Girl Gear 4: Striptease (15 page)

“A bed? Isn’t that rather pedestrian?”

“This is my adventure, buster.” She slapped him on the ass. “Now, move it. And lose that thing on
your head. Making love to a droid is taking this beyond kinky and into obscene.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes doing that dark flashing thing that made it so very hard for her to breathe. She didn’t know if he was pondering the kinky comment or the obscene.

So it surprised her when the corner of his mouth finally crooked into a grin and he said, “Making love, huh?”

But she didn’t have time to form a response because he activated the mike, commanded, “Zoom right one,” and then jerked off the headset and nearly dragged her to the bed.

What was she supposed to say? She’d stopped fooling herself the minute he’d walked up naked behind her. This wasn’t solely about sex any longer. Not for her. Emotionally, she hadn’t yet uttered the
L
word. But physically this was no longer about getting off. It was all about giving back. And, yes, about giving up control.

He tumbled her onto sheets of soft cotton, sheets that were as warm on her back as the heat of his body was, covering her front. She didn’t even wait for more foreplay, but reached down between his legs and took his cock in her hand.

She guided him to her sex and surged upward, taking him inside with a cry of delight. Her hands on his back felt his shudder as he struggled to hold himself still.

She didn’t want still; she didn’t want to wait. She wanted to drive him over the edge before he had the chance to calm down. With her fingertips gouging the muscles of his backside, she pulled him close, refusing
to release him when he hissed out a plea for her to stop.

“No,” she said. “This is my adventure.” And what she wanted more than anything right now was to kiss him.

And so she did. She moved her heels to his buttocks, moved her hands to his head. His eyes widened marginally before she pulled him down for her kiss.

He tasted like sorrow and secrets. Like a man who rarely kissed, who wasn’t sure he was wanted. His hesitance broke the very heart she’d sworn not to involve. But his hesitance was short-lived and the sadness banished the moment his tongue entered her mouth.

They battled there with lips and tongues, as if each sought in the other a missing part of self. Melanie had never known this sort of hunger because this need was all about Jacob.

He ate at her mouth, his hands cupping her head as he held her still and feasted. And then the kiss was over, ended when he pulled away and stared down at her from the sharp edge of control.

“God, Melanie.” He tightened every muscle he had. “No more. No more.”

She turned her head to the side and watched him come. She watched on the video cluster as he slammed into her body with an urgency she’d never sensed before. She watched his face, watched him screw his eyes tightly, watched the tendons and veins in his neck pop to sharp relief.

She watched his buttocks flex, his triceps stretch. And she watched his penis slide in and slide out.

That was when she knew she was done. She pushed up onto her elbows, braced her feet flat on the mattress
and thrust her pelvis upward rhythmically, repeatedly, meeting his every stroke, which matched the music’s hard beat.

She closed her eyes when she came. She tossed her head back and looked at nothing but the picture in her mind, the picture of Jacob the way she’d seen him that first time. Sensation took her apart and she fought the end of her orgasm and the sharp edge of tears.

She was afraid he was more than her lover. She was afraid he was her life.

M
ONDAY MORNING
, Melanie tried not to pace around her office while the production crew arranged the visitors’ chairs in front of her bookcase in preparation for her interview. Instead, she stood behind her desk and faced the windows, staring out at the Southwest Freeway’s frantic lunch hour traffic.

She’d worked out extra long and hard this morning, preceded by a half hour of meditation and followed by a steaming shower that went on until she’d depleted her hot water supply. The calming techniques had seemed to help at the time.

But then she’d arrived at work and walked into her office to find Jacob had already been there, and had left behind two stand-mounted cameras and the lighting equipment he’d need. The cocky early bird was preparing to get the worm—while the worm wanted nothing more than to squirm out of what was beginning to feel like a pressure cooker.

After watching herself make love with Jacob on camera and giving up so much of her heart in that incredible kiss, how was she supposed to sit here and expose even more while he looked on?

A voyeuristic participant in her undoing.

The very cause of the same.

The man had merely repeated her confession when she’d said the words
making love.
That was it. Nothing else. Nothing to indicate if he disagreed or agreed. No hint at all if he shared her assessment of what they’d done together there in his bed. Just a simple echo of her statement.

A statement that was a slip of the tongue she really shouldn’t have made.

She’d agreed to continue their affair for the sake of the fun and the sex. Not because she was hoping for more. She wasn’t hoping for more. Even though her attraction to him had finally come to make sense, even though what she was feeling went a lot deeper than she’d previously had the courage to admit, even though everything he was made him her perfect mate, she couldn’t mate.

