Sweet Nothings: A Karma Café Novella (4 page)

“I’ll turn the, um, the water back on,” she said, her eyes still focused to his towel as if she were hoping he hadn’t tied the knot very well.

Jacob didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

He was too busy wondering what her skin felt like. Was it as soft as it looked? Was it like silk? He wanted to skim his fingers over the pale pink of her cheek, slide them down the slender length of her throat then graze, as light as a whisper, his hand all the way down the delicious length of her body. He wondered if those huge, expressive blue eyes would darken with desire. Or would they widen with excitement. What would it take to make them blur with passion?

Hell.

Jacob grimaced, trying to regain control of his thoughts. He was here to convince the woman to step up and accept her inheritance. Not to lay down and welcome his body.

He needed to get out of here.

But he couldn't move. Between the plush thickness of the towel resisting staying knotted and his hardening erection pushing against the fabric, all it’d take was a step, maybe two, for the heavy towel to hit the floor. What would she do then? Would she run from the room? If the heat zinging between them was any indication, he didn’t think so. Would she strip herself naked in the name of fairness, so he could see if she was as delicious in real life as she was in his imagination?

And what would
he
do if she did?

She was a potential client.

He was here to confirm her identity, then convince her to come back to Boston with him to accept her inheritance. Running his tongue over her entire body before nibbling from front to back, then top to bottom was probably one of those ethical lines he should avoid crossing.

For the first time since he’d vowed to do whatever he could to keep Lynn’s greedy fingers off any more of the White estate, Jacob hoped he’d tracked down the wrong woman.

“Did you want something else?” Bianca asked, making him aware of his long silence. Her words were low and soft, and if she hadn’t been blushing he’d have called them inviting. But the blush, and the sweep of that thick fringe of lashes over her cheek, put a question mark on the offer.

“Just the water,” he reminded her.

Her eyes wide with embarrassment, she spun so fast toward the sink her hair flew around her like a cloak.

Jacob bit back a groan.

His eyes locked on the sweet curve of her butt, deliciously outlined in denim as she bent low to reach under the cabinet.

“There,” she told him as she turned back to face him, offering an equally appealing view of her front.

“I should finish my shower,” he muttered. “And, you know, get dressed.”

“Not on my account, I hope?” Her smile was a little too bright around the edges but the heat in her eyes when they dropped to his towel belied any nerves. When she ran her tongue over her full lower lip, he wanted to whimper. The terry cloth brushed over his hardening dick, adding a whole new level of erotic torture to the moment.

He mentally listed all of the reasons she was off limits, hoping his dick would listen.

She was probably the daughter of his mentor and late friend.

And they hadn’t even been introduced yet.

So there was no way in hell he could justify lusting after her like this.

“I’m Bianca,” she said as if reading his mind. Her tone was husky, like he imagined she’d sound after he’d brought her a few screaming orgasms. “What’s your name?”

Toast.

Ingrained manners had him automatically reaching out, ready to step forward and shake her hand. But if she really was Bianca White, she might recognize his name. His father and hers had been tight. If so, he was sure she’d lose that interested look and walk out the door.

Which was the last thing he wanted.

And not for legal reasons.

So, instead, he shifted behind an oak ladder-back chair. Fitting, he figured, since his hard-on was rivaling that wood. With the back of the chair a flimsy shield between his throbbing dick and the raven-haired temptress, Jacob tried to get a grip on his out-of-control libido.

Think, dammit. Focus.

Bianca moved closer, biting that sexy lip as she did. All will to resist fled. Damn, she was hot. She stopped right at the edge of the seat of the chair, leaning one knee on the fabric cushion and wrapping her hands just inside his on the chair’s top spindle.

She was so close.

Close enough that her scent, flowery and light, wrapped around him, making him want to simply breathe her in.

Close enough that he could see the perfection of her pale alabaster skin, the pouty fullness of her red lips, the pure sapphire blue of her big round eyes.

Close enough to feel her interest, her desire, pulling him in like a tractor beam.To hell with business and doing the right thing. His fingers clenched the chair-back so hard, he was sure he heard the wood flex.

“Excuse me.”

They both started at the intrusion.

No! In a rare flash of fury, Jacob wanted to throw the chair across the room. He'd finally overcome his good sense and was ready to give in to his body's demands, only to be interrupted.

Glowering, he turned toward the door.

“I knocked,” the woman in the doorway said, her eyes dancing with amused light as she took in the scene. She held up a tray filled with something that, as decadently delicious as it smelled, wasn’t nearly as tempting as Bianca.

“Hi Anja,” Bianca’s tone somewhere between grateful and frustrated.

Jacob frowned. The frustration he could understand. His ego—and thankfully just his ego—swelled at the disappointed look on her face. But his ego wasn’t thrilled at the excitement in her voice over the interruption. How could she be both? She should stick with frustrated, dammit. He might not be a player, but he knew when a woman was coming on to him.

And she’d been coming on hard.

Now she was moving away fast.

He glared at the woman in the doorway, his sexual frustration shifting to irritation in a blink.

“I didn’t realize my rent payment didn’t include privacy,” he bit off, shifting a step toward the bedroom. It was one thing to be standing here in just a towel with a intriguing woman who clearly had sexual interest in his body. It was another to be almost naked with two women, both fully clothed and neither looking like they planned to do anything to change that.

