A Word with the Bachelor (7 page)

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“I mean the way you went all strong, silent type on poor Lucy Bishop. She's obviously a supporter and the last time I checked, the goal was to sell books. It's hard to do that when you alienate your fan base.”

“She started it.”

Erin actually laughed. “You acted like a petulant little boy.”

Probably some truth to that. He didn't much care right at this moment. “She said my next book is going to suck.”

He expected a rapid-fire return from the copilot's seat and it was a couple of beats before reality sank in that he wasn't going to get one. He looked over and found her staring at him. “What?”

“I was warned that you would be difficult.”

“Good to know I lived up to advance billing.” That remark might have come from his inner, petulant little boy.

“But,” Erin continued, “no one told me you were a diva.”

Jack wasn't entirely sure about the definition of a diva, but thought it might involve outrageous demands for white-rose-petal-covered sofas and organic water from Bora Bora. That's not what this was about.

“It was the subtext of what she said,” he argued.

“You know they say if you give twelve writers the same idea you'll get twelve completely different stories.”

“What in God's name is your point?” he asked.

“You and I heard the same words and came up with two opposite interpretations. I believe she paid you a compliment, and is genuinely looking forward to reading your next book. You heard her say that you're going to fall on your face.”

Harley jumped on the console between them and started to whine sympathetically. Almost as if the dog sensed Jack's inner turmoil. Erin didn't come right out and say it, but she was probably thinking that he projected his internal conflict by twisting innocent words. Could be some truth to that. And it made him a whiny toad, which was a rung or two lower than a son of a bitch.

“Understood.” He looked at her and the sweetness in her face did not bring out the best in him. It made him want to push back harder. “Next time you decide social networking is just the thing, do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Don't.”

“But, Jack—” She looked down for a moment. “Creativity needs to be fed, watered and cultivated.”

“I'm not a plant.”

“I'm aware. It's a metaphor. You might have heard of them.” She sighed, as if pulling her tattered patience together. “What I'm trying to say is that everyone needs contact with others.”

“There's a reason I prefer being alone.”

“And what is that?”

“People.”

“You don't like people?” she asked.

“Roger that.”

“So you don't trust anyone?” There was something awfully darn close to pity in those green eyes of hers.

“My army buddies. They're like my brothers. Closer. They had my back and I had theirs. I'd have taken a bullet for any one of them and they would have done the same for me.” He met her gaze to make sure she was getting this. “If any one of them needed help, I'd drop everything and be there to do whatever I could for them.”

“And they would do the same for you.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper and it wasn't a question.

“Damn straight.” Harley put a paw on his arm as if he understood all about duty, honor and loyalty. Jack almost smiled. “So, yeah, there are people I trust.”

“But only a select few. No one else. And I'm pretty sure I fall into the no-one-else group.”

“You said it.” Even as the words came out of his mouth he realized she didn't deserve that.

“Okay.” She nodded for a moment. “But here's something to think about, Jack. Trust happens for a lot of reasons. One of them is going into combat situations and finding out who you can count on.” There was a lot less sunshine in her eyes when her gaze met his. “I suppose you could say life is combat. And telling someone only what they want to hear isn't the best way to have their back. If someone isn't afraid to lay the bad stuff on you, it's a pretty good bet that when they tell you something good, you can believe it's the truth.”

Damn it, why did she have to make sense? He just wanted to be ticked off and he wanted to do it alone. She would call it crawling back into his man cave and frankly, hoo yah to that. It had been a bad idea to let her talk him into going to town and it was a bad idea to sit here now and listen to her being rational. And she smelled so good he wanted to bury himself in her.

He opened his door. “Harley. Walk.”

The little guy let out an excited yip and jumped into Jack's lap then out of the car. He raced toward the marina. Without looking back at Erin, Jack followed after his dog.

Brewster Smith was breaking down today's sale display setup just outside the store. There were a few summer things left but the rest was fishing stuff. And it was getting pretty close to quitting time for the older man.

There was a chill in the air that had a lot to do with summer being over, but Jack also felt it inside himself. Probably it had been there for a lot of years, but he hadn't noticed until Erin's warmth showed him the difference.

Brew smiled when the dog bounded up the wooden steps and stopped beside him. He rubbed the animal's out-of-proportion head. “Hello there, Mr. Harley. You're looking fine today.”

“Hey,” Jack greeted him.

The older man gave him an assessing look, not unlike a military inspection searching for any breakdown in discipline. “Afternoon. You are not looking as fine as your dog.”

Everyone was a critic. “Thank you.”

