Intoxicated (8 page)

“I like to fish here,” he said. “The guy who owns this place is a friend of mine. He’s the one who suggested I bring you here.”

“You talk about me with other people?” That notion brought a sudden rush of pleasure.

“Seems I can’t keep off the subject lately.” He grinned and rolled over onto his side. With a blade of grass, he stroked along the length of her calf. The skin puckered into gooseflesh. “What about you? Do you ever talk to your friends about me?”

“I don’t really talk to many people,” she said. “I’m too busy with work and I like to keep my personal life private.”
 

“That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he replied. “So what do you do for fun?”

 
“I work. And I like to read,” she added. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. The sun had lowered in the sky and beat with full force upon the meadow.
 

“If work was fun they’d call it something else. Jesus, it’s hot.” He sat up and pulled off his shirt to reveal the rippled perfection of his taut abdomen. She swallowed hard and tried to look away but couldn’t, fascinated by the play of light and shadow on his bare flesh. “Don’t you ever hang out with friends or take vacations or anything?”

How could she explain that up until about an hour ago, her life had consisted of nothing but work? Or that she was too embarrassed to see her friends after The Breakup? Unwilling to comment, she looked down at her bare feet and wriggled her toes in the grass again.
 

“I like to hang out at Felony,” she confessed, peeking up at him through her lashes. “Becca and I used to go clubbing every weekend. That was fun.” Despite her best efforts, a note of sadness crept into her voice at the thought of Becca.

“I’m sorry that they did that to you.” His large hand covered her smaller one and squeezed with surprising tenderness. “But I’m not sorry you broke up with Brian. Dude’s a loser. I’ve been waiting for you to ditch his ass since the day we met.”

The confession caught her off guard. She looked up and found him staring at her, his dark eyes hooded and watchful.

“Look. I’ve never really been good at beating around the bush, so I’m going to be straight up with you.” He shifted to face her. “I want you. I’ve wanted you from the first time you walked into my bar. I’ve been watching you and thinking that you would never give me the time of day. Hell, just sitting here with you is a dream come true. And if that’s all I can have, then I’m fine with that. But I would give anything to spend the night in your bed.”
 

All the heat in her body rushed into her cheeks. She felt mildly dizzy and short of breath with her heart pounding like a jackhammer against her ribs. The blade of grass fell to the wayside and was replaced by one long forefinger that trailed up and down her leg, whisper soft and seductive.
 

“It’s always about sex with you, isn’t it?” She shook her head to clear away the cloud of lust that his fingers inspired. “Not everything in life centers around your…around
that
!” She nodded in the direction of his crotch and frowned.

One thick black eyebrow lifted in query and he grinned. “Ninety-five percent of everything centers around
that
. The other five percent is about food.” He grinned and patted his stomach. “And now you know the secret of all men.” He slid closer until his leg pressed against hers. “As for getting you into bed, I’ve never been more serious in my life. I just need to know that you’re done with Douche Bag Brian.”

 
“I’m done,” she said with a finality that surprised her. “I never dreamed it would happen, but I’m done with him.” With the words out of her mouth, she felt a little lighter.

“Good choice.” Jack raised the back of her hand to his lips and placed a warm kiss there. “You don’t seem too broken up about it.”

“I’m not. I’m kind of relieved.” She had had no idea how high maintenance Brian had been with his irritable bowel syndrome, numerous food allergies, and general dislike of anything unscheduled or unplanned, until she was actually rid of him. Maybe Becca had done her a huge favor by taking him off her hands.

“You know, in all the times I asked you about him, you never once said that you were in love with him.”

The astuteness of that statement startled her. Of course Jack, in his forthright manner, had pinpointed the issue with stunning alacrity. Brian had said he loved her only a handful of times during their relationship and four of those times were in the aftermath of being caught in bed with her best friend. She, on the other hand, had never said it back to him – not even once. Having been raised in a household where no one ever discussed feelings or emotions or of any kind, it had never seemed important.
 

“I don’t really believe in love or soul mates or any of the sappy crap that goes with it. Maybe I’m immune to love,” she said with a sigh. She took the wine bottle and swallowed a mouthful. It was dry and fruity with a smoky aftertaste that went well with the cheeses.
 

“Bullshit. No one’s immune to it. It’s like air. We can’t live without it. It’s the most sought after commodity in the world. People kill in the name of it. Wars have been fought over it. Desperate people try to buy it. There are songs and books and movies written about it. So don’t try to feed me that crap. You’re no different than anyone else.”

“And what about you? Have you ever fallen in love?”

“Every damn day of the week and twice on Sundays. Problem is… I fall out of love the next morning.” The elusive dimples appeared in his cheeks. “You’re trying to change the subject.”

“I’m not. I think we’re talking about two different things. I’m talking about love and you’re talking about sex.”

“Depends on your definition of love, I guess. You can have one without the other, you know. Haven’t you ever had sex just for the sake of sex? No strings? No expectations? A little heat between the sheets?”

“No. I haven’t.” She’d never even considered the notion. The admission seemed silly in front of a guy who made a sport out of promiscuity.
 

He traced the curve of her jaw with a finger and leaned in to kiss her. His lips brushed against hers, the tip of his tongue touching and teasing her tongue. The playful kiss brought a rush of blood to her cheeks. When he pulled back, he said, “You don’t need a relationship to have sex. Sometimes it’s better that way.”

“You just don’t get it.” She sighed and rolled her eyes up to the thick canopy of branches overhead, seeking divine intervention and finding nothing but a cloudless evening sky streaked with tones of pink and lavender. “I wasted eight years of my life on someone with that exact mentality. Why in God’s name would I repeat the same mistake? I can’t take another humiliation like that.”
 