“We haven’t been introduced yet. I’m Anja, one of the owners of the Karma Café. Mother asked me to deliver breakfast,” Anja’s tone was serene and friendly, with just a hint of laughter. She lifted a tray as evidence. “She said you’d be expecting it.”

Jacob had some vague recollection of Natalia mentioning that breakfast would be included during his stay. But he’d thought that meant breakfast he went downstairs for, that he'd choose himself. While actually wearing underwear.

“I didn't mean to interrupt, though. I can see the two of you are... busy.” Wicked delight gleamed in Anja’s gypsy dark eyes.

"Why don't you just leave the—"

“Nope, not busy,” Bianca said at the same time, her words so rushed they tumbled over themselves. She reached out to grab Anja’s arm, just below the elbow and above the wide swath of bracelets. “Why don’t we let, um, your renter get dressed and eat his breakfast? I can finish installing the sink later.”

She tossed a quick, apologetic smile toward Jacob, but didn’t meet his eyes. Then she tugged a frowning Anja from the room before Jacob could protest. Or, hell, even blink.

Nonplussed, he stared at the closed door.

His mood, and his towel, sagged.

Chapter Four

“Okay, what’s the deal?” Anja asked, pulling her arm away, then making a show of adjusting the ruffle of her flowing sleeve as she gave Bianca a chiding look. “When I walked in it looked like you were about to lick that towel off that very well-built, very sexy man. The heat almost fried my muffins. Then you ran us both of us out of there so fast you wrinkled my blouse.”

Bianca danced with impatience as she waited for Anja to open the door to her own apartment. She wished the other woman would hurry. Otherwise Bianca might rush across the hall, rip open the door and snag that towel off those sexy hips to see if the promising bulge was real or just a terrycloth illusion.

And make a complete fool of herself.

As soon as opened Anja’s door opened, Bianca hurried inside. Maybe another layer of wood would save her from feeling like a total idiot. What had she been thinking, that she could handle something that sexy?

“Fry your muffins?” she asked, dropping onto Anja’s swing-style couch and shaking her head as if she could toss off the confusing blur of desire.

“I was bringing breakfast when I walked in on your sexy seduction. Remember?”

“Oh, God.” As much out of frustration as to hide her red cheeks, Bianca dropped her head to her hands.

“I’m confused. Was that not a sexy seduction going on back there?” Anja asked.

“Yes. No,” Bianca corrected. Then, lifting her head, she gave the other woman a pathetic look. “I don’t know. Hell, I practically had an orgasm just looking at the guy. I wanted to tug that towel right off his body and drop to my knees to see if he was as tasty as he looked. What's wrong with me?”

"Wrong?” Anja shook her head. “That sounds right to me."

"I don't even know his name."

Anja huffed, looking like she was going to make a smart retort. Then she narrowed her eyes, as if she were seeing something in Bianca that she’d just noticed. Bianca wondered if she got up and stared into a mirror if she’d find whatever it was. Probably not. Anja had a special way of looking at things. "It's not his name that has you worried. What’s really going on?” Anja tilted her head and gave Bianca one of those soul-deep looks. “Is this because of Grace and the others’ worries? You are a beautiful, smart, interesting woman who deserves a great sex life. They shouldn’t intimidate you out of having fun.”

For all of two seconds, Bianca considered agreeing that it was her adopted sisters’ protectiveness that had her so upset. But pretending with Anja was pointless. The woman saw right through lies. Heck, she saw right through truths, too. She really was kinda scary.

“They were just looking out for me,” she finally said. “And they’re right. It’s not like I’m the sexually aggressive type. You were there, you saw for yourself that even when I jump a dozen or so steps ahead in the seduction game, and the guy is already nearly naked when I hit on him. I still couldn’t’ seal the deal.”

Bianca sniffed, then put on a brave face and shrugged. “No biggie. Its not like he seemed very disappointed.”

Anja started to laugh, then noticed the tears burning Bianca's eyes.

“He wasn’t indifferent.”

Since debating that would be rude, and crushing to her confidence, Bianca just shrugged.

Nope. He hadn’t been indifferent.

She'd blown it.

Sure, she'd gone in there pretending she was just playing, trying out being a seductress for once. But now, she realized, it was more. So much more.

She just didn't know what more.

Or what to do about figuring it out. She’d wanted him like crazy, but the extent of her sexual aggressiveness had been, what? One comment, and that was supposed to inspire him to toss aside his towel and beg her to let him worship her body? Instead, he’d hid behind a chair.

Wasn’t she the Sex Goddess
.

“This guy was into you," Anja said, interrupting the thoughts that were dragging Bianca deeper into a confidence-funk. "He was totally turned on. And I’m not just saying that because he was stretching that terry cloth to its limits. All the other signs were there, too.”

“What signs?” Yes, she sounded like a needy schoolgirl begging for reassurance. So what. Desperate times called for desperate measures. And, dammit, she was desperate. Desperate and horny—especially if she hadn’t imagined the impressive stretch that towel had done.

“His eyes were dilated, his fingers tense as he held the chair,” Anja mused, her eyes distant as if she were seeing the scene again. “His aura was spiking red with passion, edged with a cautious blue. He wanted you, but something was worrying him.”