“How are you feeling today—other than sleepy, of course?” He curves his lip up into that breathtaking smile of his, and I can’t help the way my knees tremble.
“I’m fine, thanks. I actually had a good night’s sleep. You?”
“Good, thanks, but I must admit I’m looking forward to taking some time off. Work has been more than a little hectic lately. Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Are you going out tonight?”
I find his question intriguing, and I can’t help but wonder why he is suddenly so concerned with what I’m doing.
“Well, Jessie did mention getting together for a few drinks after work today. You know what she’s like—a lot of work and even more play,” I reply. My heart skips a beat at the sound of his hearty laughter.
“Yes, she does like to drink, doesn’t she? I thought I would join you … if you don’t mind? Are there a few of you going?”
Dumbstruck, I stare at him. To say that his question has caught me off guard would be a massive understatement. As it is, his appearance alone rarely fails to elicit my undivided attention for at least a moment or two.
Again, in my defense, he really does have the most magnificent physique. He is six feet and four inches of male perfection. He maintains it by working out in his home gym a lot, which is nothing less than sheer torture. I’ve run into him right after his workouts numerous times, and the effect he has on me has yet to lessen one iota. His chest heaves with each deep, powerful breath as sweat drips down his flawless skin and highlights muscles which are so taut I desperately want to squeeze them.
Why does he have to be so damn godlike?
“Of course you can,” I finally reply, “and yes, I think at least a few of us will be there.”
Jake smirks, briefly looking my way. “That’s why I want to come. I think Tony has his eye on you. I want to make sure he behaves himself after he’s had a few beers.”
I think my jaw just dropped to the floor.
He notices my reaction, and his eyes widen a little. “Sorry. Just doing the ‘protective father’ thing.”
Oh, great! Can the earth just open up and swallow me now?
He’s only eleven years older than I am. That hardly makes him a father-figure.
“I think you’ll find that in all the ways that matter, we’re basically the same age.”
Jake smirks again, causing a pulsing sensation like no other to surface between my legs. “What gives you that idea?”
I shrug, trying my best to act as casually as possible. “Well, neither of us is a teenager anymore. We are both adults. Therefore, we are equally mature—in theory, anyway. Now, if we were teenagers, you would have a point about our ages … because in that case, I would actually be older than you, since everyone knows that women mature faster than men.”
Jake quirks one eyebrow and gives me an amused smile. “Oh, yeah?”
I’m seriously starting to think I’m losing my mind. As my lips slightly part, I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Yeah,” I manage, trying my hardest not to let him see just how much his presence is affecting me. It’s no use, though. As I shift in my seat, my skirt rises a little higher, exposing more of my legs to him than I would have preferred. It’s almost as if Jake possesses some magical power in his gaze which causes women’s clothes to begin falling off at a glance. Jake notices—of course—which is made worse by the fact that my legs aren’t exactly short. My mother says they go on for miles. For me, they are the equivalent of the proverbial elephant in the room.
That said, when I witness the slight widening of his eyes and the way his grip on the steering wheel tightens once again, I can’t help but feel a thrill at the knowledge that I’ve just had some kind of effect on him. It is a stupid, juvenile reaction, and it’s one which quickly leaves my mind as silence envelopes us for the rest of the drive.
Jake is normally all business with me, so I knew our moment wouldn’t last. We often have several moments of banter, but they usually stop as quickly as they start. Jake is definitely too serious and set in his ways for a thirty-three-year-old.
With all thoughts of Jake being pushed to the back of my mind, we get to work with a minute to spare. I say a quick, “See you later,” and rush into the main office. I spy Jessie straight away, sitting at her desk with a big, devilish grin on her face. I also notice a nice cup of steaming hot coffee on my desk.
“Ah, thanks, Jessie,” I say with real appreciation. “You’re a lifesaver.” I plonk my bag down on my desk and take my seat. “So what did you do last night?” I ask her. “Or, shall I ask, whom did you do?”
“Shhh,” she smirks. “You’ll give me a bad name. I’m not that bad.” She sits silently for a moment while I begin to organize myself for the day ahead. “Well, he’s a lawyer, and he certainly knows his way around a room … if you know what I mean.”
“I knew it!” I shout after a gasp. “You brazen hussy, you. Are you going to see him again?”
She beams back at me. “Yes. Tomorrow night. He’s taking me out to dinner.”
I’m grinning from ear to ear for her. “Wow, you must really like him if you’re letting him take you to dinner. So tell me all about him. What’s his name?”
She pauses for a moment. I get the impression she’s debating whether or not to tell me. Eventually, she speaks. “It’s Jerry Maguire.”
I spit my coffee out and frantically grab some tissues off my desk to wipe my mouth. “Seriously? You must be kidding me, right?” I manage to say without choking to death.
She sighs, looking kind of embarrassed. “I’m not kidding. His name is actually Jerry Maguire.”
I gasp again. “My goodness, he must get a lot of ribbing about that from the people at his law firm.”
Jessie taps the end of her pencil on her lips. “Yeah, he does actually. And the worst part about it is he actually looks a little bit like Tom Cruise.”
I think I might have a heart attack. It’s way too early in the morning for this.
“I must meet him, Jessie. This is something I have to see!”
She gives me that same devilish grin again as she sweeps her auburn locks away from her perfectly rounded face. “We’ll see. Let me get through dinner first and see if he’s worth a third date.” She pauses a moment, regarding me. “Speaking of which, there has been very little action in that department as far as you’re concerned, young lady. Why aren’t you putting yourself out there, girl? I know Tony would appreciate it. Actually, the majority of the police station—unmarried or otherwise—would appreciate it if you put out for once.”
“Jessie! You can’t say things like that. Besides, that’s not even true,” I reply, blushing.
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “You would have to either be blind or stupid to believe that, and I happen to know you aren’t stupid. Have you even looked at yourself in the mirror recently? It makes me want to vomit, actually. I totally hate you and your British accent.”
I feel stunned by her confession, but she’s smiling at me, seemingly oblivious. I can’t believe that a woman as beautiful as Jessie could possibly feel this way about me—even if we do look very different from each other. She has auburn hair and brown eyes; I have blonde hair and blue eyes. Jessie is petite; I’m five-foot-eight with curves. As for my British accent, it stems from the fact that I was born and raised in London until the age of eleven. Then, my mum met and married an American accountant. Before we ended up in Virginia, we’d moved to New Jersey, following that accountant. Just the thought of those early days sends shivers down my spine and makes my stomach twist with nausea.