Kitabı oku: «First Time For Everything», sayfa 3

CHAPTER THREE

EYES FIXED ON the middle-aged man inside the small, glassedin booth of the run-down parking lot, Jax carefully kept the panic from her tone as she leaned closer to the speaker in the window, acutely aware of Blake’s gaze on her.

“What do you mean I can’t retrieve my car until Monday? We still live in a democracy, don’t we? I have a right to retrieve my property, don’t I?” she said to the attendant, pointing at her old VW Beetle parked among all the other cars surrounded by a chain-link fence.

Jailed, just as she had been. And it wasn’t fair her car should pay the penalty for her mistakes.

“Cry me a river, lady.” Perched on his stool, the man swiped a hand through his thinning hair in irritation. “Next time don’t park your car in a two-hour parking spot and leave it there for six hours.”

“I got arrested,” she said, her face flooding with heat at her poorly worded defense. But there was no taking back the overshare now. “I couldn’t move my car.”

“It’s not my fault you got tossed in the slammer,” he said, and Jax forced her chin higher. “And I ain’t the one making the rules, either,” he went on. “I’m just paid to follow them.”

“What rule dictates that I have to go to the city municipal building first?”

“The one that applies to a previous unpaid parking ticket of yours. And the order states you can’t get your car until you pay that delinquent fine. And you can’t pay that fine until Monday morning at nine o’clock.”

Jax opened her mouth to protest, but Blake interrupted.

“Then Monday morning it is. Thanks for your help,” Blake said smoothly, taking her elbow.

His touch brought back the memory of being in his office, the overwhelming need to kiss him, and every muscle in Jax’s body tensed. Despite his cool demeanor, she knew he was dying to make a comment about her delinquent parking ticket. The one she’d stuffed into the bottom of her purse. And with all the turmoil at the club recently, it hadn’t been high on her priorities.

Just one more sin stacked up on her towering pile of crimes.

And her need to secure a bit of freedom from Blake was escalating by the minute. The purposefully bland expression. The glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Not to mention her growing obsession with those broad shoulders, the lean hips and those lips…

As he led her back to his car, she hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. “I need my vehicle.”

“You can use Nikki’s until Monday,” he said reasonably.

A frown threatened. “But right now we’re not far from South Glade Teen Center. I was planning on leaving here and swinging by to check in with everybody.”

“I’ll take you.”

Her heart tanked. Great. More time cooped up with Blake in his car. The ride over had been strained as they’d both diligently ignored her additional condition on the contract, an impulsive decision on her part. But she hadn’t been able to stop herself, because Blake had been looking at her as if he wanted to kiss her and was dismayed by the thought at the same time. Not exactly an ego booster. And the last time a man had looked at her like that—with the combination of desire and a doubting-her-sanity look—she’d vowed she wouldn’t put herself into that position again… .

Her stomach knotted as she remembered the expression on Jack’s face—the man she’d once hoped to build a permanent relationship with. Maybe even, God forbid, start a family.

Because who didn’t want a core group of people, or at least one other person, to whom you always belonged? Someone to lean on when the world turned cruel and unusual. Outside of the teen center, the concept of a permanent home had eluded her since she was ten years old. As a grown-up she’d finally been free to create one of her own. After a false start—her former boyfriend a massive disappointment, to say the least—she’d finally realized she didn’t need a man to achieve her goal.

The club had been all the family she needed.

She looked longingly at her beautiful, beat-up Beetle and let out a sigh. And she’d been so looking forward to escaping Blake’s presence in exchange for a visit to the center—her safe place since her adolescent days—giving her nervous system a much-needed holiday.

As they neared his sleek Lexus, Blake said, “I’m curious. Why do you need to go by the club?” He rounded to the driver’s side, looking at her over the hood. “To check in with the kids you’re supposed to be providing a good example to?”

She shot him a lethal look as she opened the passenger side and then dropped into the seat, pulling the door closed with a hard thunk.

