Simply Sex (16 page)

He looked up from his notebook and smiled his cocky grin, stretched a little wider just for her. The stinging blue of his eyes took her breath away and his scent made her dizzy. She wanted to lean close, tuck against his body. She wanted his arm around her, his kiss on her lips, his voice in her ear.

He’d come for more atmosphere, he’d said, but his gaze clung to her like polyester socks in a dryer and every word he said to her was soft with longing. The heat between them made the air thicken and time slow.

He’s at least a Wounded Loner, possibly a Stubborn Single,
she reminded herself sternly. He was a reporter. He had to make her think he was tuned in. Their profiles were impossible.

But he was looking at her as though she was his sun, his religion, something he had to commit to memory from top to bottom and inside out. This had to mean something, didn’t it?

She struggled to focus on helping him with the story. “So, you can see how the Close-Up gives character insights, right?”

“I’d say it was utterly mortifying. That poor guy had sweat rings on his sweat rings.”

“Everyone shows tension, but the videos give Potentials a better sense of the person.”

“At least talk them out of clichés. ‘I enjoy quiet evenings with a good book and the woman I love’? Sounds like a bad personal ad.”

“That’s what Gail says. When she does the videos, she tells the client to ‘be fresh’ and ‘go deep.’ Except those come out kind of…raw.”

“Better raw than canned.”

“I suppose you could do better,” she teased, then realized what a good idea that was. “Why don’t you show me? Just as a for instance?”

“You mean…sit
there
…and do
that?
” He pointed at the set.

“Sure. Show me how it should be done.”

He wanted to decline, she could see, but he shot her a piece-of-cake grin and headed to the stool.

He leaned on it, half-sitting, legs crossed at the ankle, arms folded, but she could tell he was uneasy. He glanced at the camera, then away, and a muscle ticked in his cheek.

She loaded a tape, then peered through the viewfinder at him. “Okay. You look good.”

He looked straight at her then, warming her from all those feet away.

“Ready…? You’re…on.”

“I should say up front that I’m not the easiest guy to be with.” He flashed his teeth in a wicked grin. Essential bad boy. “I’m a journalist, which makes me curious…and… skeptical. No bullshit, I guess. I can be…opinionated.” Then he paused and she felt his eyes bore through the lens straight to her soul. “But spend time with me and I promise I’ll make it interesting.”

“How will you do that?”

“By keeping my eyes open—yours, too, if you’ll let me. Even a stint at the DMV can be fun. Say you conduct a poll of what people would be doing if they weren’t standing in line. Or take bets on which line will move faster. The losers pay the winners’ fees.”

“So, you’d take a date to get license plates?”

“We’d work up to that. Maybe we’d start at the airport—baggage claim…make up stories about the arriving passengers. Who’s in love? Who’s leaving home for good? What’s in the pink flowered bag? The long skinny case? If that’s too dull, we’d wander over to the shoe-shine guy and let him tell us stories he’s heard polishing wingtips over the years.”

She found herself smiling. “Not bad.”

Now his words seemed aimed straight at her. “This is the deal…I’m not much for roses and sunsets and cognac by the fire, but I promise my favorite view will be your face.”

She took a shaky breath that made the camera jiggle.

“You interested, Janie?” he asked softly.

Her ears burned at the way he’d said her name…as if his life depended on it.
What matters is compatibility,
Kylie had correctly reminded her. But look at his eyes… only for Janie…as if his mission were to learn how she ticked…his expression so steady, so there.

She straightened to face him. “Very,” she said and found herself moving toward him. Slowly, not entirely sure of what she was doing, but making a beeline all the same.

And he was coming at her dead-on, too.

They met halfway and wrapped their arms around each other so hard they swayed. His lips took hers and she opened to him, tasting coffee and mint and man and so much heat. They held each other as if for dear life.

This kiss was so much better than the first two. It was deliberate and solid and real and all of him was in it. Along with all of her.

Janie’s heart flip-flopped in her chest like a frog escaping a child’s grasping fingers. Her blood rushed downward, making her heavy and achy below the waist. She was desperately aroused, but at the same time, she wanted to release a big belly laugh. Lust and laughter at the same time? This was new. It scared her and she liked it.

They kissed for long, lovely minutes. The room slipped away, her doubts faded, until all she was aware of was this man who wanted her so much he was shaking with it.

Then Seth stilled. She felt him pull back a barely detectable bit. A warning trickle of ice water eased down Janie’s neck and she knew the truth. Seth would leave. This hello kiss held the seeds of farewell. There would be a goodbye as painful as this embrace was glorious. And she was too strong and too smart to go through that again.

What the hell was he doing?
Seth asked himself. He wanted this woman as much as he’d ever wanted anyone. Which was insane. Even if he’d finished the story, Jane Falls would want the whole megillah—a relationship, a future, something concrete with a mortgage. He couldn’t commit to anything now. Not with so much of his life up in the air.

He forced himself to break it off. Janie jerked away at the same time, so that they both rocked into thin air and back, nearly banging their heads together.

“Whoa,” he said. He tried for a grin, but ended up with something as foolishly lopsided as he felt.

“This could be trouble,” she said. She was trying to joke, but her eyes burned with desire. At the same time panic flickered like a TV about to turn off.

He cupped her cheek with one hand and wanted to kiss her mouth, bruised-looking from the kiss they’d just shared. “I’d better write the damn story.”

“Sure,” she said, kissing his palm, fighting sadness. “Make me look good?” There was a whisper of worry in her voice.

He stopped himself before he promised exactly that. “I’ll write the best story I can.”

“But it will be positive, right?”

He wanted to reassure her, but he couldn’t and be the kind of reporter he prided himself on being. The kind who swore impartiality, accuracy, fairness. Period.

