Until We Touch (Fool's Gold #15)(15)

Larissa got it. Jack liked beautiful women. Why wouldn’t he? They were available. Which was probably why she was having trouble with the idea of him being aroused because of her. She knew that she was pretty enough, but firmly in the normal category. He was used to perfection and she was just kind of...ordinary. So how could he have gotten turned on by her?

She supposed it was because he hadn’t had a girlfriend for a while. He’d been in Fool’s Gold and there was no sneaking around here.

“...asked Kenny to talk to you,” he finished.

She’d missed the middle bit, but figured that was fine.

“That sort of thing happens,” she told him, still confused but willing to go with it. “They cover it in massage school. Sam never does, but Kenny’s pretty regular. We joke about it and then it’s gone. It’s a biological function. I know it’s not personal.”

Jack’s guarded expression started to relax. “You’re okay with that?”

“Sure. I was touching you intimately. We know each other. We’re friends. You’re comfortable. You got a little too relaxed.”

She was saying all the right things. The professional things. But what she was really thinking was that she kind of wouldn’t mind for it to be personal. She’d kind of like him saying he’d been swept away.

Even as the thoughts formed, she mentally retreated from them. What on earth? Where had that come from? She and Jack were friends. She liked him, but not that way.

He touched her arm. Just a light touch, but it seemed to burn all the way to her gut.

“Thanks,” he said sincerely. “Why didn’t I come talk to you earlier?”

“You didn’t come talk to me now. I came to you.”

He flashed her a smile. A sweet sexy smile that made her knees weak.

“Right as always,” he told her. “Come on. I’ll buy you a glass of wine.”

She automatically followed him into his big, open kitchen. He pulled a bottle of merlot from the built-in wine cellar and walked to the drawer that held the opener. She collected glasses. Because they’d done this a thousand times before, they had a ritual. A ritual she liked.

Only tonight she wanted something different. She wanted him to pull her close and kiss her and... Well, she wasn’t exactly sure what they would do next, but she wasn’t feeling that picky. As long as it was Jack, she was happy.

For the second time in as many minutes, she was mentally backtracking. No, she told herself firmly. They weren’t involved. They never had been. She’d learned that lesson early and she’d learned it well. Jack was heartache. Jack wanted the most beautiful woman in the room...for fifteen minutes. And then he was done. He wanted sex and easy conversation—he didn’t want to get involved. And she...she didn’t know what she wanted but it wasn’t that. Was it?

She took the glass of wine he offered and followed him into the big open living room. When they watched movies they went downstairs to the media room. Because Jack had, if not the biggest house in town, then one that was certainly close. Five or six bedrooms, a fully finished basement, a three-car garage. He had space and gadgets and lots of shiny surfaces. But sometimes she wondered if he ever got lonely in his big house.

His place in L.A. had been similar. Maybe that explained all the fast-food women he favored. He got to pretend he was a part of something, even for a few hours, and then didn’t have any relationship messiness.

There was a large curved sofa facing a massive fireplace. Paintings hung on the walls. Real paintings of beaches and trees. Not quasi–pop art representations of him playing football.

She spotted a small oil painting by the antique writing desk in the corner.

“Is that new?” she asked. She put down her glass of wine and walked to study it.

The colors were all shades of the ocean and forest. There was a rough sea and an island beyond. She could barely make out the tiny sign by the boats. “Blackberry Island Marina.”

“When did you get this?” she asked, turning to face him.

He set his wine next to hers and grinned. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“I usually do, but this is unexpected.” Her smile widened. “You have a secret life.”

“I wish. A little privacy in this town would be nice, but I’m not holding my breath.”

She returned to stand next to him. “What would you want to keep private? It’s nice that we know everything about each other.”

“It’s a guy thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “A convenient fallback statement that has no basis in reality. You’re trying to distract me and it’s not going to work.”

“Larissa, if I wanted to distract you, there are better ways.”

He was being fun. Or playful. She knew that, because she knew Jack. But when he made that statement, in a firm voice that was both teasing and slightly sexy, she could only think of one thing.

Her muscles tensed even as her gaze involuntarily settled on his mouth. Breathing was tough and the only thought she could hold on to was an intense desire to have him kiss her. Not on the cheek or the forehead, like he usually did. She wanted him to kiss her on the mouth. Like he meant it.

Jack’s startled expression quickly changed to something she couldn’t read. He took a step back and held up his arms, as if warding her off. But in the next movement, he grabbed her, hauled her against him, then pressed his mouth to hers.