Blake slipped into the driver’s seat. “And do tell,” he went on, closing his door and turning to face her, clearly struggling to maintain an impassive expression, “what other life lessons do you teach besides getting arrested, parking illegally and not paying your traffic fines?”

She refused to grind her teeth in annoyance. And it would be so much easier if he’d just go ahead and laugh at her with those sensual lips, so he could move on to more important things.

Like kissing her.

The sexual tension, the awareness, was a living, fire-breathing thing that was so much worse when enclosed in small spaces with the infuriating man. Especially now that she knew it was mutual.

Damn it.

“Trespassing?” Thickly fringed eyes on her, he went on lightly, listing the possibilities. “Shoplifting?” The knot of attraction and irritation in her gut twisted harder as he went on. “Or maybe—”

Desperate to end the sarcasm, she placed her fingers on that maddening, sensual mouth, halting his words. And everything went still.

Except for the need surging through her body…

Blood whooshed in her ears as his gray eyes, flecked with gold, remained fixed on hers. Her nerve endings vibrated from the sensation of firm lips, smooth, stubble-free skin and warm breath seeping between her fingers. There was no mistaking the heat in his gaze or the tension in his body, clearly a combination of lust and steel—the steel communicating just how much he was humoring her by not calling her out on her impertinent move. And what would he be like if the lust won and he released all that careful control?

As she held his mouth, the seconds ticked by with only the faint sound of their breathing, until she finally controlled her own emotions enough to keep herself from doing something rash.

Either throttling him or tasting that sexy mouth, she wasn’t sure which.

Her voice low, she forced herself to continue to meet his heated gaze. “You get one more comment, Suit. And then I’m cutting you off.” Two heartbeats passed, long enough for her to wonder if he was again contemplating kissing her, and then she said, “Well?” She dropped her hand and raised a prompting eyebrow, braced for his last verbal jab. Would it be angry? Amused? Or, God help her, sexual? “What’s the comment going to be?”

The pause was brief, but the intensity in his eyes scorched her insides, leaving the moment feeling longer than it was. “I think that with your lifestyle,” he said, his voice huskily amused, as if struggling between the dueling notions of humor and sex, “you should keep a full-time lawyer on retainer.”

Irritated by his words, Jax pressed her lips together and pivoted to face forward, crossing her arms to contain her thrumming heart in her chest. “Just turn on the car and drive.”

Blake parked on the street in front of the South Glade Teen Center and turned off his car, looking doubtfully at the old downtown warehouse that had been converted into a club for kids. Alarm bells were ringing in his head again, the same ones that had sounded earlier when Jax had touched him. But this alert was of a nonsexual kind and triggered by his environment.

To say that the club was located in a questionable part of town was being generous.

“It doesn’t look safe to park here,” he said.

“It isn’t,” Jax said with a careless tone as they exited the Lexus and headed for the front door. “But with your fancy security system, I doubt anyone will steal your car. Of course, that won’t keep some random kids from having fun.”

The alarm crept higher. “Fun?”

“You know, doing a little redecorating with spray paint or a set of keys,” she said. Frowning, he opened the door to let her into the building, and she shot him a saccharine-sweet grin as she passed by. “Maybe a tire iron or two.”

Her tone was unconcerned. But then again, it wasn’t her car. Or maybe the many dents in her old Beetle were from a tire iron, as well.

His lips twisted wryly. “Thanks for the warning,” he said, following her inside.

They headed deeper into the building, passing clusters of kids of various ages and ethnicities. Although they eyed Blake with suspicion, each group was clearly excited to see Jax, some of the preteens rushing to give her a hug. The older ones were too cool for outward displays of affection, but beneath their ribbing and sarcastic comments lay a fondness that was impossible to miss.

And with each acknowledgment, Jax grew more relaxed, her previous tension evaporating as she ruffled heads and dispensed smiles, heading for the stairwell on the far side of the gym. They passed a contentious game of basketball involving a dozen lanky male adolescents, and several called out in greeting to Jax, joking about her arrest. She waved in reply and returned each verbal jab with a quip of her own, obviously knowing each kid’s history, leaving the players laughing as she started up the narrow stairway to the second floor.