Even a puff piece demanded integrity.

“I’ll write the best story I can,” he repeated flatly. He wanted to make her happy, though, wanted to promise her whatever she wanted or needed. What was going on? He felt soft and confused and not himself. He had to get out and clear his head.

Except his thoughts grew muddier than the Blue Mountain Jamaican he was soon sucking down in the nearby coffee shop. He wanted her in his life. Jane was a butterfly with a steel spine and he just felt better around her. The bitter thoughts about Ana blew away like smoke and he felt different. Hopeful.

Maybe it was her faith in love. Or that bite to her eyes that said she had fire and dreams. She was different from Ana, who was as cynical as he was, truth be told. Janie was easier on the world. And he found that relaxing—life-affirming, which sounded hokey as hell.

Hokey wasn’t all bad, was it?

Could he be what Jane needed? He wasn’t so sure. He had to talk to her. And grab that video, now that he thought about it. Talk about feeling naked. He wasn’t even sure she’d shut it off before the kiss. That was a perfect example of how he lost his sense of himself around her. That made him uneasy.

He headed back for the video. And to talk to Janie. He’d write his story, file it and they’d take it from there. By the time he pushed through the Personal Touch door, he was shaking like a leaf. Too much caffeine, no doubt.

No receptionist again. Gail was a ghost who made her presence known only by the occasional clank of a bracelet. Janie’s office was open, but empty, so he headed down the hall to the video room. He could hear voices as he approached, including Janie’s distinctive laugh. The video room was empty—Janie was in the room just beyond talking to at least two people. He paused between the doors, just to get a sense of whether the meeting was ending. He burned to talk to Janie.

“I have to say your client agreement invites legal action,” a man said. “Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t been sued before now.”

Sued? Janie was being sued? Seth’s neck hairs stood up like a short forest. He backed silently away from the door, unseen by the group, and into the video room, moving close to the thin wall to listen in.

“Not to mention using me—your own sister—as a dating shill,” a woman said, sounding amused. “The worst were the married ones.”

The man laughed. His voice was familiar to Seth.

“It’s not funny, Cole. It was a Web site glitch,” Janie said.

Cole? Had to be Cole Sullivan. That was why he sounded familiar. Seth kept listening, his attention sharp as razor wire, dread a stone in his chest.

“And you didn’t have to
sleep
with them, Kylie,” Janie said in a serious tone. The other two stopped laughing abruptly. Sullivan cleared his throat.

Good God. Janie had her sister sleeping with clients? Was this an escort service after all?

“The point is, we should be grateful for this lawsuit,” Janie’s sister said. “Now Cole’s helping us cover your ass. Thank you, Marlon Brandon.” No wonder Sullivan had been so cagey on the phone. He was their
attorney.

“How could his parents do that to him? Name him Marlon? I bet he gets called Brando all the time,” Janie’s sister said.

“He’s a little sensitive about it. He goes by Brandon as a first name sometimes. Though that might be because his business is Brandon Remodeling.” Janie sounded pretty calm for someone in big legal trouble. Had she been coolly lying to him? Blinking those big eyes and feeding him a fat line of bull? Seth felt chilled to the bone.

“He doesn’t sound like the sensitive type,” her sister said.

“Trust me. He is. So I kept that in mind when I chose his matches. I try to keep client sensitivities in mind. Like I know you and Deborah Ramsdale both have time-management issues when it comes to relationships.”

“That’s true,” the guy mumbled.

“And you’re ready for her return, Cole? You two have this
thing
under control.”

“Of course,” Janie’s sister jumped in. “Just like you have your
thing
under control with the reporter. You do, don’t you?”

“Oh. Yes. I…” Her words trailed off and he could practically hear Janie breathe.

“Uh-oh,” her sister said. “What?”

“Nothing. He was here this morning, that’s all.”

“Again? Why?”

“He watched me make a Close-Up.”

“The man could have written that story six times over, Janie. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. He’s writing it now. Don’t worry. He’s done.”

He was back, though. To tell her he cared about her. And find out she
was
too good to be true.

“At least
you
worked
him
instead of the other way around,” the sister said. “And the story will be positive, right?”

“I did my best,” she said. The words hit him like a bat across the back. She’d worked him? He couldn’t have been that blind or dimwitted. There had been real emotion in her eyes, real heat in her kiss, real longing in the arms she’d wrapped around him.

Meanwhile, she was being sued and her sister was sleeping with clients. Married ones even? His neck prickle intensified and his reporter brain went into crystal focus. Here was the angle. And he’d sensed it all along. She’d been nervous when he’d asked about finances, now that he thought about it, and practically begged him for a good story—even joked about a bribe. He’d yet to check out the sex calls. Phone sex would be fast cash for a strapped business. And an escort service was big money. He’d been an idiot.

He’d been so taken in he’d ignored his instincts. He knew about sociopaths. He’d just never fallen in love with one before.

He listened long enough to learn about a meeting the next day with the remodeler. He would check out the lawsuit with the guy. Track down Deborah Ramsdale, too, through her firm, which the receptionist had mentioned the other day. What would Ms. Ramsdale think about Sullivan sleeping with Janie’s sister? His reporter side thrilled with the rush of the hunt. The rest of him was pissed. At Janie for tricking him. And himself for falling for it.

But he wouldn’t be sidetracked now. If his guesses proved true, he’d forget the
Inside Phoenix
piece and take the exposé to Eye Out For You. In fact, he’d pitch the idea to the producer right away, just to test the waters. This could be his ticket to local investigative work. This fluff crap had made him soft.

Through the wall, he heard Janie laugh and his heart cramped tight.
She would be so hurt.
He didn’t want to get ahead that way. He pictured her face when she talked about her mission. She’d actually had tears in her eyes telling him about the couple naming their kid after her.