Better Than Chocolate.... JENNIFER LABRECQUE
view the world through such a dark shade of cynicism,” she said, her tone more amused than mocking.
He shrugged. “I manage.” He was what he was. “What about you, Eve? Have you ever been in love?”
“No.” She didn’t hesitate. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
Unflappable. Composed. She stared at him with those beautiful eyes. “Ah. Are you that delicious garden variety who considers herself one lucky date away from destiny?”
She laughed, a low chuckle that strummed through him. “Perhaps…but not tonight, Jack.”
“Touché.” And that was good news. Wasn’t it?
“What? Aren’t you relieved?”
“Absolutely.” He didn’t buy into that destiny nonsense. But he did believe in the strong attraction sizzling between them. Her emotional distance spurred his desire to hold her close. He held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
She put her hand in his and stood. Energy pulsed between them. He led her to the floor and drew her into his arms. She fit perfectly…at least for the night.
Her subtle scent and warm flesh teased him. He glanced into her eyes, crystal-clear pools alight with humor and intelligence, and a touch of mockery. She was warm, fluid, graceful and totally unreachable, even though he held her in his arms.
His intense reaction to Eve surprised him. What was it about her? She wasn’t overly beautiful, accomplished, or even particularly well dressed. But the fact remained, he wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman in a long time, perhaps ever. There was the element of the forbidden, the unattainable, about her. Perhaps he wanted her for the same reason she wanted to call a stranger Jack. The thought of this self-possessed woman as a conquest…His cynicism didn’t exclude himself and Jack always got what Jack wanted.
The song ended and they returned to the table. During their dance, the waiter had delivered their orders.
“You’re quite a good dancer,” he said. And she was—with a strong partner. Otherwise she would’ve slipped into the lead.
“Thanks.” Eve forked a plump, succulent shrimp. “My mother insisted all of us have ballroom dance classes. Learning to tango at Arthur Murray Dance Studio qualified as teen torture, but it’s paid off. Except I do have a tendency to try and lead….” She smiled and then neatly bit the shrimp in two.
He couldn’t contain an answering smile, charmed by her self-assessment. “I noticed.”
She grimaced. “I’m sure you did. My instructor used to say dancing with me was more work than pleasure.”
His body still held the imprint of her heat, her scent, her soft curves. “Then he obviously never danced with you once you’d grown up.”
She smiled. “I’ve changed a little bit since I was fourteen. What about you? Where’d you learn to dance like that?”
“It was a required course at boarding school. I got top marks in my class.”
He sounded like a desperate adolescent trying to impress the pretty girl who refused to be impressed. He’d witnessed it countless times, but he’d never been in the position himself. Not until now. He didn’t relish the role.
“It shows,” she said.
“If you’re going to do anything, you should do it well. I go for top marks every time.” And she’d do well to remember that.
“Everything?” Husky innuendo underscored the challenge.
“Everything.”
“My older brother once told me that beautiful girls weren’t as good in bed because they felt like it was enough of a treat for the guy to simply be there with them.”
Jack laughed, startled by her candor. He’d drawn the same conclusion on more than one occasion. But he’d be damned if he’d ever had a date voice it. Once again, she wrestled the upper hand from him.
“Are you warning me or is that a general observation?”
“Neither. I’m quizzing you. Is that the way it is with men?” How did she manage to be so blunt and bold, yet remote? As if he amused her, for the moment.
“I don’t know. I’ve never slept with a beautiful man and I don’t intend to start. Not even to satisfy your curiosity.” He delighted in misconstruing her meaning.
“There are far better ways to satisfy my curiosity as to whether breathtakingly handsome men try as hard.”
Jack’s ability to visualize was one of his greatest assets in his job. And right now he could visualize very clearly Eve naked beneath him, her ankles hooked over his shoulders, his hands gripping her thighs, while he proved just how hard and thoroughly he could convince her.
“I’m sure I could satisfy…your curiosity. As I said before, I go for top marks in everything.”
“Interesting. We do seem to have a lot in common. I, too, have a compulsion to be the best. That’s one of the reasons I’m here. To show my competitor that there’s only one spot at the top and it’s mine.”
“Jack? Your rival?”
“Jack.”
“So this is business?”
“Monday it’s business. This weekend is pleasure.”
The way pleasure rolled off her tongue brought out the best of Jack’s visualization skills again, arousing more than his intellect.
“You like being on top?” he asked. Instant image—her astride him. Instant erection.
“Absolutely.”
“And how do you think Jack will take you being on top?” he asked softly.
She shrugged one nearly bare shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll take it like a man.” A slow, wicked smile crooked her mouth. “How would you take it, Jack?”
As much as he hated being predictable, he was a man and her provocative choice of words tightened his entire body. “I’d uphold my end of the deal…until I could reverse positions. What if you don’t come out on top, Eve? What if Jack gets that spot?”
“He won’t.”
Jack recognized bluffing when he saw it. Eve wasn’t. She spoke with absolute conviction, as if she already owned the equipment account.
He’d seriously miscalculated. When he won the vice presidency, Eve wouldn’t be part of his team. Now that he’d actually met her, he knew she’d never work under him. Eve the Avenger was as good as gone.
Which left him free to do what he’d wanted to all evening—kiss her remarkable mouth until her composure shattered to hell and back.
3
JACK WANTED to kiss her. Eve saw it in the intensity of his look. And while she wasn’t sure that she particularly liked him, she did want to kiss him. Badly. Actually, she’d like to have her wicked way with him until they were both singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.” But the telling would be in the kiss. Sometimes reality simply didn’t live up to fantasy’s expectations.
She looked for a conversational opener other than, Would you like to explore how hot things can get between us? “Would you like a prawn?” she asked.
He pushed his plate away with one finger. His eyes fastened on her mouth. “No. I’m not hungry for the prawns,” he said, his voice low and soft.
Anticipation blossomed deep in her belly and pooled between her thighs. She returned the look, letting him see the want that surged through her.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked.
“Yes.”