“I’ll just swing by the office and check my mail,” she said to Blake. “I also need to get my guitar from my locker.”

“A guitar?” He wasn’t particularly surprised by her choice of instrument, and he tried hard to ignore the delicious curve of her backside, the seductive sway of hips just several steps in front of him as their footsteps echoed in the small, shabby stairwell. “Do you take requests?”

She kept her back to him. “I doubt I know anything you’d like to hear.”

“How about Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Free Bird’?”

Surprise brought her head around with a jerk. “‘Free Bird’?” Her eyebrows lowered in doubt, and her footsteps slowed. “I never would have pegged you for an old Southern rock fan.”

“I’m not,” he said, suppressed humor bunching his brow. “But anyone who’s been bailed out of jail should have ‘Free Bird’ as their theme song.”

Her eyes slowly narrowed as she stopped and faced him, raising his heart rate. Her location on the stairs brought them eye to eye, her mouth level with his.

The perfect position for capturing those lips.

“Your ability to deliver a subtle slap on the wrist is extraordinary, Suit,” she said silkily. “It takes real talent to chastise someone in the same breath as a musical request.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but the awareness did. “But I have my own ideas for a personal theme song.”

Voice huskier than usual, he said, “So what song would be most appropriate?”

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, as a small, purely female smile crept up her face. “Let’s see.” Mouth pursed, she pretended to give the question careful consideration, and he couldn’t get past the image of her puckered lips. “I was thrown in jail for defending an institution that I believe in,” she said, sending him a pointed look. “And then promptly chastised for my reckless behavior by a man who thinks he’s living life on the edge when he ignores the do-not-remove-by-penalty-of-law tag on his mattress.”

He barely managed to repress the image of her on his mattress. “I would never do that.”

“Of course not. How about make a right on red when it’s posted not to?”

“It’s against the law,” he said lightly.

Her hazel eyes flickered with heat. “Briefly park your car in the drop-off lane at the airport?”

“Illegal.” He struggled to keep the sizzle from his gaze. “Not to mention inconsiderate.”

Jax bit her delectable lip, clearly suppressing the grin as she turned and continued up, reaching the second floor and moving down an empty hallway. “So my willingness to risk an arrest for my cause is being questioned by a man who thinks I’m reckless for leaving home without an umbrella when there’s a ten percent chance of rain. I’m thinking the most appropriate song for me is ‘It’s My Life’ by Bon Jovi.” She entered a small, cramped office with two desks and stopped, turning to face him again. “But that’s only because I’m not aware of any songs entitled—” Jax leaned in, bringing her arousing, obstinate gaze closer “—‘My Choices Are None of Your Damn Business.’”

She was near enough for him to see the flecks of brown and green in her eyes. But he didn’t require a close-up view to see the fire snapping in her gaze, the stubborn insistence that she would do what she wanted and damn The consequences.

Including touching him…

The memory resurfaced, resurrecting the acute need she’d created when she’d held his lips. Her soft fingers. The heated skin. And the smell of vanilla filling the car. Suddenly he was struck with the realization that Jax’s scent was always changing, as unpredictable as the woman herself.

With his heart pounding, his tone was rough as he dished up a dose of harsh reality. “Your choices are my business now.”

At the reminder of her current living arrangements—made more alarming by the chemistry sizzling between them—time stretched. Expanded to impossible lengths. Gazes locked, the moment lasted ten forevers as awareness pulsed between them. Until they were interrupted by a woman about Jax’s age as she poked her head through the doorway.

“Janet Bennet stopped by looking for you, Jax,” the blonde said. Blake cleared his throat, willing his libido to heel, and Jax took a small step back as her coworker sent her an encouraging smile. “There’s a private-practice therapy group in town that’s looking to hire a music therapist, and she recommended you. Apparently the job is yours if you want it,” the woman continued. “They can afford to pay you a lot better, too.”