Not when her focus had to be on gIRL-gEAR.

Not when his had to be through a lens.

Making love. What a big fat mouth she had. A roll of duct tape would’ve really come in handy. After she taped up her mouth, she could’ve tied him to the bed frame and completely had her way with him. As if she hadn’t done just that. She had. In spades. She’d made sweet and poignant love to him. God, but she was screwed.

“Miss Craine?”

She jumped, then turned, smiling at the host’s inquiry. “Yes?”

The other woman, Ann Russell, very much a Barbara Walters clone, chose the chair that offered her best personal camera angle, and patted the seat of the second as an invitation for Melanie to join her.

Melanie would have preferred to stay where she
was,
thank you very much,
but then Jacob walked into the room. Whether or not she was ready, the interview was on.

She had no more than a brief moment to look at him, to see that his expression was all-business, that he was intent on the job at hand. If he’d glanced her way, she hadn’t noticed. And, dammit, her feelings were hurt.

He looked incredible, once again clothed in his trademark working wardrobe of a high-fashion and fitted black T-shirt, today worn with baggy black linen pants.

She had to curl her fingers into her palms to keep herself from reaching out and grabbing his butt, or from running her fingers through his hair, which, until Saturday morning when she’d kissed him, she’d never realized was so thick and at the same time so fine.

This interview was destined to be a total disaster. It would be a miracle if she escaped without revealing all the things their purely sexual arrangement didn’t require he know. Especially the little sidebar fact that she was falling in love. She had to face it. Her heart didn’t tumble to her stomach for just any man.

Without glancing his way again, she took her assigned seat, wishing for a hall pass or a doctor’s excuse, anything to get out of this particular class. But once Jacob’s assistant had measured the distance for the boom, and Ann had reassured Melanie with a last-minute pep talk and a pat on the knee, the interview got underway. After several deep breaths, Melanie calmed and put on the gIRL-gEAR face that was so much a part of who she was.

She breezed through the answers to the host’s questions about the gIZMO gIRL and gOODIE gIRL lines,
explaining her vision for meeting her customers’ needs no matter their age or their income. Shared personal details of her early fascination with technical gadgetry, the computer lab as her home away from home and her resulting boot from the cheerleading squad brought a shared laugh.

And then Ann checked the notes in her lap and brought her gaze back to Melanie’s face. “Tell us, Melanie. How has your extreme involvement in this very unique start-up impacted your relationships? Do you have siblings?”

Melanie shook her head even as her mind raced forward, seeking the answers she would want to give to the more difficult relationship questions sure to follow. She had to be careful, especially with Jacob in the room, that she gave away nothing of what she felt for him.

Instead, she would need to explain the difficulty inherent in taking on outside responsibilities when work demanded so much of her time. Work had to come first, and that did not make her a chicken.

This answer, however, was easy. “Actually, no. I’m an only child. And to answer your next question,” she said as Ann smiled, “I was brought up by a very strong mother and equally strong grandmother.”

“No male authority figures in your life?”

“No. And none needed,” Melanie insisted. “Not with the models of female leadership I grew up with. My mother and her mother are the two women—no, the two
people
—who have most influenced my life. Because of them, I’ve never doubted that I can do anything I set my mind to.”

Ann’s smile was stage-perfect, but also appeared to
be sincere. “It sounds as if they were marvelous examples of independent thinking.”

“Oh, yes. Without a doubt.” Melanie nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “I owe all that I am to their unwavering support.”

“All that you are?” Ann cocked her head to the side curiously. “But not all that you have?”

Melanie laughed. “Well, the legwork and late hours have all been mine.”

“Late hours.” Ann paused…one, two, three…and added, “How does your significant other deal with the pressures gIRL-gEAR imposes?”

“Honestly? Most of the pressure I impose on myself.” Avoidance. Good honest tactic. And it worked, because the answer was honest, as well.

“A perfectionist?”

Melanie nodded. “And a workaholic.”

“So, being reared by two women…two
unattached
women…” Ann tapped her pen on her notebook, increasing the drama as she thought. “Surely that influenced your thoughts on men. Whether or not you wanted one in your own life.”

“Don’t we all want men in our lives?” Evasiveness. An even better tactic. And obviously another good answer since she heard the laughter of her spying partners in the hall outside of her office.

Ann joined in. “I hear what sounds like agreement coming from the doorway. The recent marriage of Lauren Hollister, now Lauren Neville. How did that make you feel?”

