“Next.” Richard motioned to the person at the front of the line.
As the little girl left, she shouted, “Team Jackie!”
He could tell by the roll of Jaclyn’s eyes that she hated it. And loved it. And seemed to be oddly having the time of her life.
This wasn’t a pomp-and-circumstance series of poses for press releases. This was her, being acknowledged for exactly who she was. A crazy, strong woman who wasn’t about to let anyone fight her fights.
He tried pushing down this bizarre feeling bubbling up inside him. Pride was taking hold of him in the strangest way. He, too, was reveling in the day, on a high just from being the man by her side. Well, sort of.
“So,” the next lady in line asked, “how long have you been Jackie’s stylist?”
He pulled in a breath, pausing to consider his words. “Not long. Seems like I just started.”
He continued snapping shots, person after person, but by the end of the hour and the fifteenth fan, he could see Jaclyn’s luster ebbing. He grabbed her, making a short announcement to the crowd about another engagement, and they were off. He helped her through the gathering to her car, and they slowly rolled away.
“Well,” he said, “you certainly know how to work a room.”
From a distance, he’d seen Jaclyn’s many expressions over a lot of years. Mostly stoic. Sometimes with a hint of happiness. But not like this. Like she’d waited her whole life to be accepted just as she was, and the result left her positively glowing.
“I’ve never done that before. Usually, I keep to the script in front of shareholders. I never want to give anyone a sound bite they could use against me.”
“So, you’ve been putting up walls for quite a while.” Explains why they’re so hard to tear down. “Well, you’ve got a following.” When she smiled and gave him a flattered glance, he said, “No. Not me.”
An annoyed darted glare followed, and he laughed.
“I mean, not just me.”
As they rolled up to a red light, he handed her his phone so she could quickly flip through several #TeamJackie images he’d already found online. Her wince changed to a beam, until honks blared from the cars behind her. She shoved the phone back to him and pressed the gas, opening her window briefly to wave her apology.
“You seem to hate being called Jackie.”
She shrugged. “I did, but today . . . I don’t.”
He took her hand from the wheel, pressed it to his lips for a light kiss, and kept it in his hand as he laid it on his leg.
She patted his leg. Sweetly. Innocently. Until her fingers started stroking his thigh, moving steadily higher with each pass.
“Jaclyn?”
“Yes, Richard?” Her reply was less of a question and more of an assurance.
She was leading him into uncharted territory, one tantalizing stroke at a time. The seductive curve of her lips was the same he’d seen that night at the bar. A smile that meant she was taking the reins for this round of flirting.
His eyes shut, and he eased back into the molded seat. Her fingers glided back and forth across his rock-hard relationship material.
When the smoothness of the drive took a bumpier turn, he looked up to find Jaclyn off-roading into an isolated field of bluebonnets, dancing here and there under the welcoming shade of trees. Her hand lifted from his lap to shift the vehicle into park.
She unlocked the doors and got out, leading the way across a sea of wildflowers. As he followed, she jogged ahead, losing him in the seclusion of a private but natural retreat, filled with pockets of feathery pampas grass and the gentle sound of a babbling brook.
Richard meandered about, his pulse ratcheting up to a full-blown thrill. He found himself both the hunter and the hunted, relishing the riveting game of hide-and-seek.
A light breeze rustled the leaves, but Richard focused. Centered himself. Closed his eyes and listened. He readied his body with a grin as he awaited her approach. Her stealthy steps weren’t soft enough. His heart quickened its beats, pounding harder.
As her kick landed on his ripped abs, he flinched back and grabbed her leg. He swung her with an upsurge of strength and control, pinning her body gently against the trunk of a large tree.
“Still trying to surprise me with your kick?” He scoffed, reeling from the delightful feel of his body against hers.
“Surprise you, yes. But the kick was just a decoy.”
She kissed him, smiling with pleasure as heat spread through him. Her hands skimmed down his fitted shirt to finish the job started in the car. Quick to unwrap her present, she pried open his pants.
The sweep of her tongue across his lips stunned him and gave him pause. Mr. Always Down for a Good Time found himself in a conundrum.
Would a sweet surrender further his plan? Or would unleashing his beast give her the green light to pull the plug? Her sexy little fingers might be stirring things up just to set it and forget it.
And then there was his own insatiable appetite for control.
Though he’d always enjoyed the touch of a woman peeling his clothes off him, remaining a not-so-innocent bystander wasn’t exactly his style. No matter how invasively Margot’s advice kept intruding, he’d either plunge into Jaclyn’s deep end as himself, or not at all.
Belt undone and jeans unzipped, he cursed his badgering brain. He couldn’t shut it off, and it was damned intent on countering the demands of his oh-so-ready cock.
“Hang on.” He grabbed Jaclyn’s hands and snared her gaze.
“I was trying to,” she said in a teasing tone, but the shift in his demeanor gave her pause, and a grimace took the place of her smile.
With a serious scowl, he held her hands in place. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Looking dismayed, she recoiled. “Is that what you think? That I’d strip you down to clear a debt? Or my conscience? Rest assured, I prefer making my payments with good old-fashioned cash.”
“Then what are we doing here?” Still keeping her hands in his, he began caressing them.
“I like playing with you,” she said lightly. “Taking a litmus test of your level of gayness today. Still very gay?”
A dark chuckle escaped him. “Hey, no matter how you continue to typecast me, I’m straight as a laser beam, baby. But that’s not the problem.”
The question in her eyes grew as he studied her.
“You see, I’m not interested in playing with you at all, Jaclyn. So if you’re striking a match just to watch it burn out, you’re wasting your time. And mine.”
Her hands relaxed, ready to drop away, but couldn’t escape his hold. Then he moved his hot palm to the small of her back and pulled her soft curves to the tight muscles of his torso. His breath quickened as he delayed the inevitable kiss.
“It’s one thing to start a fire,” he said, his voice low and deep. “Another to contain the heat. This will be one flame you can’t control.”
His mouth fell on hers, hungry and savoring every eager taste. He worked her lips until her breaths were punctuated with light whimpers. His sweeping tongue coaxed hers, swirling in a frenzy of deep and delicious foreplay. Losing himself in the moment almost as much as she was, he forced himself to pull back.
“Are you ready to give in?” he whispered.
She stayed quietly against him. Breathing. Thinking. So much so, he swore he could see the wheels turning behind those warm brown eyes. His finger traced down her cheek and across her plump lower lip.