“In fact,” the man went on, clearly not getting that “thank you” meant don't go there, “you look like something's eating at you.”

“Thank you again.”

Brew nodded, indicating he got the message this time. “How are things?”

“What is it with everyone wanting to talk about the damn book?”

“Well, now, I can't speak for everyone. And I can't say I'm not curious about how it's coming along, what with your research assistant giving you a hand. But I sure did like the first one.” Brew rubbed a hand over his beard. “That said, I wasn't askin' about the book so much as that pretty lady who's stayin' there with you.”

“Oh.” Jack was just about ready to admit the pretty lady stayin' with him had a point about him hearing something innocent that his subconscious turned into a negative. His only comment was “Erin is many things.”

“I'd put talker at the top of the list.” Brew laughed. “That little thing could babble the ears off a bull elephant.”

The imagery made Jack laugh. Mostly because it was true. She turned out to be nothing like he'd first thought when she'd turned up here. The small, eager-to-please woman he'd believed he could torment into leaving had turned out to have a steely, stubborn streak. If anything she was the one pushing him around. How else did he explain getting him to go to town? And she spoke her mind whether he liked what she had to say or not.

Mostly he didn't
dis
like it.

“You're right about that, Brew. She's perky.”

“A firecracker, that one.”

Jack wondered if those washed-out blue eyes studying him so closely could see inside, what he was thinking. He sure hoped not.

“So that dinner she made the other night was pretty special,” the old guy said.

“You mean the chicken, and mac and cheese?”

“That's the one. She brought some leftovers down to me for lunch the next day.”

Because sweet and thoughtful was how she rolled.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It was good.”

Brew nodded sagely. “Careful with that one, Jack. You know what they say about the way to a man's heart being through his stomach.”

“I do. And no worries. Erin already told me I don't have a heart.”

For some reason Brewster thought that was hilarious and laughed until Jack was afraid he would choke. He didn't think it was funny at all. And he had a sneaking suspicion that shrewd Brewster Smith was sending his own message. Jack figured his take on her was need-to-know and no one needed to know that she'd gotten his juices flowing, none of the ones that had anything to do with the creative process.

Jack had been between a rock and a hard place before, but this was different. Putting a move on her was pretty damn tempting, but he'd told her the very first time he laid eyes on her that they wouldn't be sleeping together. Besides not looking like a hypocritical ass, it would be dishonorable to compromise an employee. He was a lot of things—whiny toad and son of a bitch immediately came to mind—but a jerk who would put her in that kind of position wasn't one of them.

The burning question, and he did mean burning, was how the hell was he going to keep from being that jerk?

Chapter Seven

E
rin was fed up with Jack's silent treatment.

Oh, there had been grunts and grumbles, a shrug here and there, but none of that counted as actual communication. It had been going on for a couple of days now, since his snit following their visit to town. Afterward he'd practically barricaded himself in his office.

They had meals together but very little conversation. The daily status meetings he'd agreed to had been aborted but that was about to change. Because she was useless this way and she was going to make him talk to her or die trying.

She grabbed her file folders with the bogus research acquired from the ridiculous subject matter he'd assigned to her. One of the topics caught her eye and was particularly ironic considering the way he'd clammed up.

“Erotic talk, my ass,” she mumbled.

It was getting close to dinnertime and no way was she putting up with his stonewalling for even one more meal. She was going to do her job. If he didn't like it, he could fire her and explain to his editor why the book wasn't turned in. Erin walked out the front door onto the porch, then turned right and stomped up the stairs to his office. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on his door. He had never given her permission to enter so, as usual, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Jack was at his desk typing on the computer as if he hadn't heard her. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him from this angle, working. He had a very sexy profile and that was not a comforting thought as she prepared to jump into this confrontation with both feet. But she had to take a stand. She refused to be ignored.

“Hi, Jack.”

His fingers stilled over the keys and he looked at her. “Do you want something?”

So much, she thought. “We haven't had a status meeting for a couple of days. I wanted to see how the book is progressing.”

“You mean the one that's going to be better than my first book?”

“Wow, there's not a lot of forgive-and-forget in you, is there?”

“No.”

She stared at him, hoping he would expand his answer, possibly explain what it was about Lucy's innocent remark that had hit a nerve. But he stared back and said nothing.

With a confidence she wasn't even close to feeling, Erin walked over to his desk and sat down in one of the chairs facing it. “How's the book going?”

“Fine.”

“Great.” That was a lie and she knew it, but she smiled anyway. That deepened the frown on his face. “I'd love to read what you have so far.”

“That's not part of my process.”

