L.A. Caveman (11 page)

"I have to keep writing my column the
way I see fit," Stanna informed him, relentless. "I believe in
them. That's the only kind of writing I want to do for
Men's
Weekly
."

Jake felt admiration along with the
irritation at her stubbornness, but he didn't let on. "You're aware
that they won't be published as they are? That I'll change them,
rewrite them?" His voice was matter-of-fact.

"Maybe you'll find one you like. You
never know." With her chin raised, her voice radiating her
conviction, Stanna smiled at him calmly. "Even bull-headed guys
like you change your minds occasionally."

He smiled back at her, enjoying the
way her face softened and her eyes twinkled. He’d graduated from
“chauvinist” to “bull-headed guy.” An improvement? "It could
happen," he said agreeably.

"And monkeys might fly out of your
butt?" she teased.

"Now, Stanna," he scolded, still
smiling. "The first rule of writing is 'thou shalt not repeat
tired-out phrases,' as you well know."

A sly grin appeared on her face.
"Alligators might squeeze out of your--"

"That's fine," he hastily
added.

She cocked her head, still grinning at
him. A blond sheathe of hair swung gently around her shoulders, the
white gold of it glistening against her natural, healthy face. She
raised her eyebrows at him in a "what do you have to say to that?"
look. It was challenging, and subtly flirtatious. His breath caught
in his throat. Damn she was pretty.

He wanted their conversation to
continue. He wanted to find out more about this intriguing,
feisty-yet-feminine girl. But it was getting late. He wouldn't keep
her after quitting time.

Jake had an idea.

He moved slowly toward her, stalking
her. He eased into her personal space, looking down and gauging her
reaction. If she so much as flinched he'd back off. But she didn't
move, aside from a tiny tremor that ran through her small-framed
body. Her breath came faster. But resolute to the last, she held
her ground, smiling slightly, an expression even more charming on
her face when her eyes registered a sultry response.

Their mouths were inches from each
other when he spoke softly. "I've got a lot on my mind about
Men's Weekly
, and no one really to talk to about it since I
moved out here. Would you like to go for a drive up the coast and
talk about it?"

He was cool, this one, Stanna thought
as she smiled up at him and breathed, "Yes." His proximity was
getting to her, throwing off her equilibrium. She was affecting him
too, if his flashing aqua eyes and hungry body language was any
indication.

At her answer, he moved closer still,
until she tasted his breath. The humid heat of it made her want to
surrender to him, give herself over to the promise his eyes so
eloquently made to her. His body was as close to hers as it could
be without touching.

They had touched, last time. Now what
made her catch her breath with excitement was the realization they
were each capable of ending the exquisite tension, but neither of
them were willing to. It was a display of power on both sides, and
she trembled inwardly at what it might imply about a more intimate
encounter.

He ended it by taking a slow step
back. And another, making their distance respectable. "Ready?" he
asked, tipping his head toward the door.

If he only knew how ready
. She
immediately chastised herself for the thought. "Ready," she
answered, glad that her voice came out evenly.

He was so enticing, she thought as she
watched him scoop up his briefcase. He turned on a confident pivot,
smoothly moving in that jungle prowl toward her and the door. She
waited an extra beat in response to his "after you" gesture before
preceding him out the door. She knew he watched her with his
knowing falcon eyes, and she tried to stamp out her
excitement.

Her heartbeat accelerated. How
ridiculous. How inadvisable. She shouldn't be doing this, no matter
what her body was telling her. However, she’d be silly to turn down
the chance to influence him about
Men's Weekly
. But on the
other hand, the man already had more power than he knew over her
emotions. Getting into the dangerous realm, actually. But then
again, she found herself trusting his basic integrity.

Her thoughts see-sawed. Go for it.
Don’t even dare.

It played hell with her equilibrium.
"Jake, I'm not sure this is the best time--"

"Hey guys, heading out?" Michael
strutted into their path, preening in front of Jake so obviously
that Stanna would have laughed if she weren't so distracted. He
gave Jake a quick, subtle lowered-eyelid/lip pout, but the
expression was gone so fast she might have imagined it.

"Yep. Stanna and I are taking off.
What’re you doing here after five o'clock?"

"Working on this cover concept you'll
just love, Jake. I mean, it's a primo-magnifico eye-grabber. The
boys out there will simply devour it. I really hope you like it..."
Michael's flirty, little-dog-lost pathos had Stanna wanting to pat
his head and reassure him – or maybe kick him out of the way – but
Jake had a better idea.

"That's great. I wasn't too happy with
the other concepts offered in the art meeting. Show it to me
tomorrow, but don't stay too late. 'All work...'" Jake touched her
back gently, and they were moving again.

She heard Michael's poignant sigh
behind them, but was pretty sure Jake missed it. She suppressed a
grin.

They rode down the elevator. Memories
of the previous week, and the week before it, crossed her mind.
Things change fast,
she realized suddenly. With the
replacement of the editor, much of what she'd taken for granted had
altered. For example, here she was with a man who changed faces:
one minute he was a chauvinist pig who threatened her job, the next
he was the thoroughly competent magazine manager, and the next he
was a potential boyfriend who made her weak in the
knees.

He had to change his mind about modern
men, and
Men's Weekly
, if he were to be that last
one.

Jake walked ahead of her, leading her
to the reserved space where his Wrangler was parked. He tossed his
briefcase into the back then chivalrously opened the passenger side
door for her. She admired the forest green slightly metallic color
and ruggedness of the Jeep. It suited him.

"Nice Jeep." She tossed her own case
to join his in the back, then told him with a smile, "You know I'm
going to hammer at you about the magazine. The new theme won't
stick in the long term."

