The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(82)

But he kept his distance.

"I thought the same thing when I saw you on the airplane," he admitted.

I finally managed to speak. "Really?"

He reached out and ran his fingers lightly across the surface of my lips. I could smell the remnants of leather from his golfing glove. I fought the burning desire to close my eyes.

"Amazing," he repeated softly.

"Thank you" was all I could think to say.

"So what does your school of thought say about kissing?" he whispered softly, his warm breath taking mere moments to reach my face.

I bit my lip. "Um . . . what about it?"

He brought his face even closer, and for the first time in the evening I could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. "Well, technically, according to your more modern rulebook, the girl should initiate any lip-to-lip action."

I smiled. "I never said that."

"I was just speculating." He reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from my forehead.

"Don't," I whispered.

He came even closer, the tips of our noses only millimeters apart. "Don't what?"

"Speculate."

Then he kissed me. It was soft and delicate. He tasted like hot dogs and Coke and I couldn't get enough of it. Even the faint lingering taste of mustard was like heaven in my mouth. His hand rested softly on my cheek and then slowly made its way to the back of my head. He pressed me closer to him and the kiss intensified... but only slightly... nothing more.

There were no kissing calculations floating through my mind. No ratios to compute. The connection was flawless and completely spontaneous.

My whole body felt like it was on fire. I wanted nothing more than to take off all my clothes and make love to him right there – in the golf course parking lot. I wasn't sure if it was Jamie or the fact that I hadn't had sex in such a long time. But I wanted him so badly it was driving me crazy.

Maybe it was both.

Fortunately, he had much more restraint than I did. He eventually pulled away and allowed his mouth to linger close to mine.

With his hand still on the back of my head he rested his forehead against mine, as if surrendering himself to me. I closed my eyes again.

"Where did you come from?" he whispered with a half laugh, and then, before I could respond, kissed me on the forehead and reached around me to open the car door.



WHEN WE pulled up in front of my building, Jamie asked me if he could see me again on Saturday night. Without even thinking, I agreed. Because at that perfect moment, there was nothing to think about. There was nothing to consider.

But as I unlocked my front door I was unsure of how I would deal with what was waiting on the other side.

Silence.

Deafening silence.

The kind that makes you think. The kind that forces you to face realities. The kind that begs for answers and clarification and decisions.

And I knew for sure that I didn't want to make any.

I didn't want to define anything.

I didn't want to answer the questions that would certainly start pouring in from every corner of my brain the minute that door closed behind me.

I had always lived alone, but tonight my house felt emptier than it had ever felt before.

I quickly made my way to my bedroom, without even bothering to illuminate my path with any of the hallway lights. I plopped down on the bed, laid back, and allowed my eyes to shut. But only for a moment, while I took a long, deep, purposeful breath. Attempting with all my strength to regain my composure. Steady my heartbeat. Recover control.

My thoughts were a blur. I couldn't stop thinking about the events of the evening. Every word that had come out of his mouth was replaying in my head. I could still feel the soft touch of his lips as if they had become a permanent part of me.

And then a disturbing image started to swirl around in my head, refusing to disappear. It was a picture of Jamie waking up tomorrow morning, the sun shining brightly through his windows, the thought of our kiss still lingering in his mind, a piece of paper with my phone number written on it sitting on his desk next to the computer. He'd sit down with his coffee, and while his laptop booted up, he'd glance down at my phone number and smile, looking forward to Saturday night. Looking forward to another night just like last night. Better than last night.

And then he would open his e-mail application and wait as the server downloaded the million and a half messages he had accumulated since he left the office the night before. He would slowly sift through them, deleting the junk, saving the ones that required follow-up, and smiling at the funny jokes sent by friends.

Then he would arrive at a very special e-mail. One from a close acquaintance or friend, or maybe even a former colleague. And what would make this particular e-mail special was that there would be no text inside... only a mysterious link. Intrigued, he would click on that link, and after an innocent sip of his coffee, he would casually glance over the content of the Web page that had magically appeared on his screen at the click of a button. And just as he was about to dismiss the information as yet another useless forward, his fingers would stop. His hand on the mouse would freeze. His eyes would be glued to the screen. He would blink. Once, twice, then again. Is that really her? he would think. It can't possibly be her! But it looks so much like her. And what does this say? That she's hired by wives to seduce husbands?

And then he would think, What kind of girl even does that?