Harlequin Blaze 51: Take Me Page 3

  He walked faster.

  Chapter 2

  As promised, Joshua called Jessie on New Year's Day.

  Jessie made sure she wasn't home.

  He called again on the second, the third and the fifth. She'd let the answering machine pick up while she sat in her kitchen listening, his tone getting progressively cooler and more impatient with each call.

  Joshua had left half a dozen imperious messages in the last two weeks. She had no intention of falling over herself to call him back. Obviously he wasn't used to being ignored.

  She knew she was playing a dangerous game. There was a fine balance as she waited for the timing to be right without causing Joshua to lose interest.

  Soon. Very soon, Jessie thought as she drove onto the narrow road leading up to the gatehouse. She'd been startled, no, stunned, when Joshua had admitted he was a married man. His honesty, not only in acknowledging his marriage, but the status of that marriage, had confused her.

  If she hadn't been his wife she would've politely walked away. Her mother had had plenty of married lovers. The ending was always sad and messy.

  She sighed. His honesty had disarmed her and made her feel a little guilty about what she was about to do. But he was still The Glacier. Cold. Hard. Ruthless. He was still her absentee husband. He was still the man who was going to give her her heart's desire. A baby. Born in wedlock.

  It was the second week of the new year and cold for Northern California. The wind cut through her jacket as Jessie got out of the car. It was after three and she'd missed lunch looking for a particular wallpaper sample at the design center in the city. Her stomach growled.

  The little cottage welcomed her with warmth as she quickly closed the front door behind her and headed for the kitchen. She loved the carriage house. It was home. Safe, warm, welcoming, and as permanent a home as she'd ever had. Joshua's lawyer, Felix Montgomery, had taken her under his wing and introduced her to his son Conrad that dizzying day seven years ago.

  Con had offered her not only the use of the gatehouse, but also a job in his architectural company while she went back to school. Conrad and his partner, Archie, had converted the gatehouse cottage into a charming home for her, then later incorporated the studio when she'd gone to work for Conrad full-time as an interior designer.

  They'd helped her transform her life and, in the process, the two men had become her dearest friends and the brothers she'd never had.

  The phone rang. Jessie turned off the machine. "Hello?"

  "Where in the hell have you been?"

  She dragged in a breath. "I believe you have the wrong number," and hung up.

  The phone rang again. Jessie tossed a tea bag in a mug of water and stuck it in the microwave. The phone continued ringing. The microwave dinged. She squeezed out the bag and poured in a little milk. "Hello?"

  "This is extremely time-consuming," Joshua said with a great deal of annoyance.

  "Who is this?"

  There was a pause. "Joshua Falcon."

  "Oh. Sorry. I've been getting a lot of crank calls," Jessie told him sweetly. She sipped her tea and burned her tongue. She sat down at the small round table in a weak ray of sunshine and unhooked the calendar beside the phone.

  "I've been calling you for weeks."

  "Darn. And I kept missing you." She didn't bother trying to sound too sincere. "I've been so busy."

  "So have I," he said coolly. "I just returned from an important business trip, but I made time to call you anyway."

  Jessie grinned. "Where did you go?" Her stomach growled.

  "Ireland."

  "I've always wanted to travel. Tell me about it." She dragged the cord over to the cupboard and scanned her soups.

  Talking to him on the phone was easier, safer, than in person. She couldn't see his eyes. Or his mouth. Or smell his cologne. She wanted a baby from this man. She did not want to fall in love with him.

  Jessie refused to go there. That path was rocky and filled with potholes. Fortunately, she'd outgrown the gigantic crush she'd had on him years ago. She'd seen what love had done to her mother. No, thank you very much. That wasn't for her. Mutual attraction would get the job done. Quick. Painless. Satisfying. No fuss. No muss. It might be cold-blooded, but she'd know who her child's father was. No one would get hurt. Everyone would get what they wanted.

  It was a good plan.

  She prayed she'd get pregnant immediately.

  She held the phone between chin and shoulder as she found a bowl, opened a can of tomato soup and added water and milk to her late lunch.

