Looking for Love (Boxed set) (15 page)

He glanced at the bed where they'd spent the night. He would never forget the way Jenna had looked sprawled-out, dressed in her naughtiest lingerie just for him. She looked sleepy and tumbled from their lovemaking, and he wanted to grab her and start the night all over again.

She moved toward him at the same time he moved toward her. Their hands collided as he reached out to cup her chin. "I—"

"It was a wonderful night." Jenna said softly. "A great way to close our business deal."

His smile faded. "Yes, it was incredible, Jenna. It meant more to me than you know."

Jenna squeezed his hand and gave him a light kiss on the cheek, then brushed past him.

Suddenly he felt bereft at the loss of physical contact.

"The chemistry was there all right," Jenna said lightly. "I suppose it's good we purged those sexual feelings from our systems."

His jaw clenched. "Excuse me?"

She removed her brush from her purse and spoke casually, but her hand trembled slightly as she pulled it through her tangled hair. "I said it's a good thing—"

He cut her off by taking the brush from her hand and dragging it through the long tresses himself. "I heard you the first time."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I don't believe you."

She shrugged, but when she glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes were a little too bright, and he wondered what was going on in that pretty head of hers. "I promised you no strings, no commitments, Zack. That was what last night was all about."

"Jenna—"

"Shh," she whispered. She stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his mouth. "It was our fantasy night. But just a fantasy. So let's just leave it at that."

* * *

It was our fantasy night. But just a fantasy
.

Hell, it felt pretty damn real to him.

And leave it at that?

How could he leave it like that when he already wanted to do it again?

It was exactly the type of night he'd wanted. The kind of earth shattering, sexual encounter his dreams were made of.

So why the hell had her dismissal cut him to the bone?

He gritted his teeth as he entered his office. Several message slips were stacked on his desk, and he thumbed through them, prioritizing them as to whom to call first

But his body was taut with tension. Had Jenna meant they would never sleep together again? That once his work for her was done, that he'd never even see her again?

That they'd be friends.

Friends
? How could he be friends with her after tasting and touching every glorious inch of her body?

Friends meant chatting and having dinner and talking about dates with other people. Sharing sexual escapades. Invitations to each other weddings.

Perspiration trickled down his jaw. Hell, he didn't want to hear about her dates with other men. Especially her sex life with them. And he certainly did not want to see her walk down the aisle with some idiot.

He reached for the phone but as he went down the list returning calls, he could hardly focus. Instead his mind kept replaying that damned conversation.

Dammit. He should have been ecstatic, relieved even—Jenna had given him the perfect night, the kind of no-strings, wild, spectacular sex he'd only imagined existed before, then she'd let him off the hook without demanding more. Just what he wanted.

Or so he thought.

Now he wasn't so sure.

His stomach had a knot in it the size of a basketball, and he'd swallowed half a roll of antacids while he attempted to finish a bid on the detergent campaign. He'd never been so uninspired to draw in his life. At least not to draw something for an ad.

No, hell no. He sat down and did what he always did to purse his nerves.

He began to sketch. Jenna wearing that skimpy lingerie she'd modeled for him the night before. Jenna naked...

By god, he wanted to call her and ask her for a lunch rendezvous where they could both get naked again.

The sketches taunted him again. Jenna in that g-string, Jenna lying on top of the pillows watching him model for her, Jenna wearing the bridal peignoir set he'd seen hanging on the mannequin, Jenna pregnant.

Jenna and him wrinkled and old sitting in rocking chairs with dozens of grandchildren running around them.

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. The g-string was right. But the bridal set and Jenna pregnant... he wasn't ready for that.

The wind suddenly whipped through the window, scattering his papers, and he scrambled to retrieve them, then stuck the drawings of Jenna in his private portfolio and his work sketches into Washburn's file.

Damn. He glanced at his watch. He'd drop off the sketches, then check up on some of his other accounts. Anything to distract him from the woman whose sweet dismissal had jarred his senses like a bad toothache.

