed up at him.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, but she didn't make any attempt to pull free of his embrace. “He must have been drunk,” she said. “Or on drugs. He sure doesn't have any business driving.”

“No kidding.” He hugged her even tighter. He had to think, damn it. Why was that bastard aiming at them? There was no doubt in Jake's mind—either he or Kaz had been targeted, but why? He flashed on the driver's face. He looked familiar, but Jake was certain he'd never met the man. Still, the feeling persisted.

A second squad car arrived and the crowd began to thin out as folks went back to whatever had brought them into the small town on a Tuesday night.

After a moment, Kaz raised her head and gazed at Jake. Her expression was haunted, and yet she was absolutely stunning—a woman both exquisitely strong and yet achingly vulnerable. “That man, the one driving the car? I think I saw him earlier.”

“What?” He grasped her shoulders, anchoring himself as much as Kaz. “When? Where?”

“When you were filling the car up with gas. He was standing by the bank of pumps across from us. I didn't get a good look at him and don't know what kind of car he was driving, but…” Her lips tilted in a shaky smile. “He looked like the same guy I saw at the coffee shop, too. Sitting across from us, but…” She paused, glanced away. “No. Never mind. I saw a middle-aged guy with dark hair staring at your Escalade. He looked like he was reading the logo on your door. It couldn't have been him. I don't know why I thought it was the same guy.”

“You're sure?” He hugged Kaz close.

“No.” Her laugh was still shaky. “That car just missing us was scary. I'm not even sure of my own name.”

“Still want that drink?” he asked. He managed a smile, hoped it didn't look more like a grimace. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her.

She nodded, studied him a moment, then returned his smile. “Most definitely. Preferably in the hotel lounge where the room is only an elevator ride away. This place is more exciting than it looks.”

Chuckling softly, he took her hand and, skirting the cars and the lingering activity in the intersection, led Kaz across the street to the hotel, to the quiet lounge on the ground floor.

 

CHAPTER 4

There was an older guy at the piano playing some really nice, lazy jazz, but Jake's mind was still spinning, not yet in sync with the gentle rhythms filling the quiet lounge.

Tonight's close call had brought so much back, so many memories he'd tried to bury. Funny thing about those memories. They tended not to stay buried.

He'd watched that car flying their way and he'd remembered that horrible night so long ago. Was that what the young mother saw before she died? A big, dark car with two stupid-ass kids inside, sliding directly at her, out of control on a rain-slicked road? She'd tried to shove her little boy out of the way, but she hadn't been fast enough. Jake could still hear the horrible sounds, feel the cold rain as he'd raced from the car to check on the woman and child.

It had been too late.

A warm hand grasped his, startling him out of the past. He glanced at Kaz's slim fingers wrapped around his.

“This was a good idea,” she said. “Thank you. That was really scary.”

He nodded, drawn back to the present by her soft voice. “I know. It's not every day some guy tries to run you down.”

“Did it feel as if he was aiming for us?” She tightened her grasp on his hand. “I want to think it was just an accident, but…”

“That's all it was. Probably some jerk having a really bad day, and too much to drink.”

“I hope that's all it was.”

So did Jake, but he had a horrible feeling it was more. A lot more. He'd been trying to remember the man at the coffee shop. He'd been vaguely aware of an older guy who came in shortly after Jake. He'd gotten his coffee, found a place in the corner, pulled out a tablet. Then Kaz had arrived, and nothing else mattered.

Had the guy left before them? Afterward? He didn't know. Hadn't cared. Then.

He pushed the thought aside to concentrate on now, on the fascinating woman across the table from him. He sipped his glass of port, nodding along with the music, caught in the rhythm, the perfect tempo filling the room, the warmth of her hand holding his. He squeezed her fingers. “Thank you, by the way. Jazz is supposed to be mood music. It's either the jazz or you, but I think my adrenaline overload is settling down.” He smiled at Kaz and wished he could explain how much her touch meant. It hadn't been the music that had taken him away from the discordance of broken memories and past mistakes. No, it had been her gentle touch and her voice that opened the way, that allowed the soft notes to wrap around him like a silken cocoon.

The music, though? The music had him thinking of smooth sheets and soft skin—and tattoos.

Specifically, a monarch butterfly tattoo.

It was so close, hidden beneath the fuzzy sweater draped artfully off one slim shoulder. Did Kaz have any idea what an aphrodisiac her hidden butterfly was?

Would he ever have a chance to show her?

She was easily the most fascinating woman he'd ever met, as well as absolutely beautiful, and sitting close enough to touch.

The same gorgeous woman he'd be sharing a room with tonight.

Damn. He stared at the drink in front of him, a stemless wine glass that still held a few swallows of some of the best vintage port he'd ever tasted.

It had been Kaz's selection, another surprise. He'd been planning on a shot of good whiskey and had her tagged for a dirty martini or maybe a margarita, but she'd carefully studied the wine list before choosing a rich dark red port that went down like velvet.

Watching the subtle ripple in that long, smooth throat of hers after she took her first sip, held the wine in her mouth for a moment with a look of absolute bliss on her face, and then finally swallowed, had him hard as granite.

Just like that.

He wanted to blame it on the long day, the frustration and then the absolute relief after his search for the perfect model, the adrenaline from that speeding car almost hitting her, but he knew it was more. It was Kaz. This entire day, since the moment he'd first seen her, had been magic. Pure, unbelievable magic.

Even the chance to drag her to safety, to feel her trembling in his arms. It had scared the crap out of him, but at the same time, that fear they shared had forged a connection. Something beyond the mere act of pulling her out of harm's way.

Except that connection had a darker side. If the guy in the BMW was the same one sending him texts, the same one Kaz had seen earlier, he was putting Kaz in danger. But when she'd gone into the restroom while he waited for their port, he'd had a chance to check the text he'd gotten earlier, the one he'd told Kaz was business.

Same blocked number. Same greeting. Not nearly as friendly a message.

Hey, RJ. Where'd you go? Sneaky bastard, aren't you?

Who the hell was it? This text had come before the incident tonight, but he hadn't gotten another message. There was absolutely no reason for anyone out of his past to want to hurt Kaz. None at all.

If anyone tried, he'd do whatever it took to stop them. She was already that important to him. But what of Kaz? Was he right to think he saw it in her eyes, felt it in the touch of her hand, the quiet glances? The sense that she was thinking of him beyond the job, beyond the fact that she was here as his employee?

Except he wasn't the right man for her, and it wasn't the right time. It would never be the right time. There was no way in hell he'd ever be able to reconcile the pain in her past with the horrible mistakes in his.

The phone in his hip pocket vibrated. Kaz was watching the piano player, so Jake took a quick look at the text.

RJ, buddy … you need to be more careful crossing the street.

Fuck. It was him. Who the hell was that guy? He pictured the man's face, the way he'd glared at Jake, but he didn't have a clue who he was, or why the bastard was stalking him. At least this was proof Jake had been his target, not Kaz. Thank goodness.

He glanced at her, at the serene profile as she watched the guy at the piano. He couldn't let her know, didn't want to worry her, but he'd have to watch carefully. At least now he knew who to look for.

She looked his way again and smiled. He sipped his wine, looped his fingers in hers. She didn't pull away. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand and thought about the night ahead, about sharing a room.

If she was willing, they could at least enjoy their time together. Really enjoy it. The visuals alone had him hard. Again. He smiled.