“You sure about that?”
“Dead sure.”
Jack pulled a cell phone from his inner jacket pocket, flipped it open and dialed. “Evening. Jack Reynolds here. I’d like to cancel my seven o’clock reservation.” He raked a smoldering blue gaze over Kylie, setting her body on fire. “We’ll be dining in.”
Oh, boy. Oh, God. No turning back now, not that she wanted to. Kylie’s stomach swirled with nerves and anticipation. If she ate just now, she’d hurl. “I’m not hungry.”
“I am.” His gaze was hot, his grin sinful, and she realized suddenly that he wasn’t talking about food. “I have some wine in the car,” he said.
She licked her glossed lips. “I’d rather be clearheaded for this. I think.” She clutched the condoms in her balled hands. Maybe she could drop them behind her and kick them under the futon sofa without him noticing. Or maybe she should play naughty, take the initiative and tear open a packet—right here, right now.
She stood frozen. “I’ve wanted you, this, for what seems like forever. Now that it’s here…what if it’s not everything I imagined it to be?” She could almost hear Max and gang groan.
“The pressure to perform right now would be crushing if I weren’t so damned attracted to you, Tiger.” Jack shrugged out of that sexy leather coat and closed the distance between them.
She glanced down and noted the evidence of his attraction straining against his jeans. Her heart skipped when he smoothed her new sleek hair from her face, then brushed a soft kiss over her mouth. “I can’t be your first, Kylie, but I’ll try my damnedest to be your most memorable.”
Holy smoke. She closed her eyes and mentally chanted an affirmation.
“I can handle this. I can handle him. I’m adventurous. I’m flexible.”
He kissed her again, but this time he lingered. A slow kiss, a tender kiss. A kiss so achingly perfect, it brought tears to her eyes. His warm palms slid over her shoulders and down her bare arms, inciting goose bumps and pleasure—until his fingers closed around her fists.
“Faye gave them to me,” she said as he claimed and inspected the foiled condoms. “I’m now officially mortified.”
Smiling, Jack tossed them on the end table. “What you are, hon, is beautiful inside and out. That’s what makes you so irresistible.”
Her limbs melted along with her heart. “On second thought, a glass of wine would be nice.”
He studied her for a moment, then nipped her lower lip. “You get the glasses. I’ll get the bottle.”
As soon as he was gone, she skittered to her bedroom and kicked her rejected date-wear under the bed. She spritzed herself and the air with a subtle exotic perfume
(men like exotic)
, smoothed her satin quilt, then skittered back to the living room. She was bent over, turning on her CD player, when she heard the door open and shut.
“Don’t move.”
Her pulse raced as she felt Jack move in behind her, his erection pressing against her rear, his hand caressing the base of her neck, then smoothing down her bare spine.
“I don’t know who scores more points,” he said in a rough voice. “Faye for providing this kick-ass dress, or you for looking so sexy in it.”
“I vote for me.” Kylie pressed Play and sensual strains of Yo-Yo Ma’s cello enhanced the charged air. She straightened and turned in Jack’s arms.
He searched her eyes. “How bad do you want that glass of wine?”
“Not as bad as I want you.”
He dropped his forehead to hers, then pulled her against him, one hand stroking her bare back as they moved in time with the music. Slow. Sensual. “What’s the name of this song?” he asked, nuzzling her ear.
“I’m embarrassed to say.”
“I’m dying to know.”
She swallowed and breathed in his signature scent—a combination of soap and subtle after-shave. Her senses flashed back to one of the times he’d crashed at her childhood home after an all-night study cram with Spenser. She’d run into Jack coming out of their bathroom, freshly showered, dressed only in jeans—no shirt, so shoes. She’d been mortified and mesmerized. He was so handsome, so masculine and smelled so yummy. She’d felt an odd ache in her tummy and private parts. A thirteen-year-old could sure pine hard for an unrequited love. This song summed up how she’d feel about Jack until the day she died.
“Love of My Life,” she finally answered. She expected him to tense, but he only tightened his hold. As they danced in silence, Kylie’s body grew more pliant, her anxiety melting away. She smoothed her hands over Jack’s strong shoulders, grazed her fingers through his short, dark hair. Smitten and seduced, she framed his gorgeous face and poured her heart into a kiss.
Her Yo-Yo Ma mix segued into the musician’s passionate unaccompanied rendition of a Bach classic. Kylie’s limbs turned liquid when Jack took control, deepening the kiss and easing down the zipper at the base of her back. The fabric slid off her shoulders, then pooled to the floor. The feel of his hands roving over her naked flesh nearly sent her over the moon.
“He’s the one,”
her mind whispered. Between the music, her pent-up longing and Jack’s skilled touch, the moment was magic.
“Beautiful,” he murmured as he kissed his way down her body.