Hell, if he didn't think fast she'd probably go ahead with her stupid husband hunting farce and he'd lose her forever.

He'd do whatever he had to in order to keep her from writing him off.

Anything except walk down that aisle...

* * *

"So, how was your class last night?" Angel asked as she scurried into the shop for the afternoon shift.

"I missed it." Jenna gulped a mouthful of coffee and pasted on a bright smile, her eyes riveted to the floor where she and Zack had made love. She'd put the pillows and afghan in the back to take home and replaced them with others, ridiculously afraid that anyone who walked in would know what had happened the night before.

"What gives, Jen? Aren't you feeling well?"

Jenna faced her friend, grateful the lunch crowd had died down and the store was empty. "No, I'm not. I'm in love."

"But that's wonderful." Angel's brown eyes widened.

Jenna shook her head. "No, it's awful."

Angel rubbed her hand in circles over her abdomen. "Oh, no, honey. Not the anti-marriage ad hunk?"

"Uh-huh."

Angel sighed sympathetically, and Jenna couldn't help herself. She fell into her best friend's arms and began to sob.

* * *

Zack paced his office, the phone plastered to his ear, as he waited on Washburn to take his call. Finally, the man answered.

"I love the sketches," Washburn said without preamble. "Meet me in half an hour for drinks at the Blue Ribbon Diner on Third Street and we'll discuss the details."

"Great." Relief filled Zack at the excitement in Washburn's voice. They ended the call, and Zack dashed to his car, anxious to close the deal. Once he had this account, he would have some security. With financial stability, maybe he could concentrate on figuring out how to overcome his fear of commitment.

Then he could keep Jenna from continuing her foolish husband hunt. An idea struck him, and he grinned. Maybe he'd keep her so sated with his lovemaking, she wouldn't be able to even talk or look at another man. At least that could buy him some time.

What if she refuses to sleep with you again?

Panic clawed at him at the thought. But the cool air outside hit him like a breath of hope and he climbed into his car, contemplating how best to broach the subject. A billboard advertising a local restaurant sparked an idea.

He would handle Jenna exactly like he would an account he was trying to land. He'd run a full- fledged campaign with flowers, a romantic singing telegram, maybe even a cute, silly slogan.

He'd been saying no to marriage all along, but maybe he could persuade her to compromise. She could promise not to date anyone else until they resolved the explosive feelings between them. Yes, an exclusive arrangement might just do the trick and tide her over until their feelings played out for each other.

Maybe it would be enough. It
had
to be.

He picked up his cell phone, punched in the number to a local florist and ordered a dozen long- stemmed red roses to be delivered to Jenna's shop with a card that read, "Thanks for a fantasy night."

A few minutes later, he checked his appearance, glad he'd worn his nicest pair of chino slacks and a tie and strolled into the Blue Ribbon Diner. Washburn was sitting at a corner booth already sipping a frosty beer. He waved him over with a wide grin, and Zack relaxed.

You're right on time, young man. I'm glad you could come."

"I'm pleased things are working out, sir." Zack slid into the seat across from Washburn, accepting a mug as Washburn filled it from the pitcher.

"Let's toast and eat first, then we'll discuss the details,"

Zack raised his mug and clinked it with Washburn's, then sipped his beer, determined to remain professional. They ordered the lunch specials, steak and baked potatoes, and Washburn attacked his food the way he attacked everything else, with gusto. Finally, the man finished and wiped his mouth.

"Now, that was a fine meal." He cleared a space, removed the drawings Zack had dropped off from his brief case and opened the file. "You, son, are a genius. I never would have thought of using something like this to sell laundry detergent."

A drawing of some dirty boys dumping their grimy clothes into a washing machine—he thought that was ingenious?

"I must admit I was apprehensive about using a new man, but you seem to have a knack for knowing what sells." Washburn patted the checked tablecloth. "And a face and body like
that
will do it every time."

The kids were cute, but a body? What was Washburn talking about?

Zack's gaze fell to the drawings, and shock bolted through him.

