Crashing Into Love (11 page)

She’d rather have him for dinner, and now that she had what promised to be a magnificent orgasm trapped inside her, she wouldn’t be able to think, much less eat.

“Sure,” she managed.

She dried off at a frantic pace and pulled his T-shirt over her head. It hung nearly to her knees, and it dawned on her that she had no underwear to put on. She knotted the end of his shirt at her waist and looked at the sweatpants with dismay. Not exactly the right attire to try to woo an ex-boyfriend back into her arms, but what could she do? She pulled them on, then rolled down the waistband to just below her belly button. Jake was a thick, muscular guy. Fiona wasn’t willowy, but she was going to have a hard time keeping these pants on for reasons other than the naughty thoughts racing through her mind.

She scanned the sink for a comb, then reached for a vanity drawer and hesitated. He could have anything in there. Another woman’s stuff, condoms, sex toys.
Anything
. Her stomach tightened, and not in the luxurious way it had when she was busy getting dirty while she was supposed to be getting clean. She decided against the show-and-tell scenario and finger-combed her hair, fluffed it as best she could, and tried to pinch the flushed look from her cheeks. No luck there, of course. She reached for the doorknob and her nerves prickled.

The bedroom was empty. Fiona let out a relieved sigh and took a moment to see just how different grown-up Jake was from the young man she remembered. The furniture was masculine and substantial, made from dark, expensive-looking wood. The brown bedspread was several inches thick and looked soft as butter. She glanced at the door, tiptoed over to the bed, and ran her finger over the to-die-for softness of the comforter, just like the T-shirt he’d given her to wear, which felt like an old favorite. This was a whole new side of Jake she’d never experienced before. He was always so easygoing, never giving two hoots about material things beyond typical boy toys—dirt bikes, hunting rifles, and cars.

The dresser had not a speck of dust on it, which told her that he paid his cleaning people well, because as organized as Jake was—and he was mighty organized for a man—he’d never been one to settle down long enough to do a load of laundry, much less dust.

He’s drying my clothes
.

Well, that didn’t exactly count. If she didn’t have her own clothes she’d have to wear his home, and she was sure he wouldn’t want her leaving with them. She picked up a framed photograph of Jake and Pierce from the dresser. It must have been taken in the last few years, because all the innocence and softness of young men was gone. They looked like rugged men, both unfairly handsome, as was their entire family. But they’d never acted like it when they were younger. She remembered noticing something different in Jake at the Brewery, something beyond the conflicting emotions in his eyes. He’d been tense in a way that had shaken her a little. It wasn’t until he’d stormed out with Sarah in tow that she’d realized what it was. She’d heard the rumors, seen pictures in the rag magazines. It wasn’t usual for a stuntman to be photographed, but Jake wasn’t just any stuntman. He traveled in circles of famous movie stars and dated some of the most glamorous models and actresses so often that the paparazzi had begun following him early on in his career. She knew he was a player of the worst kind, but to see it firsthand had shocked her. In all those magazines, she’d never once seen him look happy, and he hadn’t looked happy that night.

She gazed down at the picture in her hands, and the smile on his full lips reached his eyes. He was happy when he was with his family. He should be—he had a great family. A family who loved him and supported one another. Her family was the same way, or at least it had been before her father had left. Sadness washed through her. At least she knew her father, which was more than Jake ever had. Her heart squeezed at that thought.

“That was taken at Ross’s engagement dinner.”

She startled as Jake came to her side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop.” She set the picture down on the dresser.

Jake smiled, looking more relaxed than she felt as he placed a hand on her upper back and leaned in close. “Yes, you did.”

His husky voice sent a shiver down her spine. The fact that she heard a smile in his voice only made her feel more like a naughty girl who’d gotten caught with her hand in the candy jar.

He pressed his hand a little firmer to her back. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs.”

