Risky Business. Jane Sullivan
She gave Jack an appreciative once-over, then stage-whispered to Rachel. “His picture doesn’t do him justice.”
“Picture?” Jack said.
“The one on her credenza. She stares at it all the time. Now I know why.”
Jack’s gaze flicked over to the photograph. Rachel felt her cheeks flush hotly, an anatomical glitch she’d been cursed with since childhood. Like a pair of internal humiliation indicators, her cheeks became ripe tomatoes whenever she was embarrassed. And Jack noticed it. How could he not? She didn’t remember one single part of her body that had escaped his scrutiny six months ago, and nothing was escaping him now.
Absolutely nothing.
Jack eyed the photo for a moment, then looked back at Rachel. When his brows dipped down with a confused expression and he opened his mouth to speak, she knew he was only a few words away from turning her career into toast.
“Jack!” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
She circled her desk, rushed toward him, threw her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. “Play along. Please.”
Then she tried to ease away from him, but to her surprise, he pulled her right back up against him, holding her as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks and was making up for lost time.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “Have you missed me?”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Uh…of course. You know I have.”
A smile eased across his face. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”
Kiss him?
Rachel swallowed hard, knowing she had no choice. She gave him a quick peck on the lips, and his face fell into a disappointed frown.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s been so long. Surely you can do better than that.”
She inched toward him again, but this time, as her lips approached his, he tucked her head into the crook of his elbow, bent her backward, and showed her exactly what kind of kiss he was talking about.
Rachel’s heart leaped wildly as his mouth fell against hers. Her lips had parted in a tiny gasp, and that small opening was all he needed to ease his tongue into her mouth, twining it sensually with hers. At the same time, he slid his free hand beneath her suit coat and around her waist, splaying his fingers against the small of her back. He held her firmly, possessively, demandingly—kissing her in a way that could bring a dead woman back to life.
And Megan was watching the whole thing.
If Rachel had any inclination to pull away, that stopped her cold. After all, Megan thought Jack was her loving husband, back from a long trip. Wouldn’t she want him to kiss her?
Yes. Of course. She had no other choice. She had to let him kiss her.
And kiss her.
And kiss her.
Aeons seemed to pass before he finally pulled her to her feet and eased his lips away from hers. He gave her a suggestive smile, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Megan’s expression of absolute astonishment.
“Wow,” Megan said, her mouth hanging open. “I mean…wow.”
Rachel eased out of Jack’s grip, feeling as if he’d literally taken her breath away. She gave her suit coat a nervous tug, then smoothed it with her hands, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. Tall order with Jack still looking at her as if he was only one moment away from clearing the top of her desk with a sweep of his arm, then hurling her down on top of it and having his way with her.
“Megan,” Rachel said, “I’d like to be alone with Jack for a few minutes. If you’ll excuse us?”
“Well, of course,” Megan said. Then she leaned in and said quietly, “Hey, if you want to lock your door for a little while, I’ll just tell everyone you’re in a meeting.”
“Not that kind of alone!”
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”
Every word he uttered in that gorgeous, hot-as-sin voice made all kinds of provocative images fill Rachel’s mind. She remembered lying in the darkness of that historic San Antonio hotel room, listening to Jack whisper a litany of sex talk that had set her on fire. What he wanted to do to her. What he wanted her to do to him. What they were going to do to each other. All night long. And right now, if she hadn’t been terrified of the massive lie she was getting ready to be caught in, she’d have melted right into the carpet.
“We want to talk,” she told Megan.
“Gotcha,” Megan said. “Have fun…talking.”
She gave them a little wave of her fingertips and a great big smile, then eased out the door. Rachel spun around to face Jack.
“What in the hell are you doing here?”
He folded his arms over his chest, those green eyes sparkling like crazy. “Well, from what I can tell, it appears I’m here to wish you a happy birthday.”
“You have to leave. Now!”
“Are you kidding? I just traveled four thousand miles to be with you on your birthday.”
She closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm. “How did you find me?”
“Sheer accident. I’m here in Denver on business, and who do I see getting into a cab? The woman who walked out on me six months ago without so much as a goodbye.”
No. This couldn’t be happening. No.
“And now, for some reason,” Jack went on, “your receptionist seems to think I’m somebody else. She’s got the Kellerman right.” He raised his eyebrows. “But there’s this little matter of my being your…husband?”
Rachel squeezed her eyes closed. “Please, Jack. Will you just go?”
“No. I don’t think so. Not just yet.”
He looked at the photograph on her credenza again, then strode over to the flower arrangement on her desk. Before she could stop him, he picked up the card. Rachel buried her face in her hands.
“To my darling Rachel,” he read aloud. “Sorry I can’t be with you on your special day. I’m counting the minutes until we can be together again. Your loving husband, Jack.” He turned back to her with a smile of pure delight. “Damn, I’m romantic. Didn’t know I had it in me.”
“Just put it back, will you?”
He returned the card to its place, then turned and leaned against her desk. “Okay. Suppose you tell me what’s going on here.”
“Just leave. That’s all I want you to do.”
“Oh, no. If you’re going to pass me off as your husband, I’ve got a right to know why.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “It was just a harmless little…ruse. That’s all.”
“Ruse?” he said. “Lie, you mean.”
“No! Well, yes. I mean—” She exhaled sharply. “It was for my job, okay?”
“Go on.”
She put her hand to her forehead for a moment, then met his eyes again. “When I applied for it, I found out the big boss, Walter Davidson, prefers his employees to be married. Stability, and all that. So I…well, I guess I gave him what he wanted.”
“A married job candidate.”
Rachel sighed. “Yes.”
“And you obviously got the job.”
“Yes.”
“So now you’re a married woman.”
“As far