Australia: In Bed with the Boss. Emma Darcy
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wide blue yonder. She smiled over her use of Jake’s company name. It did have a great ring to it, promising an adventure that obliterated the greyness of ordinary day-to-day life.
As she followed the removalist’s van across the Sydney Harbour Bridge, her spirits were buoyed by the sense of going somewhere new and exciting, and when she arrived at Balmoral, it was every bit as lovely as she remembered it. So was the apartment.
She did, however, have an odd sense of de´jà vu on looking into the master bedroom. The new carpet was turquoise, almost the exact shade as used in the offices at Milsons Point. Then she realised the paintwork was similar, too. It felt uncanny for a moment, almost as if Jake had left the imprint of his personality here. But the colours were easy to live with and an attractive combination. Anyone could have chosen them.
Having already planned where to place her furniture, Amy was able to direct the removalist men efficiently. They came and went in very short time. She spent the rest of the day, unpacking suitcases and boxes, exulting over how much space she had in cupboards and arranging everything to please herself.
When she was finally done, fatigue set in, draining her of the excitement that had kept her fired with energy. She was here, old shackles cut, bridge crossed, ready to write a new page in her life, yet suddenly it didn’t mean as much as she wanted it to. There was no one to show it to, no one to share it with, and the black beast of loneliness grabbed her again.
She wandered around, still too wired up to relax. Watching television didn’t appeal. She plumped up the cushions on her cane lounge suite, eyed its grouping with the small matching dining setting, and knew she’d only be fiddling if she changed it. The view should have soothed her but it didn’t. Somehow it imbued her with the sense of being in an ivory tower, separated from the rest of the human race.
The ringing of her doorbell made Amy almost jump out of her skin. A neighbour? she wondered. Even a stranger was a welcome face right now. In her eagerness to make an acquaintance, she forgot to take precautions, opening the door wide and planting a smile on her face.
Jake Carter smiled back at her.
Jake, exuding his charismatic sexiness, looking fresh and yummy and sun-kissed in an orange T-shirt and white shorts, lots of tanned flesh and muscle gleaming at her, taunting her with its offering of powerful masculinity, accessible masculinity, his wicked, yellow wolf’s eyes eating up her dishevelled state and his smile saying he liked it and wouldn’t mind more.
Amy’s impulses shot from wanting to hug him for coming, to a far wilder cocktail of desires running rampant. Or was it need clawing through her? It was madness, anyway. She felt virtually naked in front of him, clothed only in skimpy blue shorts and a midriff top that she usually wore to her aerobics class. Quivers were attacking her stomach and her breasts were tightening up. Indeed, she felt her whole body responding to the magnetic attraction of his.
It was scary.
Alarming.
And the awful part was she sensed he knew it and wasn’t the least bit alarmed by it. He was positively revelling in it. And he’d come here at this hour, when she was so rawly vulnerable, having burnt all her bridges, making himself available to her, seeking entry…Jake, the rake.
The moment those words slid into her mind, sanity bolted back into it, repressing the urges that had been scrambling common sense. In sheer, stark defence, words popped out of her mouth, words she would have given anything to take back once they were said, but they hung there between them, echoing and echoing in her ears.
“I’m not going to bed with you.”
‘ACTUALLY, I was thinking about feeding other appetites,” Jake drawled, holding up a plastic carrier bag that held takeaway containers and a paper bag bulging with bottles of wine.
Amy flushed scarlet. She knew it had to be scarlet because her whole body felt as though it was going up in flames. Even her midriff.
“First things first,” Jake burbled on. “Moving is a hot, thirsty business and you’ve probably been run ragged today, too tired by now to think of bothering with a proper dinner, even if you did get provisions in.”
Which she hadn’t, except for absolute basics.
“And since you insisted on doing all this on your own, I thought you might welcome company at this point. Winding down at the end of the day, putting your feet up, enjoying some tasty food and a glass of wine…”
He was doing it to her again, pouring out a reasonable line of logic she couldn’t argue with. Except he was here at the door of her home. And it wasn’t business hours. And he certainly wasn’t dressed for business. This was personal.
With Jake Carter, personal with a woman meant…
His eyes twinkled their devilish mischief. “But if you want to change your mind about going to bed with me later on in the evening…”
“There! I knew it!” she shot at him triumphantly, having worked her way out of the hot fluster.
“Whatever you decide is okay by me, Amy,” he blithely assured her. “I wouldn’t dream of going where I wasn’t wanted.”
“I didn’t invite you here, Jake,” she swiftly pointed out.
“Telepathy,” he declared. “It’s been coming at me in waves all day. Couldn’t ignore it.”
“I haven’t thought of you once!”
“Subconscious at work. No one here to share things with. Low point coming up.”
Suspicion glared back at him. “Sounds more like psychology to me.” Get the girl when she’s down!
“Well, you could be right about that,” he grandly conceded. “I guess I was compelled by this sense of responsibility towards you.”
“What responsibility?”
“Well, I said…Jake, my boy, you more or less pushed Amy into that apartment. There she is, without her familiars, and the least you can do is turn up and make sure she’s okay.”
“I’m okay,” she insisted.
His mouth moved into its familiar quirk. His womantrap eyes glowed golden with charming appeal. “I brought dinner with me.”
No one, Amy reflected, knew the art of temptation better than Jake Carter. She could smell the distinct aroma of hot Chinese mixtures. Her stomach had unknotted enough to recognise it was empty. More to the point, sparring with Jake had banished the black beast of loneliness. If she sent him away…
“Dinner does sound good,” she admitted.
“I hate eating alone,” Jake chimed in, pressing precisely the button that had Amy wavering.
“I wouldn’t mind sharing dinner with you,” she said with arch emphasis.
“Sharing is always better.” He cocked an eyebrow in hopeful appeal. “Can I come in now? I promise I won’t even ask you to show me the bedroom.”
No, he’d just sweep her off there, Amy thought, and the awful part was, the idea had a strong attraction. But he didn’t know that…couldn’t know it…and she was making the rules here.
“Be my guest,” she said, standing back to wave him in. “You know where the kitchen is,” she urged, not wanting him to linger beside her.
He breezed past, never one to push his luck when the writing was on the wall. As Amy shut the door after him, it occurred to her she might be driving the loneliness beast out, but she’d let the wolf in, a wolf who’d huffed and puffed very effectively, blowing her door down, so to speak.
On the other hand, he wasn’t about to eat her for dinner. He’d brought Chinese takeaway. She could manage this situation.