Love the One You're With (12 page)

“Jake,” she said in her smooth, upper-class voice.

“Grace.” He pushed past into her apartment. She let him.

“Nice place,” he said looking around at the surprisingly warm apartment. He'd been expecting lots of blues and whites and stainless steel, but instead she'd opted for amiable browns and earth colors. The effect was welcoming. Calming.

“I was about to take a bath,” she said pointedly. “It's late.”

He didn't give a fuck.

He spun back toward the conniving little sneak, moving toward her until she was backed against the door. He saw the pulse in her neck leap, and any other time he might have celebrated her reaction. Might have even lightly run his tongue along that delicate flutter.

But then he remembered the appalled look on Alex Cassidy's face when he'd called Jake into his office and shown him that damn website. Remembered the incredulous amusement on his colleagues' faces after word got around that Jake had been outsmarted.

He didn't even blame them. He'd be smirking too if one of the other
Oxford
guys had been dumb enough to get his dick caught in some wily female's trap.

He wanted to grab Grace's defiant chin and kiss the smug look off her face, but then he'd only be proving that damn website's point.

And the woman didn't need any more ammunition against him.

“For a website called HeSaidSheSaid-dot-com, you certainly didn't bother to get the he-said portion,” Jake growled.

“And what would the
he
portion have entailed?” she said quietly. “Would he have denied it?”

“Hell no,” he said. “I wanted you that day, and I don't care who knows it.”

She blinked. “You don't?”

“Nope. If I cared about keeping my private life private, I sure as hell wouldn't have agreed to work for a magazine that occasionally demands I spill my guts.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“The problem, Grace, is that you, my
partner
in this, didn't give me the least bit of warning.”

She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. First of all, we're not partners. We both know this is a competition. Second of all, if you'd had this idea first … if
Oxford
had sent a camera to catch irrefutable proof that I wanted you, would you have told me? Or would you have jumped at the chance to gain the upper hand?”

He wanted to refute her accusation. He couldn't. It
had
been a damned good idea. And she was right. He wished he'd thought of it first.

So what the hell was eating at him? His pride was stinging, sure, but the burn was deeper than that.

“I wanted you to trust me,” he said quietly, putting both palms flat on the door on either side of her head and leaning forward for a split second before pushing back and turning away from her. “We agreed that next month's print article would be about reading sexual undertones of a second date. I wrote it the afternoon after that lunch, and I was honest.
Oxford
readers were
going to hear from
me
just how badly I wanted to know what color your bra was, and if your ass is as great up close as it is from a distance.”

“You can still tell them yourself,” she said giving him a patronizing smile. “This online portion was just a little appetizer to get people excited about the upcoming October issue.”

“Bullshit,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “This was about revenge, pure and simple.”

She wisely clammed up as she tightened the belt of the tiny little robe and moved toward the fridge.

The woman had fantastically curvy legs. And if that robe would just creep a couple of inches higher, he'd get a prime view of the ass that he couldn't get out of his mind. His fingers itched.

He shoved them in his pocket.

What was
wrong
with him?

“Wine?” she asked, pulling a bottle out of the fridge.

“You're changing the subject,” he said. “And I'll take a drink, but do you have anything stronger?”

She poured a glass of wine for herself before gesturing to the sidebar along the window. “Help yourself.”

Jake poured himself a healthy dose of excellent bourbon before helping himself to a couple of ice cubes from her freezer.

She leaned back against the counter, watching him warily. “So you already wrote your piece?”

“Yup. Finished it about ten minutes before my boss called me into his office and showed me my splattered dignity all over his computer screen.”

He was oddly gratified to see the flash of guilt on her face. She was devious, but at least she wasn't completely without a conscience.

“You work fast,” she said quietly.

“What can I say? A couple things were fresh on my mind.” He let his eyes linger on her chest, and as he expected, her fingers reflexively moved to grasp the lapels of her robe and pull them closer together. She caught his knowing look, and her knuckles tightened briefly before she removed her hand.

All that fussing with the robe left it more open than it had been before. Not enough to give him a glimpse of cleavage, but just the smallest shrug of her shoulders or the tiniest tug with his fingers, and he'd be able to see …

Christ
. Jake resisted the urge to dive into her freezer for more ice cubes. Anything to cool off and keep from touching her.

She ran a hand over her smooth ponytail before moving onto one of the bar stools at her kitchen island, taking a sip of her wine, and crossing her legs primly as though granting an interview to a curious reporter instead of dealing with a horny
man
.

The robe was millimeters away from revealing whether or not she was wearing panties, and Jake was rapidly forgetting why he'd called in a dozen favors to track down Grace's address. Revenge? A tantrum? Confirmation that she wanted him too? A guarantee that she'd be honest and put that in
her
article?

“There was no dream, was there, Grace?”

She blinked a little in surprise. “What?”

“That text message. Implying that you'd had a naked dream about me.”

“I never said I was naked,” she demurred.

“But you must have known I'd picture it that way,” he said, moving toward her. “You must have known that I'd picture you naked in your bed, waking up thinking about me. Wanting me. Maybe touching yourself.”

She tried to bolt off the bar stool, but he was faster, both hands clamping down on her hips and holding her still.

“So tell me … there was no such dream, was there?”

“No,” she whispered. She licked her lips then, and that was all it took. It was over for him.

“There's about to be.”

Then he dipped his head, and his lips found hers.

Grace may not have had an
actual
dream about Jake, but she'd done plenty of daydreaming.

