Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) (12 page)

“Okay, drinks –
friendly
drinks – and I think that the steak and beer only make you smell more delicious. If you’d rather not go to a public bar, come to my home. I live nearby.”

“Right,” I retorted, tilting my head and landing my hand on my hip, disbelieving.

“Seriously. A townhouse in the Murray Hill area,” he said holding a hand out to flag down a passing cab.

“I shouldn’t,” I protested as a cab stopped at the curb. “And if it’s so close, why do we need a cab?”

“Well, for starters, I have a bruised toe. And secondly, it’s late. One can never be too careful on the streets of New York.”

I considered the fright I had been delivered earlier.

“And you owe me, Beth, remember?” he continued.

“You’re practically a stranger,” I added as Jack opened the cab door and held a hand out for me.

“No, I know we know each other from somewhere. I’m going to figure it out,” he asserted, ushering me into the cab.

While he slid in next to me, I had to smile. I knew our connection. I knew his nick name. I knew his background. What would he think of me if he figured out who I was? I doubted he’d remember. After all, the last time he’d seen me was more than thirty years ago, and I was only about ten years old.

“Thirty-eight and Third,” he told the driver, then settled back into the seat. The warmth of his body alongside mind did odd things to me. Things I’d not felt in years. My stomach lurched with butterflies, my cheeks flushed with a burn that traveled down my neck and onto my chest, my nipples started to draw tight. He looked over at me and inhaled gently. “You smell delicious. I could just eat you up.”

My heart pounded and my breath grew shallow. I was stunned at his forward comment. And already aroused, his comment went straight to my core, making me clench my thighs together to relieve at least
some
of this mounting energy. This was wrong. This would mean that Greg was right. I was here for another man. No way.

Inhaling slowly to try and calm my body down, Jack’s scent had the reverse affect I was hoping for with my breath. I tried to peg the cologne but I couldn’t. I smelled bergamot and juniper. I smelled rosemary and rosewood. And a musky, woodsy scent. “What cologne do you wear?”

He smiled. “Do you like it?” I nodded.

Jack chuckled and stirred next to me reaching into his jacket’s inside breast pocket pulling out his phone. “So, dinner? What night looks good for you?”

“We’re doing drinks,” I stated.

“But you said you’d love dinner, a
friendly
dinner,” he said with a wink and a smirk. “I have a dinner meeting tomorrow but Wednesday works for me. How about you?” His eyes settled on me and I just stared at him. I watched the passing lights play on his strong features. His eyes were darker, and not just because we were sitting in a dark cab. There was something predatory and hungry in them. Not in a way that left me fearful, but in a way that had me yearning.

I don’t know why, but I pulled out my iPhone, tearing my eyes from his gaze, to look at the calendar app. My work schedule had me off all day on Tuesday, for which I was grateful. I was only doing the lunch shift on Wednesday. Do I let him know and make the date? No. I had to talk to Suzie first. I needed to know why ‘Jackass-Jack’ was such a jackass.

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Wait, what?”

“I see you’re off at four on Wednesday. I’ll pick you up at seven. Surely you don’t need more than three hours to get home and ready? You’re much too beautiful to need lavish primping. Hell, I’d take you anywhere, just looking like this,” he said, reaching toward my face and drawing his finger down my jaw. His touch tingled and had me closing my eyes to block out the world.

He pulled the phone from my hands and tapped away at something. I should take my phone back, but I just couldn’t. What was going on with me? Why was I letting him walk all over me?

The cab suddenly stopped. Jack handed me my phone and then paid the cabbie. Shaking my head to clear the thoughts racing through my mind, I dumped my phone in my purse. Jack slipped out of the cab and extended me a hand. I slipped my hand into his and instantly regretted it. The fire that erupted between our hands told me that I was walking into danger. But I couldn’t stop.

Somehow I made it to Jack’s front door. Looking at the façade, it was unassuming. A simple looking townhome. The windows had nice shapes to them and the front door was a slick black with a beautiful brass knocker adorning the center of it. But otherwise, nothing out of this world. Jack slipped his key in and opened the door with a flourish.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he announced.

Humble my ass!
I thought stepping in as he guided me with his left hand on my lower back. An image of Kevin popped up in my mind, recalling
his
touch in the same place on my back. A place that was suddenly getting a lot of attention and was much more sensitive.

I turned my attention to the massive entry. This place was beyond impressive. It was the type of home you’d see on some prime time drama. It reminded me of when Phoebe used to watch
Gossip Girl.

Stepping into the opulent two story foyer with its black and white checkered floor, I nearly drooled at the curving carved wood staircase. In the center of the foyer sat a beautiful table with a hotel sized bouquet of seasonal flowers. Tucked into the greenery were yellow irises, white tulips and orange lilies. The art work on the walls were absolutely collectibles and included a Worhol, a Pollock and a Picasso. And judging from the surroundings, I didn’t think they were copies.

“Don’t just stand there,” he chided, and continued to guide me through to the living room just beyond the foyer. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”

T
he luxury of the entry was, as to be expected, continued into the living room. The ceilings were at least twelve feet high, and coffered trim work made them appear even higher. The room was extremely masculine, yet welcoming to women. Leather, suede, creams and browns of all shades, and accents of flowers all around, with hints of silver and mirrors. The windows, which were floor to ceiling, were adorned with chocolate brown and cream colored silk draperies that seductively played with the lighting. The room hugged you with a perfect balance of light and dark.

“What can I get you to drink?” Jack queried from the wet bar, off to the left of where I was standing, pulling me out of my inventory of the scrumptious room.

“Um, whatever you’re having,” I replied. Any alcohol would work right now. I needed something to bring me off of this ledge.