He sounded so relaxed that she wondered if she’d imagined the sexual vibrations between them.
Oh my God, that would be just perfect, wouldn’t it?
He walked behind her down the stairs, making her self-conscious. Jake used to love to tease her about how cute her butt was, and it was all she could think about now. She hadn’t spent much time worrying about how her body had changed since she was eighteen, and she wasn’t really worried about it now, but thanks to the heat of his gaze—which she didn’t have to see in order to sense—she was aware of her shape now more than ever and was glad she’d continued running all these years. Could Jake send any stronger conflicting messages? A minute ago she thought she’d imagined their connection, and now she could practically feel his eyes blazing against her back and her legs were turning to spaghetti again.

As they stepped into the living room, Fiona noticed that the whole house felt very masculine, and although Jake was masculine to his core, she wondered if he’d even had a hand in the decorating. She didn’t
feel
him anywhere in the house, except maybe in the bedroom.

She followed him into the spacious kitchen, where he opened one of the darkest wood cabinets she’d ever seen and handed her two wineglasses.

“Sorry I don’t have smaller clothes for you to wear.”

“No, you’re not.” She smiled with the tease.

He grabbed a bottle of wine and invaded her personal space, sending her heart into a frenzy.

“No, I’m really not.” His eyes darkened and locked on hers. “In fact, I kind of wish I was out of clothes altogether.”

This was the teasing, flirty Jake she knew and loved, but she didn’t trust that the angry Jake had left the scene that quickly. She followed him into a cozy, dimly lit alcove off of the living room, where he’d set a table for two. Even in the driving rain, the view of the city was amazing, all sparking lights blurred against the dark sky.

He pulled out a chair for her and scooted it in beneath her. She was surprised by how intimate his gestures were becoming and a little skeptical about what it all meant.

“So, you’re done being mad at me?” she asked while he filled their glasses. Dinner smelled delicious, and it looked even better. She hadn’t even known he could cook, but the meal before her was a visionary delight of different-shaped pastas, colorful vegetables, and a creamy sauce that made her salivate almost as much as Jake in his tight T-shirt did.

“I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion.” He sipped his wine and narrowed his eyes into a seductive gaze. “But you’re here, and we have history.”

“So…what? You feel obligated to be nice to me?”
Why did I have to ask that?

He leaned back and picked up his fork. “I don’t know what I feel, but it’s dinner and conversation. We’re not jumping in the sack together.”

Okay, then. Cleared that right up
.

She lowered her eyes and speared a piece of pasta, alarmingly annoyed. Why would she think they were going to jump in the sack? And with his reputation, why didn’t he want to? That should probably tell her more than his acts of generosity ever could. The problem was, she had no idea if it was a good or a bad message.

She stole another look at him, and his smirk told her he was trying to get to her. Well, two could play at that game.

“This is really good. Thanks for making it. I didn’t even know you could cook.”

His lips quirked up in a cocky grin. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Wow.
“A man who can cook—that is a talent. But a man who cooks wearing nothing but an apron, now, that’s a sight worth seeing.”

Jake held his fork up with a piece of pasta on a tong and looked at it as he twirled it slowly. “Aprons don’t hang low enough in the front to cover my junk, so I choose to go without.”

Fiona’s fork stilled halfway to her mouth, which went dry. She set her fork down and drank her wine in one gulp. Jake was quick to refill her glass.

“You were great on the set today.” She had to change the subject because Jake could outplay her in the sexual innuendo game. She didn’t even know why she’d thought she could compete.

His brows drew together. “All in a day’s work. You and Patch got pretty close, huh?”

“He was really helpful. Everyone was, actually. Even Zane was easy to talk to and super helpful.”

“Zane’s a good guy. He’s a close friend, actually.” Jake clenched his jaw, and Fiona knew she’d struck a nerve. She decided to play it up.

“You know, he’s even more handsome in person than on the big screen. He asked me if I was going to the cast dinner next Friday night.”

“Next Friday night?” He finished his wine and refilled both of their glasses.

“Yeah, Trish and I are going.” She sipped her wine, feeling more relaxed and bolder than she had before. Wine was her new best friend.

“Are you going to be there?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he grumbled.

