Jaci Burton (15 page)

She paused, then nodded. “Fair enough. I do need to clear my head a little.”

He grabbed a bottle of water on the way out the back door.

The gardens were nice, with a path fringed by overhanging
trees and bushes lining the sides. There was a waterfall at the end of the path, lit up by twinkling lights above. Romantic, he supposed, but what he liked about it was the privacy. And even better, no one was out here, so he tucked her arm in his and they took a leisurely stroll. A breeze had kicked up, obliterating the hellish heat that had blanketed the city during the day. They could at least breathe without the humidity suffocating them.

She wasn’t talking, so he let her simmer in silence for a few minutes while they walked the path.

“I don’t need you to handle me.”

He paused, turned to her. “Isn’t that your job?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m taking a beautiful woman who’s upset for a walk. You’re the one who handles people.”

She rubbed her temple. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have pried into your personal life. Not my business.”

She looked away to stare at a rosebush. “It’s my fault. I never talk about it.”

“Maybe you should.”

When she turned to him, he saw sadness in her eyes and wished he could turn back the clock, erase the time when he’d pried about her past.

“It’s best if I don’t.”

He didn’t agree. Things held inside festered. “Look, I’m like the worst person in the world to give advice since you obviously know I have character issues, but that shit boils inside you. Eventually it’ll find its way out.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “There’s nothing wrong with your character, Cole. Nothing that I’ve seen of your behavior indicates you’re anything but a fine, honorable man. Remember, it’s all about image.”

He liked what she’d said about him. It struck something deep
inside him that was rarely touched. He also liked her touching him, didn’t want to do anything to change it.

But he wasn’t going to take advantage of her when she was vulnerable. That would make him the asshole the media portrayed him to be. “Well, my image needs work. That’s why I have you.”

He covered her hand with his and continued walking down the path.

“You confuse me,” she said.

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“How’s that?”

They stopped at the end of the path where the water fountain and lights met. Benches surrounded the fountain, so he sat her down, opened the bottle of water, and handed it to her. She took a couple sips, then recapped the bottle and handed it to him.

“You’re angry and tense half the time, and the other times just so damn sweet. I don’t know what to make of you.”

“I’m just a regular guy, Savannah. Not perfect, but not the big bad ogre the media makes me out to be.” He shrugged. “I have flaws. Maybe mine go under the microscope more than the average guy.”

She shook her head, then raised her hand and swept it along the side of his face. He actually found himself holding his breath, and he never did that. Not for any woman. But he did for Savannah, because her hand was like silk across the roughness of his face and he wanted to lean into that buttery softness so she’d continue to touch him.

“No, you are most definitely not just a regular guy, Cole.”

He shouldn’t do this. In fact, he’d just made a mental promise he wouldn’t. But he couldn’t help himself. He laid an arm around Savannah’s shoulders and tugged her against him. She went willingly and her head tilted back.

This time, she knew what was coming. Her lips parted, and he took the kiss.

He’d meant to just brush his lips across hers, something brief, and then he’d let her go. He wanted to give her comfort, a little reassurance. But that’s not what this was about, because a hunger took over, especially when she touched him.

Heat burned through him, and when she leaned into him, the inferno burst. He groaned and hauled her onto his lap, deepening the kiss, letting his hands roam over her back and down her sides.

She felt good. He wanted to feel more of her, wanted to taste more than her sweet, sassy mouth. His tongue dove inside and tangled with hers, and she whimpered.

He swept his hand across her rib cage. As he listened to the sounds of approval she made, he palmed her breast. She arched against him and his cock, already hard and straining against his pants, jerked.

He slipped his fingers inside the opening to her dress, inside her bra and found her nipple. He brushed his thumb over the taut bud and Savannah whimpered, sucking against his tongue.

Jesus. She made his balls throb. He could take her right here in the garden, undo his pants, pull out his cock, and pull her astride him. She could ride him until they both came. He needed her so badly he was shaking. Her lips licked across his, her tongue taking his in a frenzy of need and desire.

She wanted this as much as he did. He felt her desperation.

But the breeze whipped her hair across his face, reminding him where they were.

Outside. In the garden at his cousin’s wedding. Where anyone could come out. And as hot and oh-hell-yeah ready as he was to slide inside her, he wouldn’t do that to her out here in public.

He pulled his hand away and righted her dress, leaving his hand on her rib cage to feel the hard thump of her heartbeat. It felt good to know she was in this as fiercely as he was, that it wasn’t one-sided.

Savannah drew her lips from his. Her eyes were glazed with passion, her lips swollen. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, her tongue flicking over them. He saw the shock on her face as the cold slap of reality hit her, too.

Goddammit, but he wanted to lay her out, undress her, and put his mouth on every part of her until she came apart for him. The desire was written all over her face. If only they’d been in the right place, he could have taken his time with her, undressed her piece by piece and discovered all her secrets.

But he damn well wasn’t going to do it here. He needed hours with her. All night.

“I know, we got carried away. Let’s go to my place.”