  Joshua gave her the Reader's Digest travel tour of Ireland while she mumbled "Hmmm" and "Fascinating" at appropriate moments. And it would have been if she wasn't so uptight about seeing him again. At this rate, she'd develop indigestion.

  She was sure as soon as she saw him the panicky feeling she'd been experiencing would pass. Between her "schedule" and his business travel, she'd managed to avoid him since Simon's Christmas party. Unfortunately January was a slow month in the interior design business, and she could've used the distraction of being genuinely busy. She'd have to see him soon, even if the timing wasn't right.

  "All right. Enough about my trip." He sounded exasperated. "When the hell am I going to see you?"

  "How about tomorrow night?" Jessie glanced at the calendar where the next night had been marked with an X. She'd calculated just how long she could keep him dangling. She didn't want to see him one second more than necessary. Her attraction to him was already putting a crimp in her plans. She had to stay focused, no matter what.

  "Tonight," he insisted.

  "I'm busy tonight." She lied cheerfully, getting up to place her empty bowl and spoon in the sink. "I'm free tomorrow night or next Wednesday. Your choice." Next Wednesday was circled in red. And underlined. She closed her eyes and prayed he'd pick door number two.

  "I'll pick you up tomorrow night at seven."

  "I'll meet you at Noble's, near Fisherman's Wharf, at seven-thirty," she said, resigned. There was a long pause. Jessie held her breath. Had she pushed him too far?

  He laughed sardonically. "God, you're ornery. All right Noble's. Seven-thirty." The dial tone buzzed in her ear.

  She collapsed back in her chair, eyes closed. She'd done it. She picked up the calendar and ran her finger tenderly around the dates she'd marked in red and underlined. The nights for conception. All she had to do was hold him off a week, until her next ovulation. The prize was worth any discomfort she might feel, any small niggling twinge of conscience she might have. All she had to do was stick to her plan without deviating and she'd walk away with the grand prize.

  * * * * *

  Jessie was cool, calm and collected when she walked into Noble's restaurant at precisely seven-thirty the next night. She wore a simple royal-purple dress with a jewel neckline and cap sleeves. Sophisticated and sexy enough to hold him off while beckoning him closer.

  Joshua rose to greet her. The hem of her dress suddenly felt way too short, the silk far too thin, clinging to her body in a way it hadn't done at home.

  "Hello, Jessie. You're more gorgeous than the last time I saw you." His pale eyes gleamed in the candlelight as he took her hand, and drew her onto the banquet seat beside him. A sizzle of electricity arced up her arm.

  "The last time you saw me I was covered in dirt." God, but he smelled good. He looked virile and alarmingly masculine. And he was sitting far too close. Jessie tried to scoot up against the window.

  "You were covered in skintight Lycra." His breath fanned her mouth. She struggled to draw in air, mesmerized by his silvery gaze as he whispered huskily. "I've dreamed about peeling you out of it for weeks."

  Jessie paused a beat for her nerves to steady, then reached for the menu. If she handled this right, she could make the next date for the following week when it would count. One dinner for one night in his bed. Two dates. I can do this. I can.

  "The seafood here is fabulous." Her pulse throbbed in her ears. She willed herself t
o relax. She knew the outcome of tonight. He didn't.

  The waiter arrived. "Two specials," Joshua said, neither consulting her nor taking his eyes off her for a second.

  His broad chest, covered in shirt, tie and jacket, was inches away. She had a lustful vision of it quite naked. Would his chest be sleek and smooth, or sprinkled with hair? It was alarming how badly she wanted to touch him to find out. "Perhaps I'd like something else."

  "So would I." Joshua brushed a wisp of hair away from her cheek. His touch was electrifying. "But I'm not going to get it before we eat." She must have looked as blank as she felt. He gave her a wry smile. "I don't give a damn what the specials are, as long as it's served fast."

  Jessie controlled a bubble of hysterical laughter. "We could've gone to McDonald's."

  "This was your choice."

  "I'm starving." God. If they were this hot for each other they'd burn each other to cinders.

  He slid from his seat and held out his hand.