Careful, Mel.
She had no idea what the host was digging for, but she was not about to dump on her friends. “Thrilled, of course. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lauren so happy. Walking by her office requires
sunglasses these days.” Melanie sent a wink in the direction of her door. “The glow is blinding.”

A loud protest sounded from outside in the hallway.

Ann continued undaunted. “I understand several more of your partners have recently become involved with long-term significant others. Do you find yourself forced to shoulder more of the company load than your married or attached partners?”

“I’m not forced to do anything.” Melanie gave a casual sort of shrug, even while her stomach began to burn. “Sure, I work longer hours, but my lifestyle allows for that.”

An eyebrow lifted. “Any resentment?”

Not really resentment, or so she didn’t want to believe, but fear that her partners’ shifting priorities were threatening the company. Okay. Resentment. And guilt for admitting to the feeling—even if the admission was only to herself. “What would I resent? This is a partnership. We each have our strengths. We each have additional outside obligations. But one thing never changes. The fact that we are always here for one another. No matter what may be going on in our lives.”

“You’re happily married to your job, then.”

“At the moment?” Unable to stop herself, Melanie glanced at Jacob—or rather at the camera lens. The two were inseparable. A perfect couple. “Yes. Very happily,” she answered, summoning a bright smile for added emphasis. Though for the life of her she didn’t know who she was trying to convince more.

Jacob…or herself?

M
ELANIE STUDIED THE NOTES
on her legal pad on her way down the office hallway later that afternoon. She scowled at the list; half of the gIZMO gIRL possibilities no longer made any sense. The other half…well, she couldn’t even remember what most of them were.

Her decision-making deadline was drawing near. Lauren needed graphics for the site. And the new print team was waiting for catalog copy. That was Macy’s department, but Macy couldn’t write anything when she didn’t have content from which to work.

At this rate, Melanie might as well add every single product to her line since she seemed incapable of choosing the ones most likely to start a buzz among site visitors or to fulfill shoppers’ needs.

Oh, yeah. Her input was really going to have a big impact on the gIRL-gEAR bottom line. All her claims of being the someone needed to keep the company solvent in these days of e-tail ups and downs were nothing but hooey.

She couldn’t even decide between leopard-spotted and camouflage-patterned cell phone covers.

What she ought to do was have Macy add a poll to the site and let the target audience decide for her, since she was so incredibly indecisive. The one and only thing about which she was certain was her need to
throttle Jacob Faulkner for being the cause of her insanity.

Life and work would both be a whole lot easier if she didn’t love him as much as she did. Because she had no idea what to do about it.

A shuffle of papers from the conference room caught Melanie’s already distracted attention. She glanced in that direction, hesitated, tapping the eraser end of her pencil to her tablet while deciding whether or not to keep walking or to stop and go in.

Rennie Faulkner sat at one end of the long table, a sheaf of papers in her lap, her gaze focused out the window that faced nothing but the building’s back parking lot and a strip of Kirby Drive. Her feet alternated left to right, drumming out a nervous rhythm on the thick purple carpet.

Takes one crazy woman to know another,
Melanie mused, wondering what thoughts were keeping the other woman from her work. Wondering if Rennie was having as much trouble concentrating for a reason equally as aggravating as Melanie’s.

Men. Who needed them?

Holding her legal pad tight to her chest, Melanie made her decision and entered the room. “They still haven’t found you office space, I see.”

Startled, Rennie pressed a hand to her heart, then waved off Melanie’s concern and smiled. “I have an office at school. But since I’m also the visiting counselor at two other campuses, I’m used to working on my lap. I don’t expect an entire office for the little bit of time that I’m here.”

“Well, feel free to borrow mine whenever I’m not around.” It was the least she could offer since, if cir
cumstances hadn’t been what they were, the other woman might have one day been her sister-in-law.

Melanie sighed inwardly. She just needed to get over it. “What about a computer? Maybe I should talk to Sydney about getting you a notebook PC?”

“I have one. I just haven’t yet decided on a game plan for scheduling the counseling sessions.” Rennie tossed the papers in her lap onto the stack already scattered across the table. “And thanks for the offer of the office. But as you can see—” she nodded toward the mess she’d made “—I’m not exactly the neatest freak around.”

Now, that was interesting. Every time Melanie had seen the other woman, Rennie had been the epitome of put together, in her long skirts, coordinating cardigans and flats. So seeing her work space disheveled gave Melanie pause. She’d never seen Rennie at home, but it was still hard to imagine this to be the usual state of affairs.

Pulling out the closest chair, Melanie sat. “Hey, we all have our messy moments.”

