NextMoves (2 page)

“Well, Jared Wyatt. Thank you for the suitcase, the drink
and more than one fantasy involving black silk boxers.”

His eyebrows shot up. A smirk of victory tugged at the edges
of those too kissable lips.

She winked with eyes heavy with too much responsibility.
“Unfortunately there are a few things I have to take care of. Safe travels
tomorrow.” With one last appreciative look at all that lean muscle, she squared
her shoulders and strode back to her room.

Jared pushed his hair off his face as he watched her go,
imagining her in the itty-bitty red lingerie that begged to be ripped to shreds.
His cock strained rock-hard against the constrictive grip of his zipper. She
was prickly and tight-laced but so much more burned underneath her custom-made
suit for someone who knew how to ignite it. To his surprise, the idea of
fanning the flame was damn appealing. Women usually withered under his gaze.
She seized it, toyed with it, and hurled it back at him. It turned him on like
a light switch. It was all he could do to stop himself from nibbling her pouty
lips and long, swan-like neck and losing himself in those lush breasts gasping
for air against her tailored silk blouse.

After his short-lived marriage, he hung a do-not-enter sign
to ward off all ambitious women. Cara never understood what drove him, loathed
what she termed “his minor aspirations”, and made his life a living hell over
it. He couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, a woman as strong as Cara had
him hard and heaving. A habit of blonde, girlish and submissive kept his bed
warm and allowed him to ignore the emptiness that claimed squatter’s rights on
his soul. Jocelyn was none of these. She bled power and control as if she were
born to it.

Yet there was more to Jocelyn than authority even if she
concealed it from the world. That young boy ruined a suit that must have set
her back several paychecks. Instead of going off halfcocked at the loss, she
stepped in to help the situation and tried to calm the child. Even with the
warning bells screaming in his head, she ignited something raw, primal that he
hadn’t felt in so long. And he liked it, wanted to let it out to play. She
might have said goodbye, but he didn’t. He took his phone from his pocket and
called the hotel restaurant, the only place around there to eat, and dinner was
a couple hours away.

When Jocelyn arrived for dinner, the restaurant was
overflowing. Staff had crammed stranded travelers into every nook and cranny
they could find. One of the hostesses took her name.

“Oh, Ms. Wade. We have a table waiting for you. This way,
please.”

“I didn’t make a reservation.”

“A Mr. Wyatt did and he asked us to seat you at his table.
You’ve arrived first. Follow me.” She grabbed a menu and nodded at the second
hostess, who picked up the phone.

Jocelyn ground her feet into the linoleum. Who the hell did
he think he was? Damn presumptuous to make a reservation without asking. She
should walk out the door and grab some peanut butter crackers from the vending
machine. But it had been a long time since she’d met a man with the nerve to
try something like this. Too long, the clenching of her thighs screamed at her.
Maybe a little flirtation, far from home, work and incessant obligations could
be fun. It was just a meal, no relationship potential she had to guard against.
What would be the harm? When her stomach started making bear calls loud enough
to grab the attention of half the restaurant, she opted for dinner and jogged
to where the hostess stood next to a small round table in the back corner of
the room.

A white tablecloth partially hid the red-and white-checkered
plastic cover. Sugar packets and condiment bottles competed for space with
lime-green ceramic candle sticks, Riesling on ice and caviar out of a can.
Framed photos ripped from old
Life
magazines covered the restaurant
walls, leaving snippets of black-and-red-poppy wallpaper visible. “Mr. Wyatt
should be here shortly, so just sit, relax and let us take care of you. Let me
start by pouring you a glass of champagne.”

Jocelyn swallowed a giggle. “Thank you.” She plopped down,
took a sip and enjoyed the bubbles tickling her nose despite the wine’s cloying
sweetness. Jared might have a controlling streak but he also had charm.

* * * * *

Jared hot-footed it to the restaurant after the hostess
called. He scanned the dining room several times until he found a much softer
Jocelyn. The auburn hair, no longer tied in a knot, spilled over her shoulders,
teasing that elegant neck he’d earlier ached to taste. A heart-shaped locket
dangled between full, shapely breasts showcased by a form-fitting v-necked
t-shirt. The informal look washed some of the power out of her and made her
look lighter, more vulnerable. Those full red lips promised wicked pleasures.
She was ice and fire all packaged up, waiting to be opened.
Good call,
Wyatt.
Peeling back some of the layers that made up Jocelyn Wade might
prove a delightful evening.

He sauntered over. “You wear casual well. I almost didn’t
recognize you.”

“Thanks, but I’m still deciding if I should hit you for
organizing dinner without asking or thank you for saving me from an hour wait.”

Still standing, he leaned in close enough to smell her
rose-lime scent. Subtly feminine, just like her. “Thank me, definitely.”

