like and some you don’t. It’ll go easier on you if you’re prepared to handle the rough ones.”
Jack stared at her for a long moment, feeling that unwelcome sense of protectiveness swell inside him again. He realized he’d just delivered a lecture. Swearing, he shook his head. “Hey, I’m not your father. Do what you want.” He gave a short laugh. “Maybe I should have left you alone with Curly and Bo.”
“No,” she said and looked away. “I think I could have gotten out of that situation, but it was getting uncomfortable. I appreciate you—helping me.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “So who’s gonna help you when I make you uncomfortable?”
She gave a soft smile. “Oh, Jack. You’ve given yourself away. You’re a gentleman.”
He shook his head. “No one has ever accused me of that before, so I wouldn’t count on it.”
She just continued to smile, which irritated the hell out of him. “Come on,” he muttered. “You want to go to another bar?”
She shook her head. “Can we go in a few shops? I realize ‘shop’ is a four-letter word for most men—”
“I can handle it,” he said. “If I get lucky, I can watch you get a tattoo in a special place.”
“Not tonight,” she retorted and wandered into a tacky beach shop filled with T-shirts plastered with suggestions for sexual experimentation.
Laughing at her rounded eyes and red cheeks after she’d read a few, Jack followed her as she hot-footed it out of the shop. “Didn’t see anything you like?”
“No, thank you,” she said, carefully studying the window display of the next shop before peeking inside the door.
“It’s safe,” he said, unable to keep a hint of mockery from his voice.
Rolling her eyes at him, she walked inside and looked at the jewelry. Jack had found the previous store much more amusing, so after five minutes, he excused himself and went to the bar across the street where he could catch more of the ballgame. After half an inning, he strolled back to the shop, amazed to find her still studying the jewelry.
“You’re still here? You could have gotten a dozen piercings by now,” he said.
She bit her lip. “I’m just looking. It’s the first time I’ve shopped for jewelry without considering what Will would think.”
Her revelation made a knot form in his gut. Why? He couldn’t say. “What do you like?”
“I’ve always wanted an anklet, but I’m not sure I would wear it.”
He shrugged. “It’s not the Hope Diamond. Get it, try it. If you don’t like it, it’s no big deal.”
“I don’t know.”
Her hesitation tugged at something inside him. “Which are your top three favorites?”
“Um, that one,” she said, pointing to a sterling silver chain with tiny beads. “The one with the clam shells and the one with the daisies.”
“Okay,” he said and nodded toward the store clerk. “I’d like some anklets.”
“What?” Amelia stared at him. “You can’t get these for me.”
“Yes, I can. It’s not as if it they’ll break the bank,” he said.
“But—but—”
“Chill out, Magnolia. It’s not an engagement ring. This is faster, that’s all. At the rate it’s taking you to decide, we won’t get out of here until sundown tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll just take the one with daisies,” she said to the clerk.
“We’ll take all three,” Jack corrected and handed the clerk several bills. “You sure you don’t want to get that tattoo tonight? I can supervise.”
“I’m not getting a tattoo,” she said. “And I’m not comfortable with you buying these. It’s not appropriate for a woman to accept jewelry from a man she hardly knows.”
It took him a few seconds, but then he got the reason for her discomfort. She was afraid he was bartering anklets for sex with her. “Don’t you think a night of unbridled sex with you is worth more than forty-five bucks?” he asked in a low voice.
She sucked in a quick, shocked breath.
“I’m counting on it,” he said.
“I never said I was having sex with you,” she whispered.
Looking into her blue eyes and taking in the sight of her parted candy-apple lips, he made a decision. He was going to have Magnolia. Sometime, somehow and every way he could imagine. “But you will,” he said, because in this circumstance he considered it fair to warn her of his intentions.
“That’s very arrogant,” she said.
“Confident. There’s a big difference,” he told her, accepting the bag and pocketing his change. “Thanks,” he said to the cashier and turned back to Amelia. “You’ll understand it after you get to know me better.”
“What if I decide I don’t want to get to know you better?” she asked as they left the shop.
He stopped and met her gaze. “Are you saying you don’t?”
She opened her mouth and closed it, frowning. “Just because I find you interesting doesn’t mean I’m going to bed with you.”
“You will,” he said. “But don’t worry. Tonight’s not the night.”
DURING THE RETURN DRIVE to the Bellagio estate, Amelia’s mind wouldn’t stop whirling. She had hoped the rush of open air would clear her head and reduce Jack’s impact on her, but she couldn’t stop looking at his hands, and every once in a while when she inhaled, she caught a hint of his aftershave.
He was too cynical and too sure of himself. If that was all she knew of him, she could easily dismiss him, but the way he challenged her alternately bothered her and fascinated her. How could he be so wrong and so right at the same time?
“You’re quiet,” he said.
“I’m enjoying the ride.”
“Pissed,” he concluded, but didn’t appear overly concerned.
“I’m not pissed,” she corrected. “I’m uncomfortable.”
“Afraid of what I’m going to do? Or what you’re going to do?”
A sexy image of his hands sliding over her blew through her brain. She closed her eyes and shook off the picture. “Neither.” She leaned forward and turned on the CD player.
“Stones to the rescue,” he said when Mick Jagger’s voice blared out the speakers.
But
