Floor Time (2 page)

Jack laughed and it sent another spark shooting from the top of her head through her entire body.

"Seriously, I know, I know. I'm just fucking with you."

"Whatever, Jack, I'm busy. Don't you have better things to do than call me up and throw the fact you stole a listing in my territory up in my face?" She pulled into the parking lot behind the downtown building that held her office, got out, retrieved her briefcase and slammed the car door. "Well," she shouted into the quiet phone.

"Relax babe, it's all good -- these people are gonna be a pain the ass, I can tell, so consider it a gift, from me to you."

Sara blushed in the empty car, remembering last night's dream, realizing what sort of gift she'd really like to get from him. She shook her head at herself.

"Gee, thanks,
hon
. Do me a favor and spare me at Christmas? I can't imagine what you'd consider an appropriate gift then. Take care now, bye-bye." She hung up before he could respond. Sara Jane Thornton stood and stared at her phone, completely amazed at herself. Christ, she'd just hung up on Jack-fucking-Gordon -- the goddamned master of the Ann Arbor real estate universe and recent star of her most explicit sex fantasies.

Stomping into her the storefront-style real estate office, Sara took deep breaths and poured a cup of much-needed coffee. Served the asshole right, really, she shrugged and sipped on her way to the front of the office. But his voice still echoed in her ears.

Jack grinned and put his arms behind his head. The blonde woman -- his new client, he reminded himself -- emerged from his bathroom, dripping from a shower. Suddenly, he badly wanted it to be Sara standing there with a well-fucked look on her face. The woman before him had an alarmingly predatory look in her eyes. He sat up, and made his way towards the bathroom. He had an eleven o'clock closing and needed a shower. She gripped his bicep as he passed.

"That was fun Jack," her voice, so sultry and appealing in days past, grated on his nerves now. He started to remove the hand she'd wrapped around his cock. Talking to Sara on the phone, imagining her smile, those eyes, had made him rock hard. He tried to find the words appropriate for the "thanks for the fuck, now leave" moment he was about to have. His nearly visceral need to feel Sara's body under his practiced hands was making him insane. But he had resisted, being a real gentleman about it, if he said so himself. Just observing her, asking around. The time had come, time to make his move.

"Yeah, baby it was. But I gotta get going." In typical fashion, his body took over, and he let it lead. "Oh, well, if you insist." He pressed her up against the door-jamb and swept his tongue into her mouth. As she wrapped herself around him, Jack let his body take over, as usual. The physical side shut down the part of his brain that was starting to remind him he was nearly forty, unmarried and unattached, and a little bored with his current lifestyle.

After the near-miss marital fiasco he'd endured out of law school he'd made a solemn vow: fuck first, questions later. It had worked fairly well. He'd built a reputation, made his first million five years ago without a family to support and had a virtual black book most men would give their left nut for.

He sighed and picked the woman up, dropped her onto his bed and proceeded to bring her to screeching orgasm with his lips and tongue before donning a condom and plowing into her body. He shut his eyes at the last moment, as his climax roared up from the base of spine and hit his brain. He hoped he didn't call out Sara's name, because hers was the face he saw beneath him as he came.

Intent on her mission to the fax machine and the email on her phone, Sara didn't even look up as she rounded the corner of the front sales desk. A sure grip on her arms kept her from plowing straight into a firm wall of strong, blue-suited torso planted smack in the middle of her front office. When she lifted her eyes they met Jack's. The look he shot her -- a little curious, somewhat questioning, a lot intense -- brought tingles to her scalp. To her knowledge, he'd never even darkened the door of the downtown office before today.

Could he sense she was having sex dreams about him? Did he read her like a damn book even though they weren't that close, merely fellow realtors at the same company? He had used his amazing charisma and stark, Black-Irish good looks to their full effect through the years. He was a millionaire twice over thanks to them, but had never entered into her -small orbit until now. His reputation preceded him and Sara's mind reeled with tales of female conquests in real estate offices, empty houses and various semi-public places.

"Whoa, hang on, don't go so fast, you're gonna hurt somebody," he laughed. Sparks flew from his touch straight to her core. His eyes widened; then narrowed, as if sensing her reaction. She made a show of jerking her arm out of his clutches.

"Hey, sell that Lansdowne house yet, big boy?" She threw over her shoulder, eager to get some distance between them before she embarrassed herself. Summoning every ounce of willpower at her disposal, she endeavored not to stare at him, open-mouthed, as he leaned against the counter in his dark blue suit, French-cuffed shirt and perfectly matched tie. Her brain did its little song and dance routine again reminding her that he was bad – very bad – and her own apparent, unfounded obsession with him had to stop.

"Hell no, and you know it."

"So why are you here, if not to aggravate me?" She pretended to fight with the fax machine. Anything but meet his eyes again.

The sales secretary appeared at her side in a flash. Sara frowned at the simpering look on the young woman's face as she stared at the man-vision before her.

"Hey Jack."

Somehow, Sara knew he had fucked her. The girl was practically lying on the counter to get his attention. Of course, he was a sight worth seeing, in his summer-weight suit and windblown, thick hair that begged for her fingers.

"What?" He dragged his eyes from Sara. "Oh, hey babe, how are ya?"

Incredible. He doesn't even remember her name. Sara, avoid this guy like the plague.

Sara's sales manager chose that moment to emerge from her office. "Jack, to what do we owe this distinct and, no doubt, well-planned honor?" Pam crossed her arms in front of her ample chest, looking over at Sara pointedly then back at him.

