Intoxicated (6 page)

With her eyes closed, she could remember his scent, a mixture of soap and leather combined with a whiff of tobacco. She felt the touch of his calloused palms as they slid up her thighs and the tickle of his bearded stubble on her chin as he nipped at her neck. Her breath came short at the memory.
 

The phone rang and she jumped.
 

“Your lunch is here.” Penny, the crabby middle-aged receptionist buzzed in on the intercom, raspy voice tinged with irritation. She made no attempt to hide her dislike of Ally.

“Huh? What lunch? I didn’t order lunch.” Ally disconnected the intercom, but Penny rang back immediately.

“He said he’s not leaving until you see him.” Penny’s voice lowered to a confidential whisper. “I really think you’re going to want to talk to this guy.”

“Fine. Send him in.” Annoyed, Ally spun around in her chair and made a move to stand. “I have got to get a better receptionist.”
 

The door swung open. Jack strode into the office, looking cool and casual in a black cotton t-shirt with the word
Anarchy
splashed across the chest and black jeans faded to a soft gray at the knees. Under each arm, he carried a large brown paper bag. The scent of garlic and spices wafted in with him underscored by the clean scent of soap and aftershave. He flashed a blinding smile at her, all full lips and white teeth, punctuated by dimples. She’d never seen him in the daylight except in her daydreams. To see him standing live and in the flesh in the middle of her office rendered her speechless. A vague sense of anticipation pitted deep in her belly. It was a little like finding a panther in your parlor; beautiful and dangerous with the knowledge that something might get broken.

Too shocked to speak, she could only gape at him. Her office was large by most standards, but he filled the room with his presence. Even five paces away, she could feel the heat from his body and the pull of attraction.
And he’d brought food
. Her stomach growled, stirred to life by the delicious aroma of spices.
 

“Well, hello to you, too,” he said. Without waiting for a reply, he took a quick look around and set the bags down on the coffee table next to the windows. “Jesus, Ally. This view is fan-fucking-tastic!”
 

He stood in front of the windows with his back to her, showing the broad line of his shoulders and back, narrow hips, and the snug curve of denim over a perfect ass. The stark black lines of tattoos snaked out beneath the short sleeves of his t-shirt, at odds with the vintage chic of her office. Oblivious to her surprise, he turned and walked the perimeter of the room, trailing a hand over the furniture as he walked. He paused in front of the framed diplomas hanging on the wall and turned to cock an eyebrow at her.

“Double major
and
a masters? I knew you were beautiful, but smart too?”

 
Whispers and giggles from the hallway drew her attention back to the door of her office where two female marketing assistants lingered, eyes wide with admiration for Jack. With a stormy glare, she walked over to the door and closed it on their noses then swallowed hard to regain her composure by the time she turned to face him.
 

“Are you crazy? What are you doing here?” He was smiling at her, dimples ablaze. She tried not to smile back, but it was impossible. He’d been thinking about her, too. The idea warmed her insides like full blown sunshine after a thunderstorm.

“I brought lunch,” he said, striding back to the coffee table. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I took a chance on Italian. I hope that’s okay.” As he spoke, he delved into the bags and placed containers of food on the table. It was more than okay; the only thing she liked better than pasta was Jack’s dimples.

“Do you do this often? Surprise random women with lunch?” She peeked into one of the bags, intrigued.
 

“Never. And you are definitely not random.” The dimples flashed. “Look, I’ve got a tight schedule today, so we’ve got to make this quick. Gotta be out of here in thirty minutes. I’ve got two interviews for a new waitress. And God knows I need them bad.”

 
As he spoke, he placed two cloth placemats with matching napkins, plates, and silverware on the table then proceeded to pour sparkling Pellegrino into two plastic champagne flutes, garnished them with lemon wedges. The attention to detail surprised her. Just exactly what was he up to? This wasn’t some sleazy takeout; he had put thought into this meal. She tried and failed to think of any time that Brian had done something like this for her. Her traitorous stomach growled again.
 

“I don’t usually eat lunch,” she said weakly as another wave of delightful scents hit her nose. As a former fat girl, she gained weight just from looking at anything that smelled so wonderful.
 

“Bullshit.” He stopped long enough to give her an appraising look and shake his head. “I like a girl with a little meat on her bones, and believe me. Ally, you’ve got it all in the right places. Besides, I can help you work that off later.” One of his graceful eyebrows shot up in mischief.

The feast presented too much temptation to be ignored, no matter what the motives behind it. A colorful salad tossed with red wine and vinegar dressing. Tender chicken medallions nestled in a bed of angel hair pasta tossed with olive oil, sundried tomatoes, and artichokes to which he applied a dusting of freshly grated parmesan cheese. Garlic bread still steaming from the oven brought a fresh flood of saliva to her mouth. Another container held classic spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs the size of her fist. As if that weren’t enough, he opened a final container filled with two slices of cheesecake.

“I suppose I can take a few minutes.” Hunger pangs and physical attraction to him weakened her resolve. How often did a gorgeous guy bring lunch to her office?
Never.
She sat down in the blue leather wingback chair across from him, determined to enjoy the rare treat. “Where did you get this?”

“There’s a great bistro down the street. Remind me to take you there sometime. Giovanni, the owner, is a friend of mine. Which do you want? The chicken or the meatballs?”

“Can I have a little of both?”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise but smiled. “You can have anything you want, sweetheart.” He dished out a generous portion of each onto her plate. “Now –– you eat and I’ll talk.”

Her fork, laden with a hefty bite of angel hair, froze in midair. She had a thing about eating in front of men, the remnants of a chubby childhood. “No way. I’m not eating unless you do.”