Rennie only rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but I’ve never seen so much as a pencil out of place in your office. Pardon my bluntness, but messy moments my ass.”

Melanie grimaced and then grinned. She definitely liked Jacob’s sister a lot. “Only one of my many flaws…as certain people enjoy reminding me more often than necessary. I’m trying to loosen up.”

“Why?” Rennie asked with a shrug. “You are who you are. And there’s not a thing wrong with having an organized office.”

Maybe not…“Unless it’s not about the office, but
more like a borderline compulsive disorder that spills over into every corner of your life.”

“Wow.” Rennie shook her head, her smile obviously one of amusement. “Could either of us be more out of sorts?”

“Probably, but I’d really hate to be hanging out here if that were the case.” Melanie nodded toward the stack of papers she recognized as questionnaires filled out by girls interested in the gUIDANCE gIRL program. “Is this turning out to be more work than you’d thought?”

“What? The counseling?” Rennie shook her head. “Not at all. No, my being out of sorts is…a horse of a different color. One I’m not sure of the best way to handle, as I’m dealing with my own conflicted emotions.”

Hesitating for a moment, Melanie made an offer that she didn’t think she’d ever before made to a woman she didn’t know closely. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m not the best one to offer advice, but I do have a willing ear.”

Rennie’s mouth crooked in a grin that was uncannily similar to Jacob’s. “Because psychologists need counseling, too?”

“Sure,” Melanie said, feeling as if she’d just made a very good friend. “And this isn’t exactly about physician healing thyself. Just woman to woman.”

Her expression a sad sort of bewilderment, Rennie took a moment to consider. “As a woman, then, I guess it wouldn’t surprise you to hear this is all over a man?”

Out of sorts didn’t even begin to cover their shared man misery. Melanie sighed. “It happens to the best of us.”

“You, too?” Rennie’s tone was infused with a curious sense of hope.

And Melanie nodded.

“With Jacob?”

She nodded again.

Hope and bewilderment didn’t stand a chance when Rennie finally decided to grin. “I can’t believe it!”

“Is that a bad disbelief?” Because it was really hard to tell.

“How can you say that?” She tossed back her head and laughed. “It’s wonderful. I’m beyond thrilled.”

That made one of them. “Don’t be too thrilled.”

“Why not? This is the best news I’ve heard in forever. Jacob needs a strong woman in his life to be there for him. He’s not an easy man to know.”

“Well…” Melanie let the thought trail off, unsure how much of their arrangement to reveal to Jacob’s sister. “It’s not so much about knowing him, or being there for him.”

“Well what?” The other woman frowned. “He doesn’t know how you feel?”

Making love. Sharing that kiss. And then her really lame declaration of being happily married to her job. Yeah, he probably knew. “It’s not that. We’re both too involved with our careers to be involved with each other. As much as it sucks, and it does, neither one of us is in a position to be in a relationship.”

Rennie snorted. “Try being in a position with three hundred miles between.”

Three-hundred miles. Houston to…San Antonio? “Aiden Zuniga?”

“Good grief, woman. Are you psychic?”

Melanie chuckled. “I remember seeing how cozy the two of you were at Chloe’s cookout.”

Slumping back in the chair, Rennie closed her eyes and rolled her head back and forth on the headrest. “I should’ve walked away that day when he told me where he lived. I knew better. I
knew
better. But I told him I’d meet him for coffee and he kissed me and…God. My mind is taking a beating from my body and my heart.”

“Exactly.”

“After the way I grew up, I swore never to become involved with a man who wouldn’t be home with me every night. Just like Jacob swore to never become obsessed with his career. And look at us now. What a pair.” Her head lolled to one side; she opened her eyes and looked at Melanie. “So? You and me. What do we do?”

“You’re asking the wrong woman.” Melanie answered with a laugh of her own. “I’m useless.”

“I guess this time
is
about the physician healing herself.”

“I’d say so.” Melanie pondered. “But once you’re done? Feel free to send the healing vibes my direction. Or if that doesn’t work, medication.”

R
ENATA MADE HER WAY
down the second floor hallway of the new loft complex built in an old-time gothic style. Her fingers closed around the door key she held, her grip tightening until the teeth bit sharply into her palm.

Even then she didn’t let go. She wasn’t afraid of losing it; she just needed to know it was still there. That she hadn’t imagined Aiden had sent it. She was having a hard enough time believing the note he’d sent along.

He’d rented a place in town, he’d said. And he
planned to spend his weekends here. At least the weekends he could get away. Weekdays, too, when possible. He still worked the horses, yes. But much of his involvement in the ranch had taken an administrative slant.