She moaned when he suckled her nipples. Sighed as he licked and nipped her belly. Her body trembled when he caressed and squeezed her rear—bare because of her thong.
But then he stopped.
She looked down and saw Jack inspecting the massive bruise on her thigh.
Shoot
. “It’s nothing. Really,” she rasped in a breathless voice. “Go back to what you were doing.”
After a moment, he gently kissed her injury, then ridded her of the lacy thong. She trembled with anticipation. Was he going to take her here? On the floor? On the futon? She didn’t care so long as he took her now. She pitched a fevered glance at the condoms on the end table. But Jack was focused on
her
. He kissed her…down
there
. She froze. That had never worked for her, but she couldn’t breathe, let alone form words.
She felt his tongue flicking, teeth nibbling, fingers probing….
The music swelled and Kylie exploded. “Oh, my God. Oh, my…” Her breath caught when Jack stood and swept her into his arms.
He cranked the music, then carried her into her bedroom. Tears pricked her eyes as he gently laid her on the bed, then not so gently removed his shirt and jeans.
“I’m not broken,” she said in a croaky, emotional voice. Such a stupid thing to say!
“Easy, baby.” He started to remove her shoes.
“No! Leave them. Please.” She felt different in the stilettos. Sexy, not sensible.
“You’re killing me,” he said, rolling on a condom he must’ve had stashed in his jeans. Even
that
was sexy. Then suddenly, he was on top of her, inside her. She gasped then clung, writhing beneath his spectacular naked body as he—oh, my—
fucked her senseless
.
It happened so fast, an intense orgasm that rocked Kylie to her soul. She screamed Jack’s name and a couple of racy new-to-her-lips expletives.
He kissed her hard, drove deep, then shuddered with his own release.
Kylie couldn’t think or see straight. But she could hear the beautiful music, the sound of their heavy breathing. She could feel Jack’s heart pounding against her chest. The happiest moment in her life, yet she burst into tears.
Jack rolled off and pulled her into his arms, smoothed a hand over her hair. “Not all you’d hoped for, huh?” he teased softly.
She smacked his muscled arm, throat clogged with stifled sobs, her body trembling in the aftermath of two different, mind-blowing orgasms. When she caught her breath, she rasped, “More than I ever dreamed.”
J
ACK WAS TOUCHED BY
Kylie’s emotional reaction and stunned by his lack of control. First he’d bailed on the dating process, then he’d rushed making love to her. He’d wanted to take it slow. He’d wanted to make her come a dozen times, a dozen different ways. But her honesty and vulnerability, not to mention her sweet face and beautiful body, had done him in. The backless dress and FMPs had pushed him over the edge. Or maybe it had been her choice of music: “Love of My Life.” Normally, the sentiment would’ve scared the shit out of him. Instead, it touched him in a way he couldn’t define.
He was still trying to sort it out when Kylie pushed up on one elbow. “This is weird.” She trailed her fingers through his chest hair. “You in my bed. Naked.”
“A little.”
“Regrets?”
“No.” He smoothed a hand down her beautiful back, cupped her tight ass and pulled her closer. “You?”
“Only the crying part.” She inched back and wiped away the last of her tears. “I need to explain.”
He thought he knew where this was going, but allowed her to lead the way.
“I don’t always cry after sex. It’s just that this was different. And not because I’ve been crushing on you since I was twelve.”
“You mean fourteen.”
She blushed. “Right. Anyway, without going into detail, because generally men don’t like to hear about past boyfriends, right?”
“Well—”
“The thing is, I thought I was wired wrong. I couldn’t seem to…no matter what the guy did, I couldn’t…” She blew out a breath. “I thought I was frigid. At least that’s what Red and Jerry said. And I assume Bobby—”
“Red Skyler?” Jack remembered him from high school. “Christ, honey, he was your first?”
She gave his shoulder a playful smack. “Someone had to be.”
“Red’s an idiot.”
“Yes, well—”
“As for those other two…” Damn, had there been only three?
“Would you please let me finish?”
“Sorry.”
“Where was I? Oh, right. My inability to have an orgasm without the aid of a shower massage or my own hand. So when you…when I…”
“Shower massage, huh?”
“Jack.”
“Sorry.” He smiled, adoring the kitten and tiger rolled into one. “Kylie, it’s not always the woman’s fault. Some men just don’t know how to push the right buttons. Other times, it’s about chemistry. Sometimes a man and woman click. Sometimes they don’t. It’s a combination of factors. Emotional, physical.”
“We click.”
“We click.” He interlaced his fingers with hers, then noticed, for the first time, a stuffed animal perched at the edge of her pillow. A giraffe wearing an
Into the Wild
T-shirt. A gift, no doubt from her brother, his best friend. Jack reached over and turned the animal away—prying plastic eyes to the wall. “You know, Spenser’s going to kick my ass when he hears about this.”