He felt her shudder. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this. I keep losing control with you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He swept his hand over her back. “There’s nothing wrong with you. We both want this.”

She slid off his lap and stood, adjusted her dress with shaky hands. “I don’t. I mean I do. God, Cole. I’m not a tease. You have to know that. But my job means everything to me. It’s the only thing I have and I won’t sacrifice it.”

He saw the regret in her eyes before she grabbed her bag from the bench and turned away from him, walking down the path back toward the reception hall.

Cole stood and watched her walk away. His cock was still hard and throbbing. He’d need a few more minutes before he went inside.

He knew better than to pressure a woman who said no. But there was more than just her job standing in their way.

He didn’t know what it was, but he intended to find out.

NINE

SAVANNAH HAD ALMOST CHANGED HER MIND ABOUT
going to Cole’s parents’ for dinner.

But she always kept her promises, and since she’d been invited, she was going to go. It might be a little uncomfortable considering what had happened between her and Cole the night of Gavin and Liz’s wedding, but she was a professional. She could handle it.

She’d thought long and hard about that night. Okay, she’d thought of nothing but that night since it happened, since it burned in her nonstop. Her body still throbbed from Cole’s kisses, from his touch on her body.

Damn man. And damn her inability to stop kissing him.

It wasn’t going to happen again. She had a career trajectory and it didn’t include screwing up her job by having sex with one of her clients.

Good god she could ruin her career if she was caught.

No more. She was pushing hot Cole out of her head and only client Cole was going to remain there.

She brought a plant over to Cole’s parents’ house for Sunday dinner. A bottle of wine was so provincial.

Cole’s mother seemed pleased. She beamed with delight and thanked Savannah profusely.

Cara was beautiful, and Savannah guessed her to be in her mid-fifties. She had long, thick, very dark hair that she pulled into a ponytail, the most expressive brown eyes, and she was always smiling.

“Come with me into the kitchen.” Cara led her through the hallway.

The house was modern and beautiful, with marble flooring in the entry, wood throughout the expansive house, and dark tile in the kitchen. There was a definite Italian influence in the décor. The kitchen was filled with stainless steel appliances, a dark granite countertop, and a center island with a sink and a seating area.

“I love your home, Cara.”

“Thank you. So do I. We used to live in a tiny three-bedroom in South City that Jack and I had bought when we first got married. Over the years it had gotten run-down and in need of repair, but with Jack’s income as a welder and mine as an office assistant, there was only so much duct tape we could put on the old house to keep it together. We put all our money into the kids and making sure they got college educations. Of course it helped that Cole got the football scholarship.”

“I’m sure it did.”

“When Cole got his first contract, he bought us this house. It was my dream house. I’m Italian, so I decorated it with my love of my heritage.”

“I see the Italian influences. It’s lovely.”

Cara gave her a smile. “Thank you. I love this place so much, and there’s plenty of room for the kids—though they don’t live here anymore—and any grandchildren they might bless us with someday. Sadly, neither of them seem in any hurry to settle down.”

“Busy with their careers, I imagine.”

“True. Though Cole will be thirty this year. Alicia is just getting started on her career. I’m just anxious to hold some babies and fearful both of them will focus on their careers instead of love, marriage, and those grandchildren I want to have.”

Savannah laughed. “I’m sure it’ll happen eventually.”

Cara went to a pot on the stove, stirred, then replaced the lid. “Maybe. Maybe not. Honestly, it’s up to the two of them. I try not to interfere. Much,” she said with a wry smile. “So tell me about you, Savannah. I love your Southern accent. Where are you from?”

Savannah took a seat on one of the cushioned bar stools at the island. “Georgia.”

“Where in Georgia?”

“Macon.”

“Do you have a big family? Any brothers or sisters?”

“No, it’s just me.”

“And your family still lives there?”

“Yes, they do.” As far as she knew. She hated making up stories about her family, but the truth wasn’t something she ever shared.

At least not typically. She’d shared too much with Cole and that had been a disaster. It was always better to make up lies than to tell the truth. After all, image was everything, and often the truth was painful.

“It must be hard to be away from home.”

“Not too hard. I travel a lot so I’m used to being away from home.”

“Oh. So you don’t live near your family anymore?”

“No. I haven’t for years.”

“That must be difficult. Do you miss them?”

She paused. “Yes. Of course.”

Cara got out a cutting board and started slicing tomatoes. “I know it was hard for Cole to move away, though it’s something he had to do to play football.”

“I’m sure he missed all of you.”

“He likes to play at being tough and independent, but at his heart he loves his family.”

An interesting observation, which was why she’d wanted to meet his parents.

“And here I am monopolizing your time. Let’s go into the family room.”

The family room was huge and spacious, with a super-large flat-screen television and copious amounts of seating. The Rileys must entertain a lot.

Savannah was certain Cole didn’t believe she’d show up, or maybe he hoped she wouldn’t, but when Cara led her into the family room, Cole frowned.

He stood and greeted her, but it was obvious he wasn’t happy to see her.

Cole’s father shook her hand, and Alicia gave her a hug.