Dear God, he'd given Washburn some of the sketches of Jenna, the first ones he'd drawn of her in the bubblebath! His eyes widened in alarm at the same time he lost his breath.

"Soak your troubles away in a nice bubblebath," Washburn read aloud. "Now, I like that, but I was thinking you might want to punch it up a little."

"But, uh, Mr. Washburn," Zack tried to explain the mishap, but he stumbled over his tongue.

Washburn's eyebrows furrowed. "Maybe,
Crystal White
is as gentle as a bubblebath," Washburn said with a grin. He chugged his drink. "What do you think?"

"No..."

Washburn's glass paused in mid-air.

"I mean, yes, the slogan is fine, but—"

"That face is really appealing, beautiful but down to earth," Washburn said, admiring Jenna's heart-shaped delicate features.

Beautiful and down to earth; that was Jenna.

Zack started to sweat.
Thank heaven, she was covered in bubbles, but what if some of the other sketches had accidentally gotten in there?

His mind raced as he fumbled for an excuse. He could say she was purely fictional, a composite of several women he'd seen, but then if Washburn insisted on using them anyway, Jenna might see them—along with half the U.S. population.

"You think she'll model for a TV commercial?"

"No... I don't think so. In fact, she was just someone I spotted in a crowd. But we can find a real model, I'm sure." He would not have Jenna's face and body plastered all over anybody's ad, much less TV.

"But I want
her,
" Washburn said. "So find her and tell her she can set the price."

Most likely my head on a platter,
Zack thought morosely. The waiter approached with coffee, and Zack reached for the drawings, ready to stuff them back inside so no one else could see. But he lost his balance and nearly tipped out of his seat. Washburn cleared his throat just as the waiter grabbed his chair and steadied him.

"Are you all right, son?" Washburn asked. "Can't handle the beer this early in the day?"

"I'm fine," Zack stuttered as he wiped his forehead. "But I really don't think this lady can pose for us," Zack said. "She probably has her own business, no time, I simply threw this idea in as a suggestion—"

"I don't want an argument," Washburn said, his chubby cheeks growing ruddy. "I want this woman's face in my ad. Now, let's drink to our deal."

Zack swallowed his protests, his mind searching for an alternative plan. He would find a substitute that Washburn would approve of, because he definitely couldn't tell Jenna about the sketches, especially now that they had gotten into the wrong hands.

Not only would she think he'd used her, she would kill him.

* * *

Zack pumped harder, working his legs and arms to a punishing frenzy while he jogged the last mile around the park. He'd called, but Jenna was at her class.

Dammit to hell and back. How could she make love to him, then go out husband hunting?

Because she'd given up on him...

"Slow down, man. What are you doing, trying to kill me?" Mark asked.

Zack sighed and slowed his pace. "Sorry, I've got a lot on my mind."
Like how I'm going to tell Jenna my biggest account, is based on whether or not she wants to pose nude in a bubblebath, and that I've been drawing erotic drawings of her ever since we met.

"What's wrong? Business?" Mark asked. "'Cause if you need a loan—"

"I don't need a loan." Zack stopped mid- track, then jogged over to a park bench and dropped onto it, panting. Mark followed and dropped down beside him.

"I really screwed up," Zack said, dabbing a towel across his sweaty face.

"Don't tell me, it's a woman."

"Worse. Business and a woman." He winced and looked at Mark, well aware Mark wasn't going to like what he had to tell him. Still, he needed advice. He'd belabored the problem all afternoon and was completely brain dead.

"It's Jenna."

Mark clenched his jaw. "I warned you—"

"Just shut up and listen," Zack snapped. "I really care about her, Mark."

That comment silenced Mark quickly.

"Well, man, I never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah, but I don't know what to do about it."

"Does she know how you feel?"

Zack remembered their intimate night.

Mark must have read his mind because he hissed. "Jesus, you slept with her, didn't you?"

Zack knotted his hands in his lap. "Look, Mark. I didn't trick her or seduce her or anything so don't go off on me, alright."

Mark simply glared at him.

"It just happened. We're both adults, you know."