She actually looked worried. “Does he have to know?”
“Are you telling me I’m a one-night stand?”
“Are you saying you’d like to see me again?”
Jack held her gaze and stroked a thumb over her knuckles. He liked that she was comfortable with her body. He’d been with women who’d immediately slid under the covers or pulled on their underwear or a T-shirt after sex. Not Kylie. And the town thought she was frigid. Hell, up until tonight she’d thought she was
wired wrong
. What she was, Jack thought, was complex. “What I want and what’s best for you aren’t the same.”
She bristled. “Who are you to say what’s best for me?”
“Point taken, but—”
“Do you like me?”
“Very much.”
“Did you enjoy the sex?”
He smiled.
“Do you want to see me again?”
Oh, yeah. She made him feel good, grounded, happy. She was more intoxicating than a bottle of whiskey. “This could get messy, Tiger.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
His lip twitched. “That’s Spenser talking.”
She coupled an innocent shrug with a not-so-innocent smile. “Speaking of Spenser,” she said after a glance at her alarm clock, “
Into the Wild
starts in ten minutes.” She gestured to the thirteen-inch television sitting on the opposite nightstand. “Did you want to watch? I guarantee every one else in Eden is tuning in.”
What he wanted to watch was Kylie squirming in ecstasy. He skimmed his fingers over her collarbone, the swell of her breast. “Do you really want your brother in the bedroom with us?”
She gasped when he pinched her nipple. “Um. No.”
“Tell me what you were dreaming about.”
She blinked.
“In the jail cell. When I woke you.”
“Oh. It’s sort of embarrassing.”
“Humor me.”
“It’s kind of kinky.”
Jack twitched back to life. “All the better.”
Her mouth curved into a shy smile. “It involved you and me and, well, handcuffs.”
He slid his hand between her legs, tested for wetness. “Who was the dominant one?”
She wiggled against his probing fingers, moaned. “You.”
Hard as hell, Jack trapped her wrists, hauled her arms over her head and rolled on top in one fluid move. “Say no more.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
“W
HAT THE FUCK ARE YOU
babbling about, Sal?” Carmine peered up at his doctor through squinted, blurry eyes.
Not one to be intimidated, Dr. Salvatore Aversi leaned closer. “Your cholesterol is through the roof. What the hell have you been eating?”
What the fuck did he think? The normal stuff. Carmine tried to adjust his vision. His limbs felt heavy, his mouth dry. “Where am I?”
“The hospital.” Aversi straightened. “You had a heart attack, Carmine.”
At first the words didn’t register. He’d been in and out of the emergency room three times over the past two weeks. Panic attacks, they’d said. Brought on by stress, Aversi verified. To which Dr. Bennett had added, guilty conscience.
But then he noted the IV sticking in his arm. The monitor to his right blipping with his fucking pulse.
A heart attack.
Instead of scared, he felt vindicated. “Told you I was dying.”
“You’re not dead yet,” Aversi said, “but this is a warning.” He folded his arms over his barreled chest. “We were able to nip this one through reperfusion.”
“More medical mumbo-jumbo,” Carmine complained.
“Reperfusion is the process of opening the blocked artery and restoring blood flow to the heart muscle.”
“So I’m fixed for good?”
“Fixed for now. You’ll have to go on medication, alter your diet, exercise.”
“Fine.” Not that he thought it would do any good. Death was knockin’ at his door.
“You gotta make things right before it’s too late.”
“When can I spring this joint? I’ve got a flight to catch.”
“You missed your flight,” said Aversi. “And I’m restricting air travel for at least two weeks.”
“Are you fucking
oobatz?
” Carmine struggled to sit up.
Aversi pressed him back against the bed. “Calm down. Stress only—”
“Don’t lecture me about stress. This trip is about alleviating goddamned stress.”
“You’ll have to find another way—”
“Where’s the phone? I need to call Buddah.”
“Buddah and Turk are waiting in the hall. I had to sedate the young woman.”
Dixie
.
Carmine remembered now. He’d put his wife and kids on a plane to Florida, promising to join them at Disney at week’s end. Then he’d met up with Dixie two terminals down. He’d given last-minute instructions to his nephew and consigliere, cautioning them to handle business as usual without any mention of Carmine’s real reason for traveling.
“I’m in Eden because of
Bada-Bling!
That’s it, that’s all. Capiche?
”
Meanwhile, he’d obsessed on what he’d done to his brother seven years earlier and what he had to do now. He’d clutched his chest.
Heart attack.
“Send them in.”
Knowing it was futile to argue, Aversi spun off.
Carmine collected his sluggish thoughts, massaged his tight chest. He focused intently on the worried faces of his two most trusted men as they eased into the hospital room. Time was of the essence. “You gotta make this right.”