Talking About Sex.... Vicki Thompson Lewis
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didn’t give me a key. I wouldn’t have asked for something like that, and I’m sure she wouldn’t have given me one either. That would have been way too weird.”
“And this isn’t? You somehow appearing in my apartment without a key?”
“My, uh, dad taught me how to pick locks when I was a little kid.”
“Cute.” She never would have pictured Jess doing something like that. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she noticed a bottle of red wine and two crystal goblets sitting on her coffee table. “Did he also tell you that breaking and entering was illegal?”
“No, but I figured that out. I’m reasonably sure my dad was a thief. Probably still is.”
That tidbit knocked her back some. In high school Jess had claimed his dad was a loner and a drifter, but he’d never offered this particular factoid. She had a feeling he didn’t mention it very often, if at all. It wasn’t something to boast about.
But he’d told her now, as if finally willing to trust her with the news. She fought the warmth of his subtle flattery. She didn’t want to fall in with his plan—and there was obviously a plan. Candlelight and wine sent a definite message, and she was vulnerable to that message, too vulnerable for her own good. “I should call the cops.”
“Don’t.”
“I don’t know why I shouldn’t. You have no right to break into my apartment and light a bunch of candles.”
“That’s true.”
“Besides that, you have solid brass ones, buddy.” And solid muscles to go with them. Even in the soft light from the candles she could tell how perfectly he filled out his knit polo. His biceps stretched the ribbed cuffs of his shirtsleeves in a most satisfactory way. “For all you know, I could have brought a date back here tonight.”
“I didn’t think that was likely.”
“What, you can’t imagine me with a date?” In truth, she didn’t go out much. Lately it had seemed so pointless. She’d begun to wonder if her sexual drive was diminishing now that she could see thirty in the rearview mirror, but Jess had dynamited that particular theory last night.
“I’m sure you have dates, but I—”
“Damn straight. I have so many guys hanging around I was forced to order date-tracker software last week so I can keep them all straight. I could have been out with one of a number of men tonight, and wouldn’t that have been awkward—to come back home with someone and find you sitting here with all your candles lit, so to speak.”
A smile touched his mouth. “I suppose candles are a phallic symbol, too.”
“Those certainly are. Just look at them. They’re penis-size. They’re even flesh-colored!” And the subliminal message had been working on her ever since she’d laid eyes on them. She’d seen those fat tapers in a mall speciality store. They’d looked erotic at the time, and now, thrown into this Jess mess, they seemed blatantly sexual.
“The minute I saw them I knew you’d think that. That’s why I bought them.”
It occurred to her that he’d had to buy more than the candles, which wouldn’t fit in ordinary holders. He’d been forced to add three wrought-iron candelabra to hold the thick tapers. Then there was the wine. She couldn’t tell for sure but the label looked pricey. And those weren’t her goblets either.
“You went to a lot of trouble and expense,” she said.
He didn’t respond. Instead he simply gazed at her with those brown eyes that had the power to melt the steel barriers she was frantically trying to build around her heart.
She took a deep breath. Cheryl had advised her to take control of the sexual dynamics, to get into bad-girl mode, but Cheryl had no idea how potent Jess could be. Katie was afraid that if she let herself surrender to this campaign even slightly, she’d be swallowed by a wave of sensuality that would rob her of all power.
No, she couldn’t allow herself to be tempted by this man. “I’m afraid all that trouble was for nothing, though. I’ll have to ask you to leave, Jess.”
He stood, and for a minute she thought he might actually walk out the door. She would be relieved if he did that. Of course she would. As she’d told Cheryl, he was too hot to handle. She’d get burned.
But instead of leaving, he came around the coffee table until he was only about three feet away. Candlelight played over the strong planes of his face, and his powerful chest heaved. The years had been good to Jess, maybe because he had a job that required him to be active. His body was fit and tanned.
Thirteen years ago she’d only imagined what sex would be like with him. Now she had more experience to feed her active imagination. It didn’t take much effort to picture getting naked with Jess. She grew moist and pliant as she thought about it. The trick was to stop thinking about it. Immediately.
Yet that was easier said than done. She’d never rejected a man as gorgeous as this. She didn’t want to do it now, but it was for her own good. She had to be strong. “I mean it,” she said. “I don’t want to play whatever game you’re playing.”
He gave her another long look. When he spoke, his voice had a husky quality that spoke volumes about his state of mind. “Are you going to make me beg?”
As his words sank in, hot desire slid through her veins. Maybe she’d miscalculated. Maybe her own needs had blinded her to the force of his sex drive and they were more alike in their desires than she’d thought. It was a fascinating theory.
Did she dare test it? Could Cheryl be right, after all, that Katie had the ability to make him grovel? Now that would be sweet.
In the end, the chance to put him at her mercy was too irresistible to pass up. “Yes.” Her heart beat wildly at the prospect. “I do believe I’m going to make you beg.”
4
JESS SWALLOWED A SMILE of triumph, not wanting to push his luck. He didn’t care how or why Katie was letting him stay, just so he got to. Just so he finally put an end to thirteen years of longing and frustration. The thought of making love to her nearly had him moaning out loud, but he swallowed that, too.
“Shall we have some of that wine you brought?” she asked.
“Great idea.” He walked back to the coffee table and picked up the bottle.
Earlier he’d uncorked it and closed it again with a silver stopper that he planned to give her along with the crystal goblets. Maybe it was ostentatious, but he needed her to realize he was no longer that poor kid who’d worked long hours at Home Depot after school to help his mom financially and buy gas and tires for his old Ford.
“While you’re pouring the wine, I’ll change into something more comfortable.”
He almost dropped the bottle. He’d never dreamed she’d be this cooperative. “Uh, sure. That would be terrific.” Wow. This was turning out to be the best move he’d ever made. Breaking and entering had its advantages, after all.
After she left, he poured wine in both goblets and sat on her sofa wondering what more comfortable meant to her. Ads for Victoria’s Secret swam through his fevered brain and he shoved his hand into his pocket to make sure the condoms were still in there.
If he didn’t want to get an erection while he was waiting for her, he’d better concentrate on something neutral, like furniture. Earlier he’d prowled around her apartment and discovered a Southwestern theme throughout, with old pots and Native artifacts scattered everywhere.
Her coffee table and end tables were trimmed with saguaro cactus ribs, and she’d hung several small Navajo rugs on the walls. The turquoise sofa he was sitting on was the single spot of color in a room dominated by earth tones.
He wasn’t particularly surprised. Her parents’