Looking unconcerned, Jax retrieved her mail from the cubbyholes lining one wall and began flipping through the envelopes. “I’ll hold out until South Glade is back on its feet.”

“You haven’t heard?” her coworker said.

Eyes now alert, Jax looked up from her mail. “Heard what?”

“The board held an emergency meeting. Even if we get the funds back—”

“When,” Jax said. Mail clutched tightly in her hand, she lowered her arms a bit. “Not if.”

The blonde’s face softened in sympathy. “When we get the funds, their rehiring of you depends on the outcome of your charges.”

Jax’s face lost a little of its color and a lot of its usual vitality, and an unwanted stab of sympathy hit Blake. Unable to stop himself, he stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on her arm.

“Tell Janet I said thanks for thinking of me,” Jax said, her voice strained. She sent Blake a look that was hard to interpret. “But I’ll beat the charges.”

And, without a word of warning, Jax headed out of the office, murmuring a thanks to her coworker as she passed. Blake sent the woman a polite smile and muttered an “excuse me” before following Jax out of the office. He caught up with her silent form as she neared a line of lockers along the scuffed hallway. the graceful sway of her hips was marked by a slight stiffness he knew was due to tension, and this time was not of the sexual kind.

Making her way down the line of lockers, she stopped at one and worked the lock. Her fingers took several tries to finagle the combination, and Blake’s sympathy soared higher.

“You should take the job offer,” he said.

She jerked the door open, the inside plastered with posters of bands and music artists, a wide assortment of country, rock, hip-hop and blues, just to name a few. Her jaw was set. “I’ll wait until the club gets the money to reinstate the music program here.”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall of lockers adorned with graffiti and crossed his arms as she pulled out her guitar.

“And what if they don’t get the money?” he said.

“We will.” Hand on the locker door, she turned to face him. “Because I’m going to make sure that we do.”

“Okay,” he said doubtfully, a part of him impressed by her perseverance—a by-product of her stubbornness, clearly—and her natural confidence.

But one thing he’d learned long ago: you couldn’t change the world through sheer force of will. And he felt obligated to be the voice of reason. Because someone needed to be pragmatic and, just like with his own family, apparently that someone had to be him.

“What happens if the board doesn’t approve of the outcome of your charges?” he said.

She closed the locker door firmly, the noise echoing down the empty hallway.

Her hazel eyes were steady on his, and her words left him uneasy. “I have an excellent lawyer, so I’m not concerned.”

The next afternoon, teak oil and supplies in hand, Blake headed through the shelf-lined utility room of his home, looking forward to a few moments of peace and relaxation as he applied the oil to the railing on his boat. Tinkering with his catamaran was the perfect antidote to stress. He always started his Sundays—the only day he took off—by unwinding with the mindless activity. But today he’d spent the morning working on Jax’s case.

And any time spent thinking about Jax was always disturbing.

For the hundredth time that day, his mind drifted back to yesterday and the feel of her fingers on his mouth. Unfortunately, even sleep hadn’t provided him with an escape. Because last night he’d been tortured by dreams. Erotic, scorching dreams that would make facing her and keeping his thoughts to himself much more difficult. Desperate to free his mind of the perplexing woman, if only for a moment, Blake headed out the door and onto the pool deck…and then came to an abrupt halt.

His usually peacefully quiet pool was now inhabited by five females—his mother, Nikki and Jax, along with two adolescents he’d never met. Blake let out a frustrated groan.

He missed the days when retreat was possible.

He missed the days when Nikki was at college, worrying him from afar instead of from under his nose.

And he missed the days when his self-control wasn’t subjected to repeated blows, the sight of Jax in shorts and a tank top, guitar in hand, revving up his heart in a manner that couldn’t be good for his blood pressure.

