Over the Edge. Jeanie London
arched a tawny brow and those warm eyes regarded her steadily. “You don’t expect me to be much of a challenge.”
“Why should you be? We’re attracted to each other. We have chemistry. Unlike the last time we met, we’re both of consenting ages and uninvolved. Do you have something against having fun? I think we’ll be good together.”
“You know for a fact I’m uninvolved?”
He was still trying to gauge her, and she saw no reason to withhold what he wanted. He’d been equally forthcoming. “It’s standard procedure for me to research potential clients.”
“Do you usually find out about their personal lives?”
“Not usually. I wanted to know about you. I was surprised when you contacted me. I wanted to figure out if you knew I was the woman inside the warehouse that night.”
“The thief inside the warehouse, you mean.”
She conceded with a nod. “The thief.”
Mallory recognized his pleasure in the way he schooled his expression to conceal it, in the way he steeled those wide shoulders as if defending himself from the effect she had on him. He liked that she didn’t shy from the truth, and that she’d made the effort to learn about him, whether he admitted it aloud or not.
“Do you know what I found out about you, Jake?” When he didn’t reply, she continued. “I found out that you’re on the fast track to a heart attack.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
She’d also learned that he’d dated quite a number of very beautiful and eligible women, but none of his relationships ever lasted long. “I want to know if all work and no play makes Jake a dull boy.”
Jake frowned and Mallory would have bet the top-end fee she’d quoted him that he’d heard this accusation before.
And hadn’t liked it one bit.
She pressed her advantage. “I also found out you vote in every election, even the primaries, and volunteer at the polls. You always buy from the neighborhood kids to support their school fund-raisers, and TSS sponsors an impressive roster of Little League teams. You’re a perfectly upstanding moral citizen.”
Self-righteous was more like it, as Mallory had learned firsthand ten years ago, but she kept that thought to herself. She didn’t want even to hint that she might hold a grudge and interject that sort of baggage into their relationship.
“Climbing into the shower with a woman of my moral fiber will be a whole new experience for you. An adventure.”
To her surprise his frown faded and he laughed, a sound of such genuine amusement that she frowned. “Why do you need me to prove myself? Is it because you’re trying to convince yourself I’m worthy?”
He squeezed her nipple again. Her sex clenched in response and she trembled.
“Why does it bother you that you want me, Mallory?”
There was no denying his assertion. Her breasts had grown heavy and tight. Her nipples speared toward his hand, begging for attention. Her knees were so weak she’d be swaying like a drunk if not for his hand on her, a point of contact every nerve in her body seemed wired to.
But how could he know about her conflict? Did he sense it? Or was she not nearly so composed as she’d hoped to be?
“I kissed you, remember?” She sounded defensive but hadn’t meant to, which argued strongly that she was revealing a good bit more than she’d intended. This man was blowing all her intentions straight to hell. Not good.
“I’ve been remembering your kiss for ten years.”
His admission was a whole lot more than a taunting declaration. There was substance to those words, an emotional context that seemed to come easily to him, but made her question exactly what he meant.
When had he remembered? In the light of day, when he could feel smug for catching a thief? Or at night in the dark, where they’d first encountered each other and kissed? Or did he think about her at any odd hour, as she often thought about him?
Stepping back, Mallory removed herself from his line of fire, her breast sliding from his grasp. Uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts were taking, she needed to figure out why she was getting contemplative. She needed to regroup.
Leaning into the spray, she shut off the water and considered how to refocus and regain control of this seduction. She didn’t want to be distracted by her conflicting feelings for him right now. She wanted to savor the sensations he coaxed from her body, wanted to carry out her sexy revenge and work this man out of her system once and for all.
But the thought had no sooner crossed her mind than he grabbed her, his big powerful arms lashing around her as he dragged her out of the shower before she had a chance to react.
Suddenly he swung her up into his arms, anchoring her against his chest, heedless of the water sluicing all over him.
“I’ll take you up on your offer.”
Mallory didn’t have a chance to respond before they were in motion. She slipped her arms around his neck to steady herself as he maneuvered her out of the bathroom.
The man knew exactly where he was heading. Without another word he strode across her suite, deposited her in a wet bundle in the middle of her bed. But he didn’t join her. He stood there, staring down at her with those serious eyes.
“Got condoms?” he asked.
Mallory rolled to the opposite side of the bed, not caring that her hair dripped all over the silk comforter. She pulled open the night table drawer to reveal the variety of condoms she’d stored there with the specific intention of inviting him to visit. Not that she’d admit that aloud. Let him think she needed to keep a bulk supply handy, which seemed particularly significant since he apparently didn’t have one on him.
“A buffet of protection.” She’d heard the line in a movie once and it seemed to satisfy him. He nodded and shrugged off his jacket with a casual roll of those broad shoulders.
Grabbing a few of the foil packets, she tossed them onto her pillows before scooting back down on the bed. His gaze never left her, and Mallory found herself feeling very naked, a physical sensation that made every inch of her bare skin tingle in the air, made each drip from her wet hair glide down her back in slow motion.
“Let me help.” She preferred participation to playing the spectator.
Some flicker in his gaze made her guess that her request pleased him. He took a step toward the bed, occupying himself with the buttons on his cuffs, while she tackled his tie.
She rose to her knees, and they were suddenly so close she could feel the heat radiating from his skin, even through his shirt. A hint of some sexy aftershave mingled with the scent that was all him—masculine, scrumptious male—an ambrosia that penetrated her senses and added to the experience of this man.
Even kneeling on the bed, the top of her head only reached his chin and she had to tip her head back to look into his face. He had a striking face, all strong planes and angles, a face saved from true ruggedness by the sculpted lines of his mouth and those soulful brown eyes.
His body, however, wasn’t spared the same fate. After his shirt and tie had been relegated to a heap on the floor, Mallory was treated to the sight of that chest in all its glory as he dragged the undershirt over his head, a breathtaking display of shifting muscle and masculine brawn.
There was nothing small about this man. Not his broad, broad shoulders. Not his powerful arms. Not even his hands, which were long and square-fingered and strong.
He was rugged in a way that was all grace, as if all his coarse edges had been buffed away. Or maybe it was simply that his golden skin and hair made him seem that way.
But something about the sight of his