“I don’t know. This, uh, champagne could beat Splenda in a
taste test.”

His laughter joined hers. “Before we start the festivities,
I do have a condition.”

She scooted her chair closer to the table, away from him.
“Why do you follow up charming with annoying?”

“Just part of my magic. Here it is. No phones. Just you and
me.”

“You want me to take a night off?”

“Yep.”

Manicured pearl nails tapped the table while she considered
his request. “Okay, but let’s go whole hog, take work off the table. We can’t
discuss it at all.”

“Deal.” Plunking down in the chair across from her, he
poured himself a glass of the sparkling wine. “Aargh. You weren’t kidding.” He
chuckled, his eyes crinkled and abs rippled in delight.

Jared’s tendency to dictate terms annoyed most of her but a
part of her, so hidden she’d almost forgotten about it, reveled in a man tough
enough to try. She let herself melt in his way-too-blue eyes accentuated by a
teal shirt and the overgrown raven hair curling around an upturned collar. “You
were great with that child earlier. How’d you know what to do?”

“Can’t answer that. It’s a work question.”

Interesting.
“Let’s try this again. Sports are a big
part of your life. What do I win if I guess your athletic passions?”

“You guess my first love, you can choose the prize.”

“A gentleman, I’m impressed. Soccer’s the easy first answer,
but it’s neither your first love nor your abiding obsession. You, sir, have
been and always will be a fighter.”

His eyes widened so much she’d swear they’d pop out. “How’d
you know?”

“Your nose, broken several times. That odd angle to your
left eyebrow, it didn’t grow back straight after one blow too many, and the rhythm
of your walk. The alpha-male thing oozes out with every step you take. My dad
owned a boxing gym. I watched him train my older brothers.”

“Well done.” His voice burst with appreciation. “Before we
talk prizes, give me a chance to get even. Stand up and let me take a good
look. The skirt you wore earlier hid too much. I want more to go on.”

With a smile, Jocelyn stood, leisurely spun in a circle and
offered him a lingering look at her body. “Seen enough?” Her skin tingled as
his eyes consumed every inch of her tall frame. A hungry lupine grin crossed
his face. She was having fun and it felt wonderful.

“Middle distance track…and team captain.”

With a quirk of her head, she motioned for him to continue.
Next thing she knew he was at her side, his hand on the small of her back,
guiding her around one more time. “The lean solid muscles here,” his hand
trailed down her spine, across her waist to her thigh, “and here indicate a
life of running distances.”

He paused and shuffled closer. Musk and sandalwood filled
her nose. His mouth hovered over hers, near enough for a kiss. “And no, I
haven’t seen nearly enough.”

Fingers flitting across her thigh and the hint of skin
against her lips had her body clenching in anticipation. “Seems we’re tied for
first place.” Hunger burning white hot through her veins, she dived onto the
seat and crossed her legs, desperate to get the pulses whipping through her
body under some kind of control. Flirtation was one thing. The heat between
them was growing into something altogether different.

The waiter bought her some time, trying to cram steaming
plates of pink seafood, bowls of plump, cream-covered berries and sides of
green and yellow vegetables on the overcrowded table.

“What turned you on to boxing?” Jocelyn asked, feeling
steadier.

“My coach. I got into a lot of fights as a kid. The school
convinced my aunt to sign me up for a boxing program to channel my youthful
energy.”

“You must’ve been carrying quite a lot of anger. Why?” Maybe
she shouldn’t have asked that question. Whether it was the wine or his intense,
unwavering gaze reprogramming her brain, she wanted to know more about him.

“Nothing like going for the jugular.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dig too deep. I’ve got scars of
my own so I do understand.”

He patted her hand. “No worries, I’m a big boy, it’s an old
story. I don’t mind sharing.”

He shifted back in his seat and brushed imaginary lint off
his pants leg. “It’s simple, really. Never knew my dad. My mother couldn’t
handle it and left me with an overworked aunt. Frannie raised me the best she
could but I ate babysitters for breakfast and had too much energy for a
one-bedroom high-rise to contain. School was no better. Teachers missed my
dyslexia. Put those ingredients together…the perfect angry-child recipe.”

Pain sliced through Jocelyn’s heart. His cold, neutral tone
sounded too practiced. The big boy still carried little-boy hurts inside. Her
daughter grappled with attention deficit disorder and she knew firsthand the
frustration and loneliness Kylie suffered. Even with an absent father, Kylie
still had a family to support her. Jared had fought through it alone.

“Boxing saved my skin and bought me a ticket to a better
life.”

And one ripped, sexy body.

“Why didn’t you put on the gloves? You have the gumption and
I’d bet my last nickel that you spent your childhood trying to beat your
brothers.”