“Would you care for wine or something – harder?” I swallowed at the innuendo, my cheeks heating to a fever pitch. In fact, I was growing quite hot all over.

“Wine sounds terrific,” I choked out. His lips curled in wicked smirk and I couldn’t help but wonder what those lips would feel like on mine. Were they soft? Were they as commanding as his every word? Why was I here? I should have just gone home like a good girl.

“Please, Beth, take a seat,” he offered. “You look like you might take a dive at any moment.”

Inspecting the room, I contemplated an oversized, brown, velvet chair or a leather one. I chose the leather, lest I leave the scent of Ed Scott’s on the velvet, or spill the wine that Jack was pouring.

He strode over to where I was sitting and handed me a beautiful goblet of red wine. “Silver Oak, Napa Valley. 1997.”

“1997. An exceptional year for Napa. The Duncans are wonderful people.”

“Ahh. You know something about wine.”

“I’ve been living in Napa for the past twenty years or so.”

Jack took a seat in the chair adjacent to mine and raised his glass to propose a toast. He studied me, his eyes taking a measured study up and down my body. “To
friends
and where ever that road leads us.”

“To
friends,
” I repeated.

We gently clinked glasses and I took a sip. The wine was delicious. I surveyed the room some more, looking for clues as to who Jack Stevens was these days. This home was a far cry from the disheveled shack he had grown up in. I wondered if he had sent his parents any money to fix up their home back west.

“So, tell me, Jack. Who are you?”

“Not much to tell. Confirmed bachelor. No kids – or at least none that I know of. Successful business man. All around, one lucky son of a bitch,” he stated.

“And for business. What do you do?”

“I deal in images,” he said, simply.

“Like PR?”
Why was he being so coy? Why not just come out and say he runs a modeling agency?
I wondered.

“You sure are full of questions. How about I ask one?” he mused.

“Okay.”

“If you’re married, why did you come home with me?”

Now that
was
a very good question. Do I tell him that there’s this odd pull I feel toward him and can’t seem to tell him no, and mean it? Do I spill that he’s right, that I actually do know him, sort of?

“Is your husband unkind? Or abusive? Is he cheating on you? Or has he become more married to his work? Does he take a beautiful… warm… enchanting creature like yourself for granted?”

No. No. I don’t think so, probably not. Yes. Yes.

Was it that plain? Was I seeking attention that I wasn’t getting from my husband? Attention that Jack was so willingly giving? How do I answer that question without seeming like an ungrateful bitch? That I was married to an all-around nice guy who no longer ‘did it’ for me. Who gave me a nice home, and never questioned my spending, but I just didn’t really like being around him any longer. And that he was more interested in his work than me? I took a sip of my wine to buy some time.

“When was the last time he made love to you and made you scream his name in ecstasy?”

I choked on my sip of wine, not expecting that question, and ended up spitting my it out all over the beautiful carpet in a fine spray.

“Ohmigosh! I’m so sorry! Jack let me –” I leapt from the chair and rushed to the wet bar, searching for a towel to clean up the mess. Finding one and grabbing a small bottle of club soda, I rushed back to the chairs to clean up the mess.

On my hands and knees at his feet, I started to blot the carpet, feeling like a train wreck, profusely apologizing to Jack for the second time tonight.

Jack lifted one foot and placed it on the towel I was using. “Don’t. It’s an old carpet. I’ve been meaning to replace it anyway.”

“It’s a beautiful carpet, Jack. I’ll clean it. I’ll pay for it if I have to work doubles all month. I’m sorry.”

“I. Said. Don’t.” At his tone, I instantly froze. It wasn’t anger. It was simply authority. My eyes continued to survey the damage of the carpet, which admittedly wasn’t much. “Look at me.”

I raised my head enough to see him through my eyelashes. He leaned forward and pulled my chin further upward until my face was fully facing him. His eyes darted all around my face, from my eyes, to my mouth, and back to my eyes, his thumb gently rubbing my jaw.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“A little,” I whispered.

“Why?”

“That last… your questions… I just…” I sputtered. I didn’t know how to respond.

“I take back the last question. It was out of line. It’s just you look so sad… so lost when you say ‘I’m married.’ There’s a lot you’re not saying.”

Wow. How did he do that? Was I really that transparent? Why did his hand feel so good on my face? Why did he smell so good? Why did I get the sense that I would do anything he asked me?

He reached down and took the towel from my hand. “Besides, there’s no mess to speak of.”

“I need to use the ladies room.”

“It’s down the hall that way,” he said, pointing to a doorway.

“Thank you.”

He helped me up and I went down the hall in search of the bathroom.

Rounding the corner of the hallway, I rested my back on the wall and tried to catch my breath and calm my racing heart. I shouldn’t let him talk to me that way. And I shouldn’t be having these thoughts. But… But… It made me feel so desirable. Surely he talked like that to all the women. This was all a big game to him. He couldn’t mean any of it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, appearing next to me. He followed me?

“Jack, look, things are – my life is just –” He didn’t let me finish. His lips, soft lips, came down on mine. It was rather chaste, somewhat calming, yet firing off all sorts of bells and warnings – and arousal. I closed my eyes and an unbidden moan escaped my throat.

“Calm down,” he whispered, pulling back. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. But there’s something between us. You feel it, too. I know you do.”

I didn’t protest. I didn’t know why. I opened my eyes to see him regarding me as if I were the most precious thing in the world. His lips again joined mine and this time I kissed him back. It was a dance of lips and tongues that would seduce even the most conservative woman. My hands joined the dance exploring every inch of his extremely well-toned body. Man! This guy must workout for hours every day. His arms, his shoulders, his back… everywhere my hands roamed, they were greeted with taught muscle.