Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(18)

“Why are you so interested?”

The question had fairly burst out of her, but Jasper didn’t even flinch. “If I don’t know your thoughts, how can I get inside them?”

She was being drawn back under his spell. But even her total awareness of the fog descending couldn’t get her to pull away or heed the warning signs on the road to destruction. “You’re there,” she murmured. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to kick you out.”

“I can be stubborn when I have a mind to. You just wait and see,” he responded, completely undeterred. “Are you coming back to my office so we can get to know each other better? Or do you want to be carried?”

Carry me. “Don’t even try it.”

His answering smile probably dropped panties from Hurley all the way back to California. “I’ll ask you again later, when your knees are feeling weak.”

She glanced down at their joined hands, noticing his tight grip for the first time, probably because she’d been ready to make a dash. His knuckles were white, the unbreakable hold so at odds with his casual demeanor. “We’ll see if you can make them weak.”

“Here’s hoping I get the chance,” Jasper muttered, turning once again to lead her through the masses. They’d only made it five steps when two dancing miniskirts sailed into their path. It was like that moment at the end of a concert when the lights go on and the atmosphere is obliterated. One second you’re in a dark, magical place with musical notes painting the air, and the next? You’re in a sweaty room with strangers and spilled beer on your shoes. Jasper visibly deflated with the women’s arrival. And that reaction twisted Rita’s stomach into a pretzel.

“Jas-per. Where you off to?”

“Excuse us, please, Gina,” he responded, voice weary. “Just showing Rita the new eatery addition out back.”

“Oh right, the addition.” Miniskirt Number Two elbowed her friend. “You know, you can try and clean this place up, but it’ll always be dirty. Just like you, isn’t that right?”

“Mmmhmm. You come find us when you’re done with this little tour,” said Miniskirt Number One, putting air quotations around the word tour. “You’ll still have enough energy for the both of us, if memory serves.”

They started moving again—fast—but Rita’s feet had transformed into sandbags. She wanted to pull her hand out of Jasper’s grip but didn’t want to be left standing like a loser in the middle of the bar, so she all but jogged along behind him. The few sips of beer she’d taken were like ball bearings in her stomach, rolling around and knocking together. She was used to being treated like she was invisible, but not in front of a man with whom she’d been making a sad attempt to flirt. Those women hadn’t even spared her a passing glance, that was how nonthreatened they were by her. She just wanted to go back to the motel, crawl under the covers, and die a slow death.

“Let go of me.”

“Can’t.”

“You can.” Seeing what she assumed to be the office doorway up ahead, she attempted to free herself and failed. They were inside the office with the door closed a moment later. With the music’s volume muffled, their heavy breathing took precedence in the room. She waited for him to turn on a light, but he didn’t, just paced in front of her, his frustrated profile highlighted by the street lamp just outside the window. “I need to get back to—”

“Why did you come here tonight?”

She threw up her hands. “You asked me to.”

He stopped pacing, irritation clear in the lines of his hard body. “Rita, I’ve known you less than a day, and I know you don’t just do things because someone asked.”

Okay, fine. So what did he want to hear? She’d come because he fascinated her? Because she was attracted against her will? She’d rather draw and quarter herself with a carving knife after that scene with Miniskirts One and Two out in the bar. “My sister made me.”

“Wrong again.”

Rita ground her teeth together. A rebellion took place inside her, building and building in intensity. He wanted the truth, did he? What did she care? She’d already been humiliated, and tomorrow morning they would leave this nowhere town and never look back. Revealing her secret motivation might be embarrassing, but she’d survived worse. Internet notoriety. Her restaurant burning down. Life in general.

In fact, what if she went one step further with that line of reasoning? This man wanted her, whether it was a simple hankering for something new or genuine interest. What did she have to lose? At least it would feel good. At least she would feel something other than the failure and self-pity that had been dogging her lately.

Rita sucked in a breath. “I came here so you would fuck me.”





Chapter Nine



There it was.

To be fair—although what the hell did fair even mean?—when he’d asked Rita why she’d come, he’d been flat-out begging for this answer. She’d come for the sex. Of course she’d come for the sex. What did he think lured her here? His dynamic personality? His oh-so-impressive career? Maybe he should ditch his new plan to be a decent human being and just take out an ad in the Sunday paper.

Come on down to the Liquor Hole. Tuesday is 10-cent wing night. Don’t miss your chance for meaningless sex with the no-account owner.