  "Where are we going?" Jessie took his hand automatically.

  "To dance," he said thickly. "I have to hold you."

  He pulled her up, then maneuvered her to the small, empty dance floor and tugged her into his arms.

  It felt good pressed against the length of him like this. Far too good. Jessie tried to put a little space between them. Joshua's arms tightened in a firm, inexorable embrace.

  The solid width of his chest felt like heaven beneath her hand. She looked up at him. Would her baby have Joshua's nose? His pale-blue eyes? His mouth?

  The small band in the corner played something soft and bluesy. Lord, this is dangerous, Jessie thought, as Joshua moved her expertly around the floor. And expertly against him. She should have been shocked by the hard length of his erection pressed against her. Instead her heart leaped, and her skin heated. Her nipples puckered and rubbed against the inside of her bra. She moved a little closer, allowing the slide and sway of their bodies to ease the ache a little. He brought his hand up between their bodies, and clasped her hand against his chest. The backs of his fingers brushed against her nipple making her shudder with longing.

  It was no accident. Of course it wasn't. He kept up the slight friction, until Jessie wanted to scream.

  His hand felt warm through the thin silk at the small of her back as he pulled her more snugly against him. His thumb moved in a maddeningly light caress. Goose bumps spread from her back to her breasts in a slow, sweet rush that heated her skin another few degrees and made her heart pound.

  Oh, boy. Definitely dangerous.

  They were practically making love while vertical. Joshua brushed his mouth across her forehead and Jessie felt dizzy with longing. She struggled to find a topic of conversation to keep herself sensible. "Noble's was the first commercial interior design job I ever did on my own. I'd never done any commercial work until Con convinced Charlie to let me do—"

  She glanced up while she was speaking. Why did he have to look at her like that? She licked her bottom lip, losing her train of thought.

  Joshua's eyes smoldered; he drew her closer. "You did a superb job." He caught her nipple between the backs of two fingers and exerted gentle pressure. Moisture pooled between her thighs and her eyes glazed.

  Her skin felt overly sensitive, almost electrified. Get a grip, Jessie. "How would you know? You haven't even looked." She managed a smile, and covered his eyes with her hand. She was demonstrative by nature and didn't give the impulsive act a moment's thought. But touching his bare skin, no matter what part of his body, was a mistake. A huge mistake.

  "Tell me what you like about it." Her voice sounded strangled. Joshua's hot breath fanned the edge of her palm, his hips moved in a lazy, age-old rhythm that was making her insane, and his tweaking fingers had her libido at fever pitch. Jessie shifted slightly and rested her elbow high on his shoulder, feeling the play of muscles and the tantalizing brush of his hair on her overly sensitized skin as they swayed to the music. When had their feet stopped moving?

  "I like the plaid carpet. And the mahogany paneling, the subtle lighting on the seascapes." He was very observant. The thought gave her a chill. Watch yourself, Jessie. "And the brass lighting and the dance floor." She felt his eyes move beneath her fingers.

  "Lord," he said roughly, nuzzling her temple. "You smell like sin."

  She withdrew her tingling palm and vowed to keep her hands to herself from now on. His lips skimmed her cheek.

  "Would you make those sweet little moans for me in bed, Jessie? Would you whimper?" His teeth teased the shell of her ear. "You'd be hot and so sweet." He paused, breathing as raggedly as she, and when he spoke again his words were a fragmented whisper against her cheek. "Do you lie in bed at night and wonder how you'd move beneath me? How incredible it would feel to have me deep inside you?"

  The picture came to her in vivid Technicolor and her mouth went dry. She gave him a cool look. "Actually… no."

  "Liar." His pale eyes looked as hot as lava. "I can see how much you want me. I can see your heart pounding." He used the tips of two fingers to measure the pulse at her throat. "Right here." He dropped his hand, satisfied as her pulse throbbed even harder.

  "I don't like the way I behave around you, Jessie Adams. It's completely out of character and I don't like it at all." He said it like a caress. Like a curse.

  She smiled, but inside a frightened little voice silently echoed his sentiment. "I thought I made you hot."

