one that was funny and shocking but not too sordid. ‘Threesomes, foursomes, wife-swaps. Drugs and alcohol. You name it, I’ve seen it or heard about it. But the strangest? I was once on tour with a band and the lead singer developed an explosive habit.’
‘What do you mean? Drugs?’
‘No. He blew up—literally detonated—something in every venue. Toilets, drum-kits, seats. He liked the poeticism of shards, apparently.’ Jack shook his head. ‘Okay, yes. Probably drugs.’
‘Really? Blowing things up? Bizarre.’
‘Win?’
‘I don’t know; I’m thinking. I must have something to beat that. Foursomes? Really? I don’t even want to know how that works out.’ Finally she came to a halt outside a row of neat terraced houses with window boxes that had brightly coloured plants trailing over them. A vivid splash in an otherwise unimaginative backdrop. Kind of like her.
She rooted in her satchel, tutted. Dropped it to the ground and spilled the contents out, handing bits of paper, a can opener, lipgloss to him as she searched, her fist getting lost amongst tissues and things he barely even recognised and surely should not be in a woman’s bag. Was that a spanner? Eventually she pulled out a bunch of keys. ‘Got them! Right. This is me. Number twelve. First floor. It’s not much but it’s home.’
These were renovated apartments in a decentish part of town. No wonder she was struggling to find the rent. ‘You live here on your own?’
‘Yep. It was always meant to be a work-from-home kind of thing with... Never mind.’ Her shoulders hitched.
‘Are you talking about paring knife man?’ And why the hell he’d even asked and burst the first pleasant bubble of conversation they’d managed all evening, he didn’t know. It was none of his business and in his haphazard personal life he always—always—stayed away from backstory. Unlike in his films, where he liked the present to be filled with regret and melodrama and lost chances. People searching for the whole happy-ever-after lie that littered cheap novels and rom-com films. The pursuit of all that filled his subjects with a hope that was rarely realised. Hell, it made addictive TV. Won awards.
She bit her bottom lip, then flashed him another of her smiles. This one was unconvincing. ‘Okay, well, thanks for walking me back. I’ll be fine from here. Have a safe walk home.’
‘He broke your heart?’ She’d already changed the subject but he wouldn’t let her get away with it.
Cassie sighed as she shoved everything back into the Tardis-like bag. She blinked away a wisp of bitterness or sadness or just plain hurt and hid behind that enduring mask of cheerfulness. ‘Absolutely not. He broke my bank balance and that’s a whole bigger sin in my book. I’m over it and, make no mistake, I’m never going there again.’
He still wasn’t convinced. ‘You sure about that? What about the gooey-eyed romance thing? The wedding catering? Isn’t it your job to believe in all of that?’
‘For someone else, sure. My sister. Your sister. Everyone else. But not this sister.’ Her finger pointed to her chest and he had no doubt that she believed it. Somewhere down the line she’d change her mind, but for now? He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
The scent of her whirled around his head; the passionate tone to her voice, the fighting back, her chaos even, stoked something deep in him. The determined look in her eyes did nothing to dampen the fizz of something electric whizzing round his veins; if anything, it just made it stronger.
With a shock he realised he wanted to crush her against the wall and kiss her.
Turning to go up the steps, she waved. ‘So call me when you’ve spoken to Lizzie and we’ll sort out the menus.’
Like hell he was going to let her go that easily. ‘And so now you’re what? A nun? You don’t do this ever?’
‘Do what?’ She paused.
‘I want to claim my winner’s prize.’ Where in hell did that come from? He didn’t know or care. The need to feel her mouth against his swelled inside him.
‘What? We never agreed on a prize.’ But the heat in her too-blue eyes told him she was just as interested as he was. If not for that he’d have walked right away. If not for that? And the fact she was a beautiful woman. And he was drawn to her in a way he hadn’t been drawn to any woman in a long time. If ever. Which was why he should have taken her lead and walked away too. Put that sexy sway to the back of his mind, those pink lips, those dark navy eyes. The nagging feeling in his head that blared alarm bells.
Go home.
He made it up the first couple of steps towards her. At her frown he stopped short. Her mouth was inches away.
All he had to do was reach out.
* * *
‘Jack.’ It was meant to be a warning. A definitive no. But it sounded like a whimper. Worse, it sounded like an invitation. And maybe it was. Cassie didn’t know. Didn’t know anything really except that this man had stirred something in her that had long been dormant. Which was equal parts thrilling and scary. Actually, it was scary as hell.
Before she could breathe again Jack was in front of her, all six feet plus of impressiveness, his scent of heat and man filling her nostrils. His hard body...there. The open-necked shirt revealing just a little of a tanned chest that she suddenly wanted to touch, his smile finally now almost blossoming.
The street seemed to fade out a little as her vision narrowed to just him. His hand was on her cheek, the lightness of his touch making her heart stutter. The intensity in his eyes causing her abdomen to contract with a need she hadn’t expected.
This was utter madness. A choc chip short of a cookie. How could she want to slap him and kiss him at the same time? He was pompous and a giant pain in the ass yet she wanted to kiss him.
No. No. No.
Yes.
No. This couldn’t be happening. But the more he looked at her, the more intense this urge to taste him grew.
‘What’s this?’ His hand had moved across her cheek. She should have walked away, but that glittering in his eyes made her legs refuse to move.
She found her voice, but it wasn’t her usual one. This was filled with desire, reedy, coarse. Husky. And speaking was difficult through a throat so dry and a mouth so wet. She ran a finger across her face and looked at the sparkles on her fingertips. ‘It’s gold dusting from the fairy castle. Wait, I’ll just wipe it off. I can’t believe I’ve been wearing it all evening and you didn’t mention it.’
‘Fairy dust? I like it. Let’s just say for once I do believe in fairies. Even if they are a little on the manic side. And possibly crazy. And definitely disorganised.’ His fingers closed around her hand and he pulled it away from her face. Then he stroked the glitter on her cheek.
Blood pounded in her ears. She opened her mouth to speak but he shook his head, his finger touching her lips and stoking that need with an extra helping of urgency. His delicious dark voice whispered along her neckline, ‘I want to claim my prize and also win a bet with myself.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘That