“Fine.” He twirled a generous amount of spaghetti onto his fork and shoved it into his mouth. Satisfied, she took a bite off her own plate and moaned in pure ecstasy. It was delicious. He smiled. “Wait until you try the cheesecake.”
 

“I don’t eat dessert.” As soon as she spoke, she regretted the words. One look at the creamy wedges drizzled with black cherries and a dollop of fresh whipped cream brought a fresh flood of saliva to her palate. She had to watch every calorie that went into her mouth; she could gain weight just from looking at cheesecake. It was as if he knew all of her weaknesses and preyed upon them. “Tell me the truth. You’re the devil, aren’t you?”
 

He chuckled in genuine amusement. “I love cheesecake,” he replied, eyes glued to her lips. “But when I eat it, it usually involves nudity and a necktie.”

The image caused her to choke on a bite of chicken. He thumped her on the back but didn’t laugh for which she was thankful.
A necktie?
Holy crap!
Her insides quivered with all the possibilities that involved.
 

“You didn’t come to the bar last weekend,” he said. “I thought maybe you got back with your douche bag Brian.” With his index finger, he wiped a drop of tomato sauce from her chin then sucked it from his finger.
 

 
“He’s not my douche bag. Not anymore.” She took a piece of garlic bread, broke it into halves and dipped it in the spaghetti sauce.
 

“What did you ever see in that guy, anyway?”

 
She hunched her shoulders hunched forward and concentrated on her plate. “He’s not a bad guy. Not really. Sometimes good people do bad things. And as much as I hate to admit it, it’s not all his fault.”
 

He snorted and put another piece of bread on her plate then refilled her glass. If only he had something stronger to put in it.

“Somehow I doubt that. A guy would be stupid to throw someone like you away.”

The unexpected compliment warmed her, but she shook her head in disagreement. “No. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I’ve been pushing him away for a long time. I never had time for him. There was always something going on with work.”

“Are you still in love with him?”
 

There it was. The million dollar question. The very thing that had kept her awake for the last three nights. Did she still love Brian? It was hard to love someone who had conspired to deceive her. Staring into Jack’s brown eyes made it even more difficult to remember having felt anything at all for Brian.

 
“Why are you here, Jack? For real. And how did you know where I worked?” A prompt change of subject matter seemed prudent.

“I saw your ID badge in your purse the other night.” Jack leaned back into his chair. He had a way of looking at her as if she mattered, as if he saw something worthwhile in her. It sent shivers down her back. “Your nose is crooked,” he said. “Just a little. Right there.” He touched the bridge of her nose with the tip of his finger.
 

“I broke it when I was twelve.” She ran her finger over the length of her nose. “I fell off a horse. My dad always wanted me to get it fixed, but I don’t see the point, really.”

“Don’t.” He put a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up to stare into her eyes. Heat rushed into her cheeks under the scrutiny. “It makes you interesting…different…beautiful.”

The very notion that Jack, the epitome of male perfection, thought she was beautiful brought a hint of a smile to her lips. Her initial perception of him as a shallow womanizer and the reality of who he was were two very different things. Charming, witty, and handsome. A triple threat by all accounts. He was so much more than she’d ever imagined and every minute she spent in his company only intensified her pathetic schoolgirl crush. When he took his finger from her chin and leaned back, she let out a dreamy sigh. He brought her food, for goodness sake –
good food
– and he was looking damn fine today. What woman could resist that?
 

“I’m not going to sleep with you, Jack.” Even she wasn’t fooled by the conviction behind her words.

“Beautiful
and
presumptuous,” he said. “Did I say anything about sex? No. I didn’t. Besides, I’m still trying to make up my mind about you.”
 

She leaned forward and her blouse fell open to reveal the swell of one breast. The sweep of his gaze across her cleavage sent butterflies into her stomach as if he’d touched her there. How did that happen? One wayward glance from him had her panties in a twist. “So which one did you go home with last Friday? The redhead or Miss Ponytail?”

“Now you really are pissing me off,” he said with a scowl.

“I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just trying to understand. I’ve been going to Felony for a long time and you always leave with someone. I’m not stupid enough to think that you changed overnight.”
 

“That’s fair.” He brushed bread crumbs from his shirt and tossed the napkin onto his empty plate. “Believe it or not, I went home alone.”
 

His answer took her by surprise. She didn’t want to believe him, but one look into his dark eyes and she had no doubt that he spoke the truth. Eyes like that didn’t lie. The clarity of their brown depths spoke volumes about his sincerity. He stared back at her with one eyebrow cocked as if daring her to challenge his answer. She cleared her throat and tried to look away but couldn’t. No, if there was one thing she knew for certain, Jack didn’t lie. He didn’t need to.
 

She shook her head to break the spell. A few more minutes of his heated chocolate stare and she’d be flat on her back with her legs in the air. Then the office gossips really would have something to talk about. “Thanks for lunch.”

“We aren’t done yet.” He glanced at the brass and mahogany grandfather clock behind her. “I still have another ten minutes of your time.” She stood and he rose with her, a lithe and graceful motion. “You want to know what I think?”

“Does it matter? I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway.” She took a step backward and he moved with her, herding her backwards in a seductive dance until the backs of her thighs came up against the desk, so close that her skin prickled with a sudden rush of heat.

“I think that if you were really into Brian, you would’ve made the time for him. I think that you’re secretly relieved to be free of him and feeling guilty about it. I think that deep down inside you’re dying to break out of this cage you’ve built for yourself with someone who knows how to give a girl what she needs.”
 

 
Despite the climate controlled environment, her temperature shot up another degree. Those brown eyes bored into her, fringed by ridiculously long black eyelashes, the irises flecked with black and gold and turning darker by the second. “And I suppose you think that you have what I need.” It was a stupid statement; by the size of the bulge in his jeans, he had what every woman needed.