Striptease Read online

  “No. I much prefer to dance at home.”

  Jacob cleared the sudden horny frog from his throat. “Works for me. And, sure. Paddington’s is great. What time you want to meet?”

  “Is nine good for you?”

  Nine would give him at least a good hour and a half at the ball game. And Minute Maid Park was only ten blocks or so from Main. Save his ass from total annihilation for skipping out on the boys again. “Yep. Perfect.”

  “Okay then.” She hesitated, breathed softly, then added, “I’ll see you there.”

  He opened his mouth to ask her what was going on, but the dial tone was already buzzing in his ear. So much for small talk. He hated small talk anyway, and, besides, Melanie was all business. Except when she was making like a wild woman and tumbling him in bed.

  Strange, that phone call. Though he supposed it wasn’t, really. They weren’t exactly running around hiding their affair, but neither had they talked about taking what they had and moving it out of the bedroom. Dating, he was pretty sure the practice was still called.

  He could hardly blame her for wanting more than the games they’d been playing in bed. Sex never was enough for a woman. Except that Melanie had seemed to be okay with the arrangement up until now.

  Still, he could be a good guy. He’d have a drink or two, maybe a cigar. And he wouldn’t even talk about sex until they got back to her place and into her bed.

  10

  SITTING IN Paddington’s Ford, where she’d chosen a booth halfway between the bar and the entrance, Melanie watched the glow from the lantern over her table catch in her glass of chardonnay.

  Why in the world she was nervous, she hadn’t a clue. She’d seen Jacob butt naked. She’d done things to his body she’d never thought of doing to a man. She’d discovered all the heres and theres that got him off.

  And yet she was nervous about meeting him for drinks.

  This was all Rