Looking for Love (Boxed set) (11 page)

The dangerous kind who could hurt him.

Anger wormed itself into his conscious as he contemplated her husband hunt—would she fall apart in another man's arms the way she had his? He ground his teeth together at the mere thought of her kissing another man.
No way.

Dragging his weary body up the steps to his apartment, he let himself in, stripped off his sweaty running clothes and tossed them into the washing machine, then opened the new box of soap, complements of his potential client. Washburn's Laundry Detergent—they were calling it Crystal White for now. The stuff smelled like spoiled lemon pudding and reminded him how much he hated doing laundry.

So how the hell was he supposed to think of some catchy logo for washing powder? Especially when the name, Crystal White sounded more like a soft drink than a soap. They needed to name it Tornado or Hurricane, something catchy and strong, something a man wouldn't mind putting into his shopping cart. Only a woman or a wuss would buy soap named Crystal White.

Padding naked to the shower, he lathered his chest, his arms and legs, wishing he could cleanse Jenna's scent and sexy, sweet eyes from his mind the way he could wash the grime from his body.

But no, he had a feeling she'd conquered his heart somehow and he'd have a gaping hole left there when his business with her was finished. He towel-dried, pulled on a pair of boxers, grabbed a beer and a two-day-old slice of pizza from the fridge and bit into it while he pulled out his sketchpad.

He could not have Jenna Barrett. No one-night stand, no fling, because she wanted it
all.
He couldn't make empty promises the way his old man had, not ones he knew wouldn't last. He'd bury himself in work, finish her campaign, land this new account. Hell, he'd be so busy with customers and work he wouldn't have time to think about her.

He just had to get his act together. As if on cue, the telephone jangled. He answered it, hoping on some wild whim it might be Jenna. Instead his latest client's deep baritone boomed over the line.

"West, this is Washburn. I've been thinking about our meeting."

"Yeah." This morning he'd bluffed his way through the meeting with Washburn, but he wouldn't be able to do that again. The old man was too shrewd.

"I need to wrap this thing up and get moving. Can you have something for me by Friday?"

"You mean this Friday, sir?"
That was only three days away.

"Yes, West, this Friday." Washburn cleared his throat. "The Templeton Agency called and they have their plan outlined. But to be fair, I wanted to give you a chance, son." He cleared his throat. "I remember what it was like to be young and just starting off. I admire a man who goes after what he wants."

Sweat beaded on his lip.
Then he should be going after Jenna.
"I appreciate that, sir. I'm sure I can have something to you by Friday."

They set a time for their meeting, then Zack hung up, the cold pizza burning a hole in his stomach. He had three days to design a brilliant campaign or he would lose his chance at this account. And if that happened, his one-man, fledgling company would struggle, floundering worse than his love life.

And if he won the account, he could at least give himself a paycheck and have a little stability.

Hell, if he worked enough, he wouldn't be able to think about not having a lovelife.

Forcing his mind to his task, he propped the soap box on top of the TV, then drew an outline of the box of detergent. But his creativity was quickly dulled by the sickly greenish color of the package. Maybe he'd suggest a different packaging, something bold and bright, maybe an emerald green with soft yellow and white flecks.

Hmm, he drew the box and redesigned the package, including soap swirling in the machine with the word Tornado written in bold letters above it. Much better. He let his hand do some free forms, brainstorming, and drew some scenes of families doing laundry, a family on the beach with the sun shining, boys traipsing in the house with dirty clothes just as he and Mark had done when they'd been rough- housing when they were small. Then he sketched a baby with red hair and big green eyes playing pat-a-cake in the mud.

He stared at the deep green color of the box, realizing he'd chosen it because it reminded him of Jenna's eyes. And the baby—the tyke could have been a little Jenna.

Damn. His hand moved of its own accord and once again he found himself drawing pictures of Jenna. Jenna in the store today, Jenna wearing nothing but the red garters he'd seen dangling from that Christmas tree, Jenna tossing the rose-scented bubble bath into an antique clawfoot tub. Jenna slipping into the sea of bubbles, then emerging later in all her glorious nakedness one beautiful inch at a time.

Soak your troubles away in a warm bubble bath,
he scribbled at the top...

He closed his eyes, allowing the creative part of his brain to take control and run wild, hoping some seed of genius would spring to life about the detergent ad. A few hours later he woke up and realized he'd fallen asleep with his hand curled around the book, and he'd been dreaming about doing laundry and
enjoying
it. Because he was washing soft red teddies, silky boxers with jingle bells on the front and... baby clothes?

He
had
to be losing his mind.

But he'd also dreamed of a great slogan for Jenna's ad. Maybe he'd drive to her apartment and see if she was still awake.

Only what if she was there with another man?

* * *

Zack stared at his watch and forced himself to wait a good five minutes in front of Jenna's apartment before leaping from the car. It took him another two minutes to collect his portfolio and make it up the sidewalk. His legs were quaking and he almost slammed the door on his hand. He rapped on the door, impatient when it took Jenna several minutes to answer.

When she finally opened the door, his pulse spiked at the sight of the long, silky robe she wore; the damn thing had melted to her figure in all the right places. And knowing she probably had nothing or next to nothing on underneath the robe made his blood go from cold to hot.

"Zack?" she asked softly, a rosy flush on her checks. "What are you doing here?"

Damn. His body was already hardening. He was in big trouble.

"Zack?"

He was so nervous he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, the slogan he'd dreamed up for her ad, "It's what's underneath that counts."

Chapter 7

"Excuse me?" Anger flushed Jenna's cheeks. She tugged her robe tighter around her, both ridiculously pleased and frustrated at the heat in Zack's eyes as his gaze raked over her silk-clad body.