She was this close to telling him what he could do with his process. Just in time she stopped herself because she had an epiphany. He was doing his best to goad her into losing her temper. This was him reverting back to his behavior from the beginning, trying to get her to go away.

“It's not going to work, Jack. And I'm a little disappointed in you.”

“Now what did I do?” The words were defiant, the tone bored, but it was all to cover the fact that she'd surprised him.

“I thought we were getting along swimmingly and now you're trying to get me to quit again. And I have to say the surly act isn't very original. You're a creative guy. Surely you can do better than this.”

He swiveled his chair away from the computer monitor and gave her his full attention. “What are you talking about?”

“This disappearing act of yours. We agreed to touch base once a day and you've violated our truce.”

“I saw you at breakfast.”

“That's not what I mean and you know it. We had a routine and for some reason you've gone rogue.”

His lips twitched. “Gone rogue?”

“You're doing things alone. Not playing well with others. Shutting me out.”

“Not true.”

“Oh, please. I dare you to tell me how I'm involved in the work.”

“In case you've forgotten, I leave you a list of research topics every day.”

There was an air of self-righteous superiority because he thought he had her on a technicality. As if what he gave her to do was seriously a job and the material he had her look up was important to what he was supposed to be working on.

“Really, Jack? Medieval weapons. South American coups and the history of orchids? We both know it's a smokescreen, throwing me a bone to keep me out of your hair.”

“That's harsh. Mac Daniels could be a key player in the disruption of a South American political power grab.”

Erin got the feeling he was enjoying his own power grab just a little too much. He was holding all the cards and that wasn't okay with her anymore. In a physical contest he could take her down with both hands tied behind his back. The man had training. He knew three hundred ways to incapacitate an opponent with a Q-tip.

All she had was her wits. Charm and feminine attributes could be weapons, too, but she wasn't sure she had a sufficient amount of either.

“Name one topic you've ever given me to investigate that you actually plan to use in your story.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “What do you have there?”

“These?” She held up several folders. “It's everything that I've worked on since I got here.”

“What's in the top one?”

She'd been around him long enough to know a bluff when she saw it. Jack couldn't remember what he'd had her looking in to. That's how important it was.

Erin opened the file folder. “How to tease, tempt and tantalize your lover with words.”

“That was on the list?”

“Technically the focus of it was how to talk dirty. But I fine-tuned the theme.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “How about the next file?”

“Don't you want to know what I found out about this?” She pointed to the material that had put a hitch in her breathing and shot a look in his direction that dared him to hear her out.

“Sure. What have you got?”

“Okay. Let's start with the language of love.” She felt a stab of satisfaction when the smirk on his face disappeared. “There's talking dirty, which is simply a graphic account of lust, and then there's listening to your lover express pleasure in how attractive, special or sexy you are.”

“I can't see Mac doing either.”

“You haven't heard everything yet.” This was where she got even with him for all this research. “Moving on to voice. The tone you use with your partner can be more arousing than what you say. I found out there are exercises one can do to develop a richer, more pleasing pitch to make your voice sound naturally sexy. In my opinion the most effective ones are for the jaw, tongue and lips.”

“Good to know, Erin. Great job. You are incredibly thorough—”

“I'm not finished.” And speaking of jaws, the muscle in his was tight, as if he was gritting his teeth.
Take that, Mr. Action-Adventure
. “You're going to love this. I need to tell you about sexual communication during a first meeting.” And the first one she'd had with him didn't count. The one where he'd flat out told her to not even think about sleeping together because that wasn't going to happen. “Some of this just might come in handy for Mac.”

The amusement on his face was now missing in action. “He can handle himself just fine.”

“Still, he might meet a gorgeous woman with the figure of a goddess and instead of complimenting a particularly well-endowed body part, it's more effective to express appreciation about a standout quality in a person.”

“So instead of Mac saying to a woman ‘you must work out a lot because your—'” he stopped for a second, let his gaze linger on her chest, then met her gaze “‘—muscles are nicely developed,' he should compliment her persistence?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, Erin, you've made your point. Let's not—”

“I haven't gotten to the best part yet.” She flipped through her notes and something caught her eye. “Let's talk fantasies.”

“Let's not.” His voice wasn't resonant or modulated. It was practically a growl and filled with warning.

“Just hear me out.” In for a penny, in for a pound. She was poking the bear and couldn't seem to stop. He'd shut her out of the work. In her mind she had nothing left to lose. “Imagine a scene where Mac says to Bianca, ‘I want to make love to every inch of your body. I want to discover your most secret fantasies, the part of your soul that you've never shared with anyone else before. Let your erotic imagination go wild—'”

Was it getting hot in here? Or was she heating up because his eyes were almost certainly focused on her mouth?

