about physical retrieval?’
‘Of what?’
‘Anything. Do your homework when it comes to who wants what and why. Pick and choose your jobs carefully. You call the shots.’
He stared at her for a good long while. ‘Maybe.’
‘It’d suit your lifestyle.’
‘And what lifestyle is that?’
‘Plenty of action, plenty of travel. No time to get bored because every job would be different.’
‘And if I wanted to forgo the travel and stick a little closer to home?’
‘Is that what you want?’
He’d surprised her. Again. But then, when had he ever not?
‘Yeah. My gut says it’s time to settle down. Choose a place and make it home.’
‘And what does your gut say about you flying in to have takeaway dinner with a woman who can’t even keep a meal in her house?’
‘My gut says the food’s good and yours is the company I want.’ His voice had gone all raspy. ‘I wanted to see you, Ro. Touch base. Something like that.’
She was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
‘Touch base or just touch? Are you having trouble sleeping again?’ Maybe that was why he was here. Maybe he needed the kind of release she’d given him at the apartment.
‘I’m sleeping well enough.’ His voice had husked out. ‘I don’t need you to tie me up.’
‘Really not a problem if you did.’ She put it out there. ‘I enjoyed it.’
Hell, she’d loved it.
He shrugged again—only this time it was an invitation if ever she’d seen one.
‘Not this time.’ His eyes had gone dark. ‘Stop trying to give me what you think I came here for, Ro. Stop trying to fix me as if I’m broken. Nor is it your job to direct me towards a solution. Otherwise I’m going to start thinking you’re still at work.’
‘How am I directing you?’ she asked indignantly. ‘I’ve done no directing at all tonight! ‘
‘No? Then why is the focus all on me and my problems? On what I might need and how I might arrange my life? I didn’t bring those topics up, Ro. You did. You’re still looking at me as if I’m one of your problems to be solved.’
‘No.’ Was he right? Was she still in work mode? ‘I—Maybe I—’
‘Yes?’ he enquired silkily.
Well, hell. Rowan sat back in her chair and stared at him. Had she still been in work mode? Half of her trying to figure out what he needed so that she could provide support? The other half assuming that he couldn’t possibly be there simply because he’d wanted her company. Just her company—nothing more.
‘I’m interested in you and I make no apology for some of my questions,’ she offered finally. ‘How else will I know what’s going on in your life if I don’t ask? But maybe I do need to ease out of work mode a little more—stop trying to offer up solutions and just … relax now that I’m home. It’ll happen. The relaxation part. Any minute now. I’m almost sure of it.’
‘Uh-huh?’ He loaded up his fork with potato. ‘Eat your dinner, Rowan. And then we’ll set about seeing what it takes to get you to unwind.’
Rowan filled her mouth with food—it seemed like the best course of action—and at some point during the meal Jared’s leg kicked into hers and stayed there.
Not unwinding.
He told her about Lena and Ruby ganging up on him and insisting that mustard was not an appropriate colour for the interior of a yacht. He made her laugh, but he looked at her with an intensity that made it impossible to relax. How was a person supposed to relax into that?
‘Would you like ice cream now?’ she asked when they’d cleared their plates. ‘I’ll just get—’
‘No, you won’t. Stay.’ He eyed her sternly and took the plates to the dishwasher. ‘Do you even want ice cream after that? Or is it just something else to offer your guest?’
‘I sometimes have ice cream after dinner.’
‘Do you want some tonight?’
She was tempted to prove him wrong and say yes—but she’d be lying. She didn’t have to stay sitting at the table like a lump, though. It was her kitchen. The least she could do was help tidy it.
But he blocked her way and there was pure challenge in his eyes when he murmured, ‘It’s done, Rowan, and it really doesn’t need any final check-up.’
‘You think I’m a control freak?’
‘I think we’re about to find out. Would you like me to tell you what kind of sex I’d like tonight?’
‘Um …’ Could be a test. ‘Your call.’
‘Good answer.’ He was advancing on her, backing her against the wall, boxing her in with his arms either side of her and his body heat licking at her senses. ‘If you want me to leave, tell me now.’
The best answer to that was silence.
‘I want to make you forget your own name tonight,’ he murmured. ‘You good with that?’
‘Well, you can try. Are you waiting for permission?’
Her tone would probably have been a lot more challenging had he not been dragging his lips over her neck at the time. Because all she could manage as his tongue got in on the act was a whimper.
By the time he got around to kissing her lips she had her eyes closed and her hands palms to the wall for fear of burying them in his hair and directing him where she wanted him to go. And then he coaxed her shirt up over her head, and when her arms fell they fell to his shoulders.
He didn’t need any direction when it came to getting his shirt off, or her trousers either. No direction at all as he picked her up as if she weighed next to nothing, his hands on her buttocks, his strong fingers curling under and around to tease at the edges of her panties.
She was so wet for him. The minute he touched her he would know, if he didn’t already, that all he had to do was put his hands on her and she was halfway to gone.
And then his fingers skated across the slick she was making for him, and he growled and slammed her back into the wall, coaxing her legs to open around him—and, oh, that worked for her. She spread her legs wider, rocking up into that teasing hardness, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she would like more of that.
‘Please …’ she whispered into his mouth as she wound her arms around his neck and held on.
Denim