"It's... oh, sorry, I didn't mean to just blurt that out," Zack said. But his gaze settled on her breasts and she gripped the edges of her robe with enough force to shred the fibers.

She had had enough.

Charming Charlie had made lewd comments to her all night during class. "I believe men did descend from apes—and you haven't come very far either!" She slammed the door in his face, furious with the entire male species.

The doorbell rang instantly.

"Go away!" Zack West was the last man on earth she wanted to see, damn his sexy hide.

"Jenna, I'm sorry. What did I do?"

"Don't tell me you don't even know."

Silence. Then he said softly, "No, I... apparently not."

She swung the door open and glared at him in the darkness. She hated him for being a commitaphobic. But most of all, she hated him for making her want him.

"You were looking at me as if you could see me through my clothes. Then you said that... that—"

"Well, I couldn't help it. You look sexy as hell standing there, wearing practically nothing and—"

"It is not nothing, it's a
robe
!"

"Whatever!" Zack threw his hands up as if she'd lost her mind.

Jenna exhaled and inhaled, striving for calm as she stared at the way the strands of his hair brushed the collar of his denim shirt, the way his jeans hugged his thighs, the way his caramel colored eyes sparkled with confusion in the moonlight. Then she spotted the portfolio tucked under his arm.

She gritted her teeth, wondering if she'd somehow misunderstood him. His unexpected appearance had really rattled her. When she finally looked at Zack again, he was watching her, his thick blond eyebrows arched.

"Um—I came up with a slogan for your store. Dreamed it, actually."

"It's what's underneath that counts," they both said it at once.

Jenna suddenly realized she
had
misunderstood him. "I do like it. Now come on in and let's celebrate."

Zack felt as if he was walking on air as he entered. He hadn't expected her to invite him in, but he wasn't about to refuse.

Her eyes rose to meet his and his heart clenched at the vulnerability in her face.

"You really like it?" Zack asked.

"Yes, but I don't have to tell you it's good. You know it is." Her rose-pedaled lips lifted into a smile.

Beside them the fire crackled and popped, red and orange flames flickering like a halo around Jenna's fiery red hair.

Zack groaned inwardly, battling the urge to kiss her again.

Walking away from Jenna is getting to be impossible.

"You want to stay?" Jenna asked. "I rented a movie."

Zack hedged and Jenna frowned. "Sorry, you probably have plans tonight, a date maybe..."

"No, not date." Now why in the hell had he admitted that?

Staying might lead to sex and he wanted sex, but he shouldn't have sex with his client.

But the cozy room beckoned him, just as the sweet yearning in Jenna's eyes whispered his name. Desperate for a distraction before he yanked her in his arms and carried out his fantasies, he latched onto the video on the end table. "So, what movie did you rent?"

Jenna shrugged sheepishly. "
Sleepless in Seattle.
"

"Oh, a chic flick."

"It's a good story. You might actually like it if you tried. "

Her words were spoken like a challenge, and Zack never backed down from a challenge. Besides, the way her hips swayed beneath the flimsy fabric of her robe mesmerized him. "Really?"

"Yes. I ordered a pizza, too, if you're hungry."

God, yes, he was hungry.

She went to the refrigerator and grabbed two beers, then handed him one. "Here, relax. The pizza should be here in a minute."

Zack settled on the sofa, his pulse racing as he watched her uncap her beer and take a sip. She was the most down to earth woman he'd ever met.

The doorbell rang, and she rushed to get the pizza, slid two slices on a paper plate and brought it to him, then returned to sit beside him with her own plate. He licked his lips at the smell of the hot marinara sauce, his sex hardening at the way her tongue flicked to capture a piece of pepperoni sliding off her plate.

The soundtrack piped up though, jerking him back to his senses, and he forced himself to watch the movie instead of Jenna. Because every time she took a bite of her food, he wanted to capture her mouth with his.

Slowly though they both relaxed, growing more comfortable together on the sofa. He shed his shoes and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

She ended up lying with her bare feet in his lap. Then he stroked and massaged the soft curve of her toes while the hero and heroine finally managed to meet at the top of the Empire State Building.

Jenna's eyes were teary, but she looked at him and smiled, and he pulled her into his arms, unable to resist holding her.

She cradled her head in the crook of his shoulder and traced her finger around the buttons of his shirt, her fingers snaking inside and gently massaging his chest. He shifted, kissing the top of her head, closing his eyes when he inhaled the erotic scent of roses.

"So, what did you think?" she asked.

"Definitely a chic flick," he said honestly.

"But incredibly romantic," Jenna whispered. "She knew he was the right man for her from the moment she heard his voice."

He didn't believe that crap.

Sure, a person's voice could seduce another. Jenna's sweet melodic tone certainly aroused him.

But knowing the person was
the
one? How did anyone know if a relationship would last?

She traced a finger along his jawline though, and he forgot about the movie and the doubts clawing at him. Instead, he decided to seize the moment.

He hugged her tighter to him, the mood of the evening subtly changing as he became aware of the undercurrent of need in her touch.

"What are you thinking, Zack?"

"That romance in the movies... it's not real life."

"You really are a cynic, aren't you?"

"I can't help it," Zack admitted.

She leaned her chin into her palm and looked up at him. "My parents are a good example. You may think they had it easy and that's how they lasted but it's not true. They got married in college and both of them worked their way through school. Money was tight."

"How did they manage?"

"On love I guess." Jenna's tone turned pensive. "Jeff was born before my mom finished her degree. She had to quit for a while and work to help Dad finish his education. When he graduated, she went to school at night. But then Mom got pregnant again."