"Pamela, good to see you too," Jack faced her, one elbow still leaning on the counter. "I was just down the street in a meeting with architects. We're doing that kick-ass renovation over on Washington -- mixed-use – retail and condos. Should be done in about a year or so." He trailed off and looked straight back at Sara who lowered her eyes.

Sara couldn't concentrate -- which pissed her off. She was not about to fall into the guy's trap. Her brother Blake had filled her ear with warnings about Jack's bad-news reputation. She had neither excuse nor reason to be infatuated with him. Anyway, she needed to focus on Adam's closing and the recent hitch in their whirlwind relationship.

Screw Jack.

Oh yeah. Bad choice of words.

She breezed by him heading back to her desk.

 "Bye," he hollered at her retreating form. "Tell Adam I said 'hey."

That last comment made her turn to look at him. He had one eyebrow raised, still leaning on the counter -- a damn advertisement for manly perfection – absolutely the worst possible thing for her. Sara ground her teeth, turned back around and raised her hand in a mock salute good-bye.

Jack eased himself into the late-afternoon downtown Ann Arbor traffic. The near perfect waning summer day made him crank his car windows down, and the satellite radio up. He had money in the bank, a woman in his bed and frustration rustling around in his brain. He cursed whatever weak compulsion had led him into Sara's office. The strange impulses he'd fought for weeks since encountering her at that condo were annoying. He'd done everything he could to quell his need to see her, to touch her, again.

The blond client had provided some distraction from his alarmingly intense obsession with Sara but had proven to be a real handful lately. She wanted his near-constant attention. Sent him texts all day long, and had seemingly taken a vow to drain every ounce of his sexual energy. He always thought that well was pretty deep, but her clinginess had gotten real old, real quick. A couple of times she'd even pleaded with him to forgo the condom. The second time she'd asked, he'd cut the scene short, furious. He'd bolted from her place that night, his gut aching with something more than simple unrequited lust.

The phone buzzed insistently on the seat next to him. He sighed.
Back to work.
But his thoughts kept drifting in a Sara Thornton direction. This infatuation or whatever he had buzzing around in his brain was going to kill him if he didn't do something soon. Her perfume ghosted through his senses. Jack repressed a groan of frustration as he pressed the phone icon on the steering wheel, prepared to handle whatever shit storm had developed in the last half of his day. He idly wondered if she realized she was dating a man engaged to be married and made a mental note to stay on top of how that unfolded. She might need a shoulder, and he planned to position himself correctly when the need arose.

* * *

Sara dressed in her best suit the morning of Adam's closing. His purchase had been smooth -- a real anomaly in today's real estate market. As a mortgage broker himself, the loan portion had been seamless. Despite her pique at his recent disappearing act, Sara looked forward to seeing him and making up with a bottle of wine and cooler of cheese and fruit in his expensive, new, empty space.

What had started as a hot hook-up in the very condo Adam was closing on had led to an intense three-week period of dates, intimate dinners, and flowers delivered to her office -- the very sort of thing that many nearing-thirty-year-old women would have given a Manolo allowance for. Sara had loved it, had given in briefly to fantasies of big weddings and suburban McMansions. Her natural tendencies to avoid emotional connection, thanks to her parents' volatile relationship, had been hard to overcome but, she'd been trying.

The fact that Jack-fucking-Gordon, the client stealer, had inserted himself into her dreams and fantasies hadn't helped one bit, however. Sara had caught herself more than once picturing his bright blue gaze over hers, imagining his large hands on her flesh, all while she was supposed to be making love with Adam. Staring at herself intently in the hallway mirror of her small condo, Sara attempted to ignore the little voice that kept reminding her that the guy honestly was not so great in bed but, he'd made up for it with his wildly romantic gestures -- at least until recently.

She shrugged off the looming doomsday sensations.
Beggars can't be choosers
.
He is a great guy, who would make a very lovely, stable spouse and would no doubt coach little league and do all the shit your own dad never did.

Sara took a deep breath and tried to get her mind to pinpoint what was truly bugging her as she threw the car into reverse and mentally ran through the reasons she had to avoid a man like Jack, and hold onto one like Adam. The conversation she'd initiated with one of the agents who'd known him nearly ten years ran through her brain on a repeat loop.

"Jack Gordon? What d'you want to know? How many millions he's made or how many women he's fucked?"

The man could not possibly be interested in her. No way. Even enough to randomly stop by her office? Ridiculous.

The gossip she now got on a regular basis backed up his rep as a cocky, womanizing jerk and then some. The mature, good girl in her felt he was best left to the likes of her secretary or wide-eyed vacuous clients, like the one he'd stolen from her. Sara knew she was strong enough to resist Jack, but something about him made her want to see him, to be around him, and that compulsion irritated the shit out of her. The wind ruffled her hair and cleared her muddled head. Feeling stronger and more in control every minute, she parked in the title company's lot and gave herself a little pep talk.

Adam must be reacting as many men did when they started to actually feel something more than simple lust for a woman. Yes -- that had to be it. He had been trying awfully hard this week to get back in touch with her. Of course, she'd ignored him, making him work for it a little. Sara smiled to herself in anticipation of how she'd make her recent bitchy attitude up to him later.

Maybe she should settle down. Her mother, father and brother harped on it enough. She liked Adam and wanted her family to be happy with her. However, at the same time she truly enjoyed her independence. Something in her resisted the exterior pressure to "mate" and "reproduce" even at nearly thirty. She needed something else. Something she had yet to identify, but which had hovered ever closer in the past few weeks for some reason, just out of reach.