Turns out, her daydreaming didn't even come close.

She'd known he'd be a good kisser; she just hadn't expected to find out firsthand. Nor had she expected to be wrong.

Jake Malone wasn't a great kisser.

He was fantastic.

Grace wasn't sure when she'd moved, but her hands had found the front of his shirt, clasping him to her as though he was the best thing she'd ever tasted. And he just might be. He tasted like bourbon and man, and it was a good thing his hands were still pinning her hips to the chair because otherwise she'd be crawling up his body and wrapping her legs around his waist.

As it was, she contented herself with his lips, and they were very,
very
fine lips.

He explored her in demanding, drugging kisses, and when his tongue finally slipped between her lips she heard a moan.

Hers? His? It didn't matter.

His tongue was circling hers, slipping and sliding in a perfect seductive rhythm.

Grace slid her hands from his shirt to his neck, tugging him even closer.

In response, his hands slid from the side of her hips to under her butt and he lifted her against him only briefly before settling her on top of her kitchen counter so their mouths were even. One hand tangled in her hair as the other slid just slightly into the opening of her robe. His hand settled just above her breast, the backs of his fingers against her heart.

Oh God.

Her heart
.

The very thing that was likely to get engaged if she didn't put a stop to this now.

Grace pulled away on a gasp, her fingers reflexively tightening in his shirt as though loath to release him before she jerked her hands back.

It should have relieved her to see that he was breathing as hard as she and that his eyes were as clouded as she knew her own were.

But instead it scared the crap out of her. What the hell was going on here?

“Was that my punishment?” she asked, her voice coming out raspy.

He closed his eyes and took a small step back. “Is that what you think? That I have a camcorder hidden in my tie knot and I'm going to post it on that godforsaken website?”

She ran a hand over her hair to smooth it, but gave up when she realized it was hopelessly mussed from Jake's fingers.

“So we're not mentioning this in the article?”

He swore and retrieved his drink. “Journalistic integrity demands that we should.”

Grace nodded. “It does.”

“It would be fair to our readers.”

She nodded again. “Definitely.”

“I don't think we should.”

Grace's head bowed in relief. “I
definitely
don't think we should. It's understandable that we might inadvertently cross wires between our professional and personal involvement. We can simply chalk this up to a mistake and refocus on the goal.”

Jake's eyes burned dark. “That's not why I … Shit. Fine.”

Grace awkwardly climbed down from her perch on the counter, being careful not to let her robe ride up. Not that he was even trying to sneak a peek. He had a preoccupied, distant expression on his face.

“So what's next?” Grace asked. “I mean, we agreed to see this thing through for five dates, and I don't think we should count
this
one as a date.”

“Yeah. God forbid a date should involve kissing.”

“It's not an
actual
date, Jake,” Grace snapped.

“Right, because you don't do those. Not until your arbitrary six months are up.”

Grace snatched her wine off the counter and went around to the other side of the kitchen. “I am not having that conversation with you.”

“Why, because I'm a
man
? In addition to not sleeping with men, you can't talk to them either?”

Her lips pressed together in irritation. “You're being surly.”

“Blue balls will do that to a guy.”

Do not look at his balls. Do not …

Hell, it was impossible not to, although she dragged her eyes back up to his immediately. His expression hadn't changed.

Too late Grace realized that she'd apparently locked 2.0 in some deserted closet in her brain for the evening. A pity. She
really
could have used her new alter ego's resolve when she'd had her fingers tangled in Jake's hair.

“Next date's on me,” Jake said, tossing back the rest of his whisky and heading to the door.

She so did not like the sound of that.

“When? What? Where?” She danced after him, reluctant to let him go until she knew what their next move was.

He turned back then, stopping so suddenly she nearly ran into him.

Jake's hand gently reached out to grab her wrist, his thumb pressing to the spot that she knew was throbbing erratically. They both watched his big thumb on her small wrist for several seconds before he slowly lifted his eyes to hers.

“I'll be in touch.”

He left much more quietly than he arrived, and Grace stood perfectly still for several minutes after he'd shut the door.

I'll be in touch
.

It had sounded like a threat.

The October issue went to press. And Grace tried to tell herself that she was content with the fact that Jake confessed to having “serious naked thoughts about Grace Brighton.”

But had the man who claimed to find her “ridiculously attractive” bothered to call?

No. No, he had not.

Instead it had just been a slew of flirty text messages, and damned if those didn't make her feel like a girl with a crush.

Jake:
What are you wearing?

She'd texted him back, equally flirty:
Wouldn't you like to know?

That had only been the first of many, and Grace was embarrassed to admit even to herself how often she reread his texts.

The only trouble was …

Those damn texts were now up for public consumption.

“I can't believe Camille gave Alex Cassidy the login information for the website,” Riley said as she, Riley, Emma, and Grace huddled around Julie's computer.

“I can't believe he put their text message communications up for everyone to analyze. Totally tacky,” Julie said loyally.

“Well, it does make sense,” Emma said calmly in her slight southern drawl. “I mean, it's HeSaidSheSaid. We needed the
he
part.”

Three irritated female eyes glared at the newest member of their group, but Emma merely shrugged. “I make a valid point.”

“Valid or not, it still misrepresents Gracie.”

“Not unlike how I misrepresented Jake,” Grace said reluctantly. She wasn't thrilled with the man. She really wasn't. But at least the score was even now.

She just wished she hadn't sounded so damn
needy
in the messages he'd blasted all over the World Wide Web.