Nikki and his mother sat in two chaise longues next to the poolside waterfall. Jax and the two unknown teens were engaged in what appeared to be a guitar lesson at the patio table, an open bag of caramels and candy wrappers scattered on top. The two adolescents were wearing baggy cargo pants, T-shirts and piercings that looked painful. On the basis of their age, he suspected they were attendees of her club.

“Blake!” his mother called, her salt-and-pepper hair sporting a pixie cut that flattered her lined face. “It’s Sunday. Put that stuff down and do something that involves relaxation, for once.”

His sister didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“He can’t, Mom. He’s incapable of relaxation.” Nikki, her black hair pulled into a ponytail, her gray eyes with a loaded look aimed in his direction, added an overly sweet smile to her barbs. “You know, most men spend their Sundays playing golf or watching football with a beer and a bucket of chicken wings.”

Inwardly he braced for the conflict. Keeping his cool as Nikki needled him required Herculean effort.

“And most first-year law students spend their summers interning at a firm to gain work experience,” he said drily. “Not encased in plaster from hip to toe from a zip-line accident.”

A silly prank that had almost gotten her killed. Receiving the call from the E.R. about Nikki’s accident had shaved several years off his life. He’d lived in dread of such a day, but had always suspected it would be due to a car accident. Nikki had spent her childhood champing at the bit, trying to grow up too fast. Now she drove too fast.

She lived too fast.

Leaving work and heading upstate to the hospital had put a massive strain on his workweek. But nothing compared to the gut-clenching memory of his little sister, pale and laid up in a hospital room with a concussion and a complicated fracture. And the fear of losing her, combined with the horrific memories of his father’s accident, had scared him senseless. According to the doctor, she was lucky she hadn’t been killed.

And it was good to know her mouth hadn’t been injured in the process, either.

Nikki addressed their mother. “I told you he’d sneak in another jab about my mishap.” She turned her attention back to Blake, narrowing her eyes. “You’re still angry about the Times Square incident, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said. “I’ve moved on from your participation in a prank that involved a near brush with the police.” Another incident that had required his efforts to smooth out—an incident that had been, as usual, dismissed as a kids-will-be-kids moment by his mother. “The next time you might actually get charged with something, which wouldn’t bode well for your future as a lawyer, by the way,” he finished drily.

The frown on his sister’s face was small, but heartfelt. “Maybe you worry too much.”

Blake remembered saying exactly those words to his father, and his gut churned.

Their gazes locked, and he went on in a low voice. “Maybe you don’t worry enough.”

After several tense seconds, filled with the sound of the waterfall and five pairs of female eyes on him, his mother reached over and patted Nikki on the hand.

“Take it easy on your brother, Nikki,” his mother said lightly. “I suspect he just hasn’t gotten any lately.”

Three pairs of lids stretched wide at the remark, and he ignored the small, barking cough of surprise from Jax. The Bennington siblings didn’t bat an eye. His mother didn’t believe in a comment being too inappropriate to share. And while he was used to her casual attitude toward…hell, toward everything, it hardly set a good example for the youth among them.

“Why don’t you ask that pretty lawyer out? You know, the one you were talking to at the courthouse?” Nikki said, surprising him with her words. When had Nikki seen Sara? “You two could have the perfect marriage, wear perfect matching suits and have two-point-five children together.” She lifted an eyebrow wryly. “The perfect number, of course.

Blake was intensely aware of Jax’s observant gaze, taking in the family interactions. Nikki and his mother had always been a dangerous combination, just as his father had warned. The two of them with Jax by their side might just do in Blake completely. And the fact that the merry band of estrogen appeared to be training new teenage recruits was alarming.

Taking on his family with an interested audience wasn’t prudent. And Blake was intelligent enough to know when to cut his losses.

“Mom,” he said evenly, “I’d appreciate it if you would refrain from making my social life a public discussion. And, Nikki…” He turned his attention to his sister. “I have enough on my hands with the family I’ve got.”

And after a last glance at Jax, he turned and headed for the dock, grateful his boat, at least, was devoid of difficult women. But the question was, how long would the femalefree moment last?