Not Strictly Business!. Susan MalleryЧитать онлайн книгу.
been forced to get rid of it for practically nothing. Still, it had been worth it, he thought, remembering how happy she’d been about the dogs.
She leaned close. “Doesn’t taking the moral high ground ease some of the financial sting?”
“Not as much as you’d think,” he said, finding his gaze riveted on her mouth.
Dumb idea, he told himself. On a scale of one to ten, ten being somewhere between stupid and idiotic, this was a twelve.
But there was something about the way she smiled and the light in her eyes. Something that spoke of promise and desire.
Hadn’t he always been an idiot where she was concerned?
He shifted toward her and lightly touched her cheek with his fingers. He thought that if he gave her plenty of warning, she would have time to bolt before he kissed her.
But she didn’t. Instead she parted her lips slightly and drew in a quick breath.
He took that as a yes and kissed her.
He moved slowly, only touching her mouth with the lightest of brushes. He kept his hands to himself, or at least didn’t do more than rest one on her shoulder and the other on her arm. He waited for her to kiss back.
And waited. One heartbeat. Two. Then slowly, almost tentatively, her lips moved on his. She pressed a little harder, then touched his bottom lip with the very tip of her tongue.
It was as if she’d just taken a blowtorch to his bloodstream. Heat and need exploded and he was instantly hard. He’d heard that it took longer for a man to get aroused as he got older. Apparently he hadn’t crossed that threshold yet.
But as much as he wanted to pull her close, to rub his hands all over her until she was wet and weak and begging him to take her, as much as he wanted to take off her clothes and run his tongue over every inch of her, he did nothing. He sat there letting her take control of their kiss. Let her set the pace.
When she touched the tip of her tongue to his lip again, he tilted his head and parted for her. She slipped into his mouth and traced the inside of his lower lip.
Everything got hotter, harder and more intense. The need to take control, to claim her, threatened to overwhelm him, but he was determined not to screw up again. She’d made it clear that he pushed all her buttons, so it made sense to go slowly.
But when she circled his tongue with hers and sighed, it took every bit of self-control he had not to reach for her. Instead he mentally ground his teeth in frustration. He kissed her back, but slowly, without letting her know how deep the passion flowed. And when she withdrew slightly, he straightened, as if he were unaffected by what they’d just done.
She ducked her head and smiled. “That was nice.”
“Yes, it was.”
She glanced at him from under her lashes. “I’m a complete adult and I accept responsibility for what just happened.”
Was that her way of saying she wasn’t going to back off and run this time?
“And?” he asked, knowing there had to be a punch line.
“No and. Just that. And me saying thanks for being patient.”
“My pleasure.” Although pleasure didn’t exactly describe his painful state of arousal. He reached for another chicken wing and bit into it. In time, the need would fade to a manageable level. His erection would cease to throb with each beat of his heart and the temperature in his body would slowly cool. But until then, life was hell.
“You’re going to have to go to a few Cubs games when the season starts,” he said.
She laughed. “You’re deliberately changing the subject.”
“You noticed.”
She smiled. “This is in an effort to erase the tension here and keep me from feeling awkward.”
“Something like that.” Some of his motivation was selfish. Thinking about baseball was a time-honored way to keep from thinking about sex.
Her smiled widened. “Okay. Then tell me everything you know about the Cubs.”
“At least the news isn’t getting worse,” David said.
“Not exactly the sign of forward progress I would like,” Jack said. “But it beats the hell out of our string of bad news. You’ve been working hard to get us favorable play in the press.”
“It’s my job.”
Jack leaned back on the sofa in his uncle’s office. “Helen came to see me last week. She wanted to talk about how I was doing. It was almost as if …”
David raised his eyebrows but didn’t speak.
Jack shook his head. “It was almost as if she was worried about me.”
“Is that impossible to believe?”
“Yes. Why would she care?”
“Why wouldn’t she? You don’t know anything about Helen.”
“Do you?”
“Not really. George and I haven’t been exactly tight these past few years. But I’ve spoken with her, spent a few dinners with her. She seems reasonable and intelligent. You might want to take the time to get to know her.”
“That’s what Samantha says. She’s a serious advocate.”
David smiled.
Jack narrowed his gaze. “What?”
His uncle’s smile turned into a grin. “There’s something about the way you say her name. So things are progressing.”
“No and no. We’re getting along. She works for me. That’s it.”
“Like I believe that.”
“It’s true. She is just getting over a divorce. I’m not interested in getting involved in that process.”
“Have you considered the fact that you already are?”
Was he? Jack thought about the weekend, when he and Samantha had spent so much time together. Hearing about her past and her marriage made a lot of things more clear to him. But that didn’t mean he was interested in her. Not in any way but sexually.
“I’m not involved,” he told David.
His uncle nodded. “Keep telling yourself that. Eventually it will be true.”
Chapter Eight
The company had gone all out for the advertisers’ party. As this was the first one Samantha had attended, she didn’t know if the stunning decorations, incredible view and fabulous food were normal or if this party was a little bit extra-special in an effort to soothe their accounts.
Either way, she was excited to be there and felt just like Cinderella at the ball. For once, she’d left her loose and comfy clothes behind and had instead worn a form-fitting strapless gown in dark apple-green.
The shimmering fabric very nearly matched the color of her eyes. She’d gone simple in the jewelry department, wearing vintage paste earrings that looked like amazing diamonds. The antique settings made them look like the genuine article. Last, she’d spent nearly two hours on her hair, curling it on big rollers and then drying it. But the effort had been worth it. Her normally tight, natural curls were now loose and sexy. She’d pinned up the sides and left the back to cascade over her shoulder blades.
She felt good and knew she looked her best. The question was had she done enough to dazzle Jack?
“Not that I care,” she murmured as she made her way to the bar for the glass of white wine she would hold on to for most of the evening. She refused to define herself by a man.
Not