“Great. Then we’ll probably see each other.” She was glad he couldn’t see under the table, where her feet were bouncing with nervous energy.

They finished eating
and
finished the bottle of wine. At some point Jake got up and fetched another bottle. When he returned, he sat beside her instead of across the table. They talked about Luke and Daisy’s wedding and how strange it was for Fiona to see Trish and Jake making a film together, which reminded Fiona that she knew someone else in the business.

“Well, you remember Kaira Pepper, don’t you?” she asked. Kaira’s family had moved to Trusty for her last two years of high school, when her father had tried to make a go of farming. After a heart attack took his life, Kaira and her mother moved back to Illinois, to be closer to her mother’s family.

“Everyone remembers Kaira. Hot little blond number, now a porn star.” He guzzled his wine.

Fiona leaned forward, absentmindedly placing her hand on his thigh. “She’s not a porn star. She’s a model.”

“Whatever. Same, same.”

“Totally not the same.” She finished her wine and suddenly became very aware of the feel of his muscles, hot and hard, beneath her hand.

“You’re right. I don’t even know why I said it. They’re not the same thing, but she really did do porn.” He took her hand in his and rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. She swayed, grabbing hold of his shirt for balance. His eyes went dark and sexy again, and it was all Fiona could do to keep from going up on her toes and kissing him. She fisted her hand in his shirt, telling herself not to do it, but her brain must have had a bad connection to her body, because she was lifting up on her toes with a bead on tasting those delicious lips of his.

No. No. No. Yes, please, yes
.

Jake slipped an arm around her waist and shifted his eyes away. She felt his body go rigid right before he took a step to the side, bringing her with him.

“Come on. I’ll show you a little of Kaira’s work.” His tone was gruffer than it had been a moment ago.

She felt her chest and neck flush as he guided her down a staircase and through a large room with a pool table and bar and into another, darker room with theater-style seating.
Wow
. The old Jake would have scoffed at theater-style seating, seen it as pretentious.

As he dug around in a cabinet, she realized what he’d said. Was he really going to put on porn?
Oh crap
. She wasn’t ready to watch porn with Jake. With a remote control in one hand, he sat on the floor in front of the seats and patted the spot beside him. Her heart melted a little. There was definitely still some of the old Jake in him.

He pushed a button, and every nerve in Fiona’s body strung tight as she waited to see what he was putting on. Kaira appeared front and center, wearing barely there lingerie and looking sexy enough for Fiona to consider changing teams.

“Wow. She’s totally hot,” she whispered. She heard Jake laugh under his breath. It was a welcome sound, which eased her embarrassment after almost kissing him—again.

“You’re right. It’s not porn, but she is nearly naked.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask why you have this.” She couldn’t take her eyes off of Kaira, strutting her curvaceous figure down a runway in front of a roomful of people, along with six other incredibly hot models who looked ten feet tall.

“Because she gave it to me.” He turned to face her, and she wondered if he was trying to get her jealous.

It was working.

“So…you dated her?” She hated the pitiful weakness in her voice.

“I don’t date, Fiona.” Angry Jake was back. Tension rolled off of him. “She wanted to get into acting and thought if I passed this along to my agent, he could help.”

“Oh.”
You don’t date?
She hadn’t really heard the rest.

“He couldn’t help her, but it was worth a try.” He turned off the video and faced her in the dark, leaning one arm on the couch behind her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”
Gulp
. Her stomach had tanked when she’d thought of Jake dating Kaira, and she knew that despite his clearing up that he didn’t date, her eyes probably still relayed disappointment. Not only that, but if he didn’t date, then why did she think she could win him over? Maybe he could see the hope in her deflating, too.

His tone softened. “The way you looked at me that time we went to the 4H festival and I accidentally let go of the helium balloon I’d won for you.”

She smiled, having forgotten about that. She probably was looking at him in the same way. “I wanted it for that little girl we’d seen in the wheelchair, remember?”

His hand dropped to her back, and she felt him fiddling with the ends of her hair like he used to, swamping her with warm and wonderful memories and filling her with hope.