“Mission accomplished. Research rebellion understood.”

The words were barely a whisper but Erin swore his breath caressed her naked skin. She felt tingles everywhere—there wasn't a place on her body that wasn't touched. Her heart started to pound and she was sure he could hear.

That was the problem with unintended consequences. This was supposed to get to him, but she'd turned herself on.

What was it they said about revenge being a double-edged sword?

Erotic talk was intended for your partner, which technically Jack wasn't. She couldn't swear to it, but his breathing seemed to be more uneven than when she'd started reading from her notes. That was just her own wishful thinking. It would be too humiliating if he saw that she had the hots for him. She needed to get out of here before this bad idea turned into a disaster.

“General rule of thumb, Jack. Don't punish your reader and put all the research into the book.” They both knew he wouldn't use any of this. She leaned over and put her folders on the corner of his desk, then stood to make her escape. “I have to go.”

She made it to the door before Jack reached her and she hadn't even heard him move.

He put a gentle hand on her arm. “Wait—”

Erin could feel him behind her—the heat and danger. His body barely touching hers. He didn't need to do any exercises to make his voice more appealing, at least not for her. The deep sound was soft, sexy and seductive. A single word had her hesitating.

“I need to go.” She turned and caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

Jack's eyes darkened with intensity and he blew out a long breath. “When you do that— God, Erin—”

“What? I'm not—”

He touched his lips to hers and she realized this was the definition of irony. Half her mission was accomplished. He was using his mouth, all right, but not for talking.

One thing was clear—she hadn't gotten over the attraction she'd felt the first time she saw him. This man, this awesomely hot guy, was kissing
her
. Miss Nobody. The touch was soft and sweet, and suddenly getting enough air into her lungs was a challenge—in the best possible way. It was hard to think straight, but one thing she knew for sure—this extremely wonderful, mind-boggling moment could end in a heartbeat so she was going to enjoy the heck out of it while she could.

She pressed her body to his, stood on tiptoe and slid her arms around his neck. He groaned again against her mouth, but she could feel the vibration in his chest, which was pressed to hers. His fingers slid into her hair, cupping the back of her head, and he cradled her in a way that made her heart race.

With his arms wrapped around her he half lifted her and moved a step, backing her against the door. She could feel his muscular thighs, her breasts snuggled to his broad chest and—oh, God—how much he wanted her.
Her!

She brushed her palm over his cheek and jaw, smiling at the way his stubble scraped her hand. “Jack—”

“No—” He braced a forearm on the door and studied her with dark, smoky eyes. His breathing was ragged and she sensed he was just barely holding on to his control. She slid her hand down his chest and to the belt of his jeans, tugging his T-shirt from the waistband.

He put a gentle hand over hers. “That's a dangerous game you're playing.”

“What if I don't care and want to play anyway?”

“If you were smart you'd walk out that door.”

“That was my plan.” She could barely get the words out, what with having so much trouble breathing. “I'm not the one who prevented me from leaving.”

“Yeah. About that—”

She touched a finger to his lips, stopping the words, and stared straight into the raging storm in his eyes. “Don't you dare say it was a mistake. I don't want to be someone's blunder.”

“No. Not you.” He hung his head for a moment, then his gaze blazed into hers. “It's me. I'm not a good risk. This isn't smart—”

“You're telling me the sensible thing is to stop this right now. And frankly that just made up my mind.”

“Good. It would be best—”

“Stop right there.” She jabbed her index finger into his chest. “I don't want to come to my senses. Just once I want to do something without planning it to death. No more making a decision because it looks good on paper. Live life to the fullest everyone says. Grab on with both hands and enjoy it. Without regrets.”

Erin knew with every fiber of her being that if she walked away now she would deeply regret it forever. For a long moment Jack studied her and she felt as if she could reach out and touch the conflict churning through him. Finally he sighed, and she was almost sure he'd surrendered.

Jack took her hand and the lead, heading toward the doorway that led to the bedroom. Stopping by his desk, he opened the bottom drawer and pulled something out of a box. She caught a glimpse of a square packet and realized it was a condom. Thank goodness he'd been thinking because she was still in not-coming-to-her-senses mode, the one where rational thought wasn't allowed.

He tugged her down the hall into the bedroom where she'd spent her first night under his roof. It was dark outside now, but he didn't turn on the light. There was enough coming from the hall. As soon as they were through the doorway, he kissed her with a desperation that matched her own. With his mouth and hands on her, all she could think about was how good this felt.