He grinned back confidently, as if
he'd been expecting her to say exactly that. "It will. I'll make it
stick."

She hopped up into the cloth-covered
bucket seat, smoothed her skirt. She lined up all her arguments,
prepared her rebuttals, and was ready to really launch into him as
he leaped into the driver's side seat.

But then he leaned over and kissed
her.

It was a peck, a hard, on-the-lips
silencing kiss. It ended as soon as it began, and he sat back
grinning at her while he turned the ignition key. The rumbling
engine prohibited talk.

She reached over and turned off the
ignition.

He was actually surprised, Stanna
noticed in bafflement. His eyebrows shot up and he looked at her
like he didn't know quite what to make of her.

It was sort of funny. But not
really.

"You don't want to talk, you want to
make out!" she accused scathingly.

"I wouldn't mind doing both." His
innocent voice made it sound like a joke, like the most casual
thing in the world. His eyes were warm and sparkled
deviously.

A smile tugged at her mouth, but she
suppressed it. "I
would
mind." Overruling the part of her
brain that hummed for more of his kisses, she flipped open her door
and hopped out, grabbing her briefcase and heaving the door shut so
quickly behind her that it nearly caught her skirt.

He watched her impassively, his head
tilted slightly. He looked so capable and masculine behind the
wheel. She had the impulse to jump back in and go with him wherever
he went, however he wanted to get there.

But she restrained herself. "I'll talk
with you about the magazine anytime," she offered
diplomatically.

"Tomorrow. At lunch." His voice was
distant and professional, without the smallest touch of the heat
and warmth threading it just moments before. He started up the
engine immediately, and tossed her a goodbye smile that didn't
quite touch his eyes.

Jake kicked himself all the way out of
the parking garage, from the subterranean 4th level on up the
spiral to the sudden bright square opening to the larger outside
world. He shifted his Jeep into third gear, accelerating onto
Wilshire Boulevard toward the freeway.

He didn't know who he was madder at:
Stanna, for not responding to his casual gesture of affection, or
himself for rushing things. He really did want to talk about the
magazine with her. She had a unique perspective.

He should’ve moved slower.

Weaving expertly in and out of the
commuter traffic, Jake pondered the situation. She didn't seem mad,
at least. Not really. She'd handled him promptly and firmly, as if
he were a wayward high-school date, he realized with
chagrin.

Which was pretty much what he'd acted
like.

Damn it, she brought out the impulsive
side of him he'd last seen when he’d dated Jolene.

His blood chilled in reflex. The
woman’s image, her glossy full black hair and matching mysterious
eyes rose in his mind. Just a memory. Just Jolene laughing freely
as she plucked at his dinner jacket and spoke in her intriguing,
accented South American purr:
"I'm going to marry you, handsome
man."
He smiled bitterly at the irony of that statement, for it
was less than two months later he'd discovered just what manner of
woman he’d nearly given his name to.

Jolene was a friend of a friend, and
he’d thought her some kind of angel sent to him in the rough week
after his parent's funeral outside of Denver. Comforting without
being intrusive, warm yet seductively affectionate, Jolene's
presence grew from something he enjoyed to something he wasn't
completely happy without. He'd never been more in love.

She'd played him well.

Her exotic, mysterious demeanor
included spending days at a time away from him, and not talking
about her past. Jake didn't question it. He was far too busy
cherishing her to pressure or cross-examine her.

It was a Sunday when his world fell
apart.

"
I'll be at confession, darling.
Which is all your doing,
" she teasingly scolded him that
morning and kissed him goodbye. She didn't know she'd left her
small tan wallet behind.

She was just driving slowly away when
he discovered it. It occurred to him she was driving without a
license, not to mention cash and credit cards, without her wallet.
He grabbed his keys and pursued her in his Jeep. She drove quickly
once she hit the main road -- more quickly than he’d seen before,
to the point of reckless driving. Surprised, Jake accelerated to
keep up.

She wasn't heading to church, of
course.

When she pulled off the road in a poor
section of downtown, he knew where they were. This was the area
she'd told him she lived with her sisters. For the first time it
occurred to Jake he hadn't met any of them yet. During the
delirious months they'd seen each other, she'd always come to him
or met him. She had a job with odd hours, a dull one about which it
bored her to speak.

She pulled behind a ratty converted
motel apartment complex, but by the time Jake pulled around she'd
already gone inside.

Drifts of garbage clotted the ground.
The cries of cranky children and the familiarly accented reprimands
of cranky mothers filled the dusty air. Rust stains and weeds were
the sole exterior apartment decorations, unless one counted the
beat-up cars up on cinder blocks. He parked his Jeep next to
Jolene's familiar late-model RX-7, noticing how hers was the best
car in the ragged little lot.

He’d actually felt a stab of remorse
for not realizing the conditions she lived in. She lived in this
rattrap with her sisters? She was the most patient, loving person
he'd ever met, to not breathe a word of complaint, or nag him in
the slightest for the marriage he knew she wanted. He resolved in
that moment to ask her to marry him.

He leaped down from his Jeep, her
wallet in hand. He heard her sultry laugh and smiled as he rounded
the corner.

His smile froze.

She hadn't seen him. Her arms,
completely covered by the white silky "church" outfit, were locked
around the neck of a stranger, and her lush lips pressed and parted
over his. Stunned, Jake only watched.

She giggled, breaking from him coyly
and taking his hand. "If that's a preview, I want the main course,"
the man said roughly, yanking her to him once more. "I'm paying
enough for it," he complained, maneuvering her towards the door at
her back. Jake tried to make sense of his words, and when
comprehension set in his world tilted crazily.