That didn’t make him particularly happy; give him a corral over a desk any day. But such was the nature of the business these days. And paperwork and phone calls could be handled in Houston, as well as from San Antonio. FedEx and faxes and DSL hadn’t been invented for nothing.

She still couldn’t believe he’d done all this to be with her, with no guarantee of any sort of return. That was the other thing his note had said. He wanted to be with her, to spend all the time he could with her. Even if she was doing no more than lying on the sofa watching the news while he worked in the spare bedroom office.

How could she say no? How could she say yes?

How could she say anything at all until she knew the truth?

She had to know if he was being honest. If he truly wanted to get to know her, to spend time in her company, to do no more than share as much of herself as she was willing to give…. Oh, but life was unfair, offering her everything she’d ever wanted in a man she couldn’t have on her terms.

She finally spotted the doorway alcove with the smiling gargoyle above holding a sign carved with a gilded 206. Aiden’s home away from home. The threshold into the rest of her life. Or the biggest mistake she’d ever made.

She slid the key into the lock and turned it smoothly; the door opened without a single squeak
from a single hinge. The smells of fresh air and sunshine spilled through the crack as she opened the door and she knew. Oh, yes, she knew.

He was here.

He was the one, in fact, stretched out on the eggshell leather sofa watching the evening news. Pillows colored like toast and lemon and midnight-black supported his head at one end. His heels were propped on the curve of the opposite arm.

And, actually, now that she looked closer, she saw that he wasn’t watching the evening news at all but sleeping straight through. She stepped into the high-ceilinged living room and quietly closed the door. The dead bolt wasn’t as cooperative; the click sounded like a pistol shot.

Aiden’s head whipped around.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the key again clutched hard in her hand. “I didn’t know the lock would make that much noise.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, dragged a hand down his face to push sleep away. “It’s still new. I’ve thought about digging an old one out of the barn at the ranch and switching them.”

“I’m sure it will break in.” Which led to the question…if she didn’t come by very often, would he continue to keep this place? And how would she ever know if she wanted him to without obligation being a factor? She didn’t want to feel that she owed him anything at all. “With enough use.”

“I hope so.” He sat all the way up, swinging his feet to the hardwood floor. “It’s nice to see you using it.”

“To tell you the truth,” she began, sounding more nervous than she liked. “If I’d known you were here
I might not have come. I thought I’d take a quick tour before you caught me.” Oh, why did he have to look at her like that? As if he’d been waiting all of his life for her to walk through the door?

He reached for the boots he’d obviously kicked beneath the glass-and-brushed-chrome coffee table.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked.

He put one foot into one boot and gave a strong tug. “Leaving. I don’t want to put you off from your tour.”

She moved farther into the room, closer to the sofa and his sparkling blue eyes. “Don’t be silly. We’re both here. You can show me around.”

He hesitated for a long moment, looking down at the other boot held in his hands. His knees were spread wide as he leaned forward, and the tails of his white chambray shirt hung loose down his back.

She realized too late that his shirt was unbuttoned. If she’d noticed while he’d been sleeping, she could’ve done her ogling unawares. But then he dropped the second boot to the floor, pulled off the first and pushed up to his feet.

And now that he was standing not three yards away, she was faced with an amazing expanse of bare chest and belly, muscles and smooth skin and a light dusting of hair. His silver belt buckle rode low on his abs, and Renata swallowed hard.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and she couldn’t even remember what she’d said until he added, “I don’t mind leaving.”

Oh, no. If he left now she wasn’t sure she could stand it. “No. Stay. It’s your place, for goodness sake.”

“Well, then.” He gestured with the sweep of one arm. “This is the living room.”

She laughed, returning the key to her wallet as she did. “So I see,” she said, and came even closer, setting her purse in the corner of the sofa because it was a believable reason to move. From here she could sense his heat. And she rubbed her palms up and down both arms as if soaking him in.

“Cold?” he asked. “I can adjust the thermostat.”

“No. I’m fine.” She glanced around the room. Even with the cool glass-and-chrome accent pieces, the space glowed with a creamy warmth that the air-conditioning couldn’t chill. “I like the ambience. And the furnishings.” She stepped around behind the sofa, putting the piece of furniture between them. “Your decorator did a great job.”

Aiden scrubbed a hand through his hair before moving both to his hips. The tails of his shirt flared out behind him. And he tumbled Renata’s heart with his carefree grin. “How do you know this look wasn’t my idea?”