Her chin hit her knees. No one figured out she wanted in the
ring. Ever. His tone made it clear he approved of it. She chewed the lining of
her cheek to control the desire blasting her control to shreds. “My dad said
no. I made his life a living hell for it but then my mom got cancer. The chemo
knocked her out so I had to help around the house. I let it drop.”

“I’m sorry about your mother.” Jared leaned forward. His
tongue licked along his full bottom lip. She wondered what those lips tasted
like. His stare bore into hers. “This conversation is getting way too serious.
Let’s lighten it up. Tell me something about yourself—something secret,
something that reveals more about you than a job title or an address.”

Never breaking eye contact, he brushed an auburn curl behind
her ear. The softness of his fingers sliding against her skin distracted her
into silence. “Tell me,” he said. The male heat of him fed the fire already
consuming her.

Her brain too scrambled for rational thought, she pulled her
t-shirt and bra strap to the side. “Here, Thor’s hammer is tattooed above my
heart.”

His hand blazed a trail from ear to throat to tat. With the
edge of his nail, he traced around the hammer. The heat radiated down her
breast and she leaned toward him, wishing those fingers would stroke her
tautening nipple.

“So, what does that tell me about you?” The rasp of his
voice brought her back to the table.

“That I was naïve once. Nick Thorsten was blond, built and
Thor-like in all ways down to his hammer tattoo. This was my wedding present to
him, to show the world I belonged to him. He left two years later, when life
got too hard, the responsibilities too overwhelming. I never saw it coming.”
Jocelyn averted her eyes to hide the pain that still welled up when she let
herself think about Nick, a bad habit she’d suppressed long ago.

Jared’s fingers glided up under her chin and lifted her face
to his. “Why didn’t you remove it or have it altered?” He brushed his lips
against hers, fast and light like a whisper. A shudder slinked from lips to
pussy. She should move away. Far away. They were long past flirtation. If she
didn’t stop this… His eyes locked on to hers and stopping it got pushed to the
bottom of the options list.

“I thought about having it removed but I keep it as a
reminder—that lust isn’t love and that trust comes from actions, not promises
whispered sweetly in the dark.”

“I burned all photos and tokens of my ex. I wanted no
reminders.” A tic spasmed in his jaw. His face tensed into a blank mask.

Jocelyn couldn’t stop herself from reaching out, running her
fingers down his rigid jawline. “Tell me.”

“We’d been married for three years, fighting continuously
for the last year of it. She put her career ambitions first, never understood
why I didn’t do the same and too much of us got lost in her decisions. Having
my choices questioned all the time wore me out.”

Awareness ripped through Jocelyn’s gut. “I remind you of
her.”

“You remind me of why I once loved her—strength,
fearlessness, passion. I had lost sight of that.” His face tensed, emphasizing
the tight angles of his chin and cheekbones. Grabbing her hand, he brought her
fingers to his lips and kissed them. “And I remind you of him, don’t I?”

She nodded. “Yes, an explosive cocktail of charm and
caveman.”

His laughter was a live, sexy thing that wrapped around her
body in a rough caress. His lips slid across her palm, making butterfly-soft
kisses. “Let’s reawaken those pieces of ourselves, let them into the light
again. Spend the night with me?” His intensity rolled over her, drowning her in
her own need as well as his.

There it was, on the table. A promise of healing and
pleasure wrapped up in shimmering eyes, wide shoulders and a killer smile.
Hell.
She needed to rediscover her heart and taste a little joy as much as he did.
One night. No commitments. That she could do.

She took her hand back, dipped a finger in the caviar and
licked it off. Her tongue glided across the edge, lapping at the gelatinous black
eggs. Putting it in her mouth, she sucked the remaining juices.

Jared’s gaze never strayed from her lips as he leaned toward
her and placed one hand on her leg. “Is that my answer?”

Finished, she picked up a strawberry and traced it along his
lower lip. “Play with me.”

He swirled his tongue around the end of the berry then
nibbled the tip, his fingers teasing the inside of her thigh. “Maybe we should
have dessert upstairs.”

Jared could barely think as he took her arm and they headed
toward the elevator. Her scent and lush breasts pressed against his arm
unleashed a fury of desire in his belly. His dick strained to escape his jeans
and his mouth watered to taste her long, creamy neck, overripe lips and swollen
nipples her shirt couldn’t restrain. Her power called to him, promising a night
of physical abandon and the chance to cut loose with a woman whose need and
ferocity equaled his. She’d not only take him, she’d drive him. The fight in
her an aphrodisiac that juiced his brain and body.

Even as lust bled from his every pore, he knew he headed for
something more than sex. One night, maybe, but the evening promised meaning and
a remembrance of something long lost. He was going to enjoy her and relish the
pleasure of once again loving a woman whose strength matched his own.