  "Oh, you do. Make no mistake about that." A muscle jerked in his jaw. "Hell, right now I wouldn't give a damn if half the press corps sat at the next table. That's how much I want you."

  His face was just inches away; she could see herself reflected in his eyes. Jessie dug her short nails into her palms until she regained her senses.

  "Wow," she said dulcetly. "That much?" She'd observed men play the game of "I want you until I have you" all her life. "Then it's a good thing we're in a public place."

  "Which is why I'm not stripping your clothes off." His brows drew together in a frown. "As a rule, I'm a patient man. Congratulations, you've managed to try that patience to the limit." His fingertips ran along her jaw and left a trail of heat in their wake. His thumb glided over her lower lip.

  "You and I have different priorities, Joshua." She struggled to control her own libido. "Satisfying your expectations is on the very bottom of my list. I happen to have a life of my own and you're only a very small part of it."

  "That's going to change, Jessie. Very soon I'm going to be a major part of it."

  His arrogance and self-confidence were bred to the bone. "Don't be too optimistic, Falcon. This is our first date and I don't like having a man tell me what to do, or when to do it."

  His gaze rested on her mouth before he looked her right in the eye. "Are you telling me we won't become lovers?"

  "I haven't decided one way or the other—yet." She ignored the little thrill of excitement skimming her nerves. She fought the unwelcome, insidious attraction with a reminder it was a physical ailment, like a cold or the flu, and would pass.

  "You'll be the second person to know once I make up my mind." She glanced at the table where the wait staff hovered. "Oh, our dinner's arrived." Her hand slid down his arm and caught his as they returned to the table.

  Joshua sat down and flicked his napkin onto his lap with controlled irritation. "Are you always this stubborn?"

  "Let's say I'm extremely selective. I don't jump into bed at the drop of a hat. And, frankly, the thought of tossing my underwear into your collection is something I have to think about."

  "Will I see you tomorrow?" he bit out, his expression savage. Desire dilated his eyes. Clearly part of him loved the challenge; the rest of him wanted her. Now.

  Please God, next Wednesday was the next and last time she planned to see him. She'd see how Impatience liked waiting another week. She groaned inwardly. At the rate she was going, he might become a vapor trail before tonight was over.

  "Let's see if we manage to complete thi
s evening unscathed first, shall we?"

  Amusement flared in his eyes. Jessie was afraid he knew exactly what she was experiencing. He leaned back in the booth, his expression bland as his hot gaze raked her face. "We'll see just which of us raises the white flag first then, shall we?"

  Jessie relaxed the tense muscles gripping her spine. She didn't even own a white flag. He had no idea just how stubborn and determined she could be.

  Neither of them was getting any sex tonight, she reminded herself. After dinner she would drive herself home. Alone. It made a world of difference to her nerves when she leveled the playing field. The balance of power was in her hands tonight.

  He might wonder.

  But she knew.

  * * * * *

  The sun shone bright as a spring day, but there was still a nip in the air as Joshua strolled beside Jessie at the antique street fair one Sunday afternoon. She wore blue jeans that did marvelous things to her long legs and heart-shaped butt, a short, screaming orange sweater, and a brightly patterned silk scarf. The outfit was so Jessie, as he was finding out. She hadn't worn the bold colors to attract attention, Joshua knew, although several men had turned to look at her. Jessie loved bright colors. Happy colors she'd informed him, eyeing his tan slacks, pale-blue shirt and navy windbreaker with disfavor when he'd met her downtown earlier.

  The streets were crowded and noisy. Not the kind of place he'd ever have chosen to spend a Sunday afternoon. And certainly not where he would have chosen to be with Jessie. He preferred his surroundings slick, modern and new. And he wanted this woman to himself. Preferably in his big, black lacquered bed.

  An unexpected business trip had kept him out of the country and he hadn't seen her in a week. Her face had come to mind at the most inappropriate times. It annoyed the hell out of him.

  Jessie paused beside a table laden with junk. She ran her hands over chipped cups and tarnished silver, all the while chatting comfortably with the vendor, an older woman with improbably red hair and a tired face.