She scooted away from him, seeking to put a few inches of daylight between his thigh and hers. He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her back to him.

“Where are you going? Get back over here.” She acquiesced and had to admit that it felt good to sit next to him with his hand on her thigh as if she belonged there. “I am nothing like that douche bag and it pisses me off that you think so.” He placed a forefinger under her chin and tipped her face up to his, dark eyes narrowed. “He played you. He lied to you and cheated on you. He made promises that he had no intention of keeping. I, on the other hand, have been nothing but straight up from the start. I’m not promising you anything but a night that you will never forget.”

She swallowed hard. He wasn’t kidding. The dark eyes bored into hers, unblinking and serious. Her heart kicked against her ribs. One night of sin with Jack. No commitment. No promises. Just hot, sweaty, headboard-banging sex. The notion sucked every bit of moisture from her mouth and sent blood roaring into her nether parts. Only a fool would turn down an offer like that. She might be a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.

 
“Well?”

“Interesting points, all of them,” she said, stalling for time while she gathered her wits. Sweat trickled between her breasts. The breeze had dissipated and left the atmosphere humid and heavy. The excellent wine intensified the heat.

“Well?” he repeated. “Any objections?”

“Yes, a few,” she replied, still breathless. “First, I don’t want to be one of your sad little groupies.” He said nothing but a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Second…,” she paused to gather her courage and he interrupted.

“May I rebut each point as we go?” he asked politely. She nodded. “Great. Well, you wouldn’t be one of my sad little groupies, as you call them, unless you wanted to be. That’s on them not me. I don’t ask them to make fools out of themselves. They do it all on their own.”

“Maybe, but you treat them like they’re disposable. I have too much self-respect to subject myself to that kind of treatment again.”

 
“If I didn’t respect you, we wouldn’t be here right now. I would be off in pursuit of a sad little groupie. Give me a chance to show you how much I like you.”
 

“Why
do
you like me, Jack? I mean, why me? I’m not your typical target. I just don’t get it.”

He leaned back on his hands, considering. “You mean besides the obvious things like you’re big boobs?” She rolled her eyes and he grinned. “I like the way you call me out whenever I say something like that. Most girls put up with anything I say even when I can tell they don’t agree. I like that and I like that you’ve got your shit together. You don’t need a man. You can take care of yourself. I like the way your green eyes flash when you’re pissed but don’t want to show it.” The timbre of his voice deepened as he trailed a hand up the length of her calf. “And I like the way your breath catches when I touch the back of your knee like this.”

“I do like that,” she whispered. The pressure of those two fingers made her heart pound with desire.
 

“So what else have you got? Might as well get it all out on the table.”
 

 
She sucked in her breath and tried to concentrate as his fingers tickled the sensitive skin behind her knee. A pleasant heat was building beneath her skin, brought about by the gentle pressure of his fingers and the wine. “So let’s say that I do sleep with you. How do I know that I won’t catch some hideous STD? How many girls have you been with anyway?”

“A gentleman never tells,” he admonished. Unfazed by her look of doubt, he continued. “I get tested on a regular basis and I always, always use a condom. I was just tested a few weeks ago. I’m clean as a newborn baby – well, almost – and I haven’t been with anyone since.” Dimples flashed. “Okay? Next issue?”

“Alright. Good answer.” She rushed her words together. “The thing is…I don’t believe in casual sex and I just don’t like it that much. Sex should be between two people in a relationship that…”

 
“…are in love, blah, blah, blah.” He interrupted by raising his hand, a small twig caught between thumb and forefinger like a cigarette. “We’ll come back to that later. Now…let’s go back to that second thing. What was that again?”

“What?” She pretended ignorance and clapped an invisible hand to her forehead.
I can’t believe I said that, that second thing. I shouldn’t have said that
. Especially to Jack who treated sex as a sporting event and who would never let it rest until he had thoroughly inspected, analyzed, and driven it into the ground.
 

“That second thing you said. You don’t like sex? Are you kidding me? Christ!” He seemed thoroughly nonplussed by the confession. “How can you not like sex? Jeez!” He dropped the twig and ran both hands through his unruly hair.

“It’s not that I don’t – don’t like it,” she stammered, hopelessly humiliated once again. “I can do without it, that’s all. Girls aren’t like guys. Guys need it. All I can every really think about is how soon it will be over.”
There…now I’ve done it.
The excellent wine had loosened her tongue and once again she’d said way too much to the beautiful bartender.

Jack stared in disbelief. “Not like sex? I had no idea. I just don’t get it unless…,” he paused, eyes narrowed, his mind working through the murky black depths. “Have you ever had an orgasm?”

“I’m not going to discuss this with you,” she said, indignant and embarrassed beyond belief. He had – stunning perception and alacrity in full force – landed upon a very sensitive subject. She leaped to her feet and ran down to the edge of the lake where the water lapped around smooth multi-colored stones. Jack sprang up and trailed on her heels.

“Wait! Will you just wait a minute?” He grabbed her hand and forced her to turn and face him. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m just curious how a girl like you has never got her rocks off.”

“I didn’t say I never had one,” she retorted. “Just not with a guy.”

“Wow,” Jack said. “Have you had one with a chick?” His tone was so boyishly hopeful that she had to smile. He grinned and took her hand in his. “Wow.”

“I wish you would quit saying that.” She tried to pull her hand back, but he tightened his grip, and pulled her toward him until her breasts brushed his chest. The proximity forced her to tilt her head up to see his face.

“I can help you with that,” he whispered, twisting her hand behind her back, and resting their clasped hands on the curve of her spine, forcing her breasts against his bare chest. His other hand tucked a wayward strand of hair back behind her ear with a whisper of a touch that lit all of her nerve endings on fire at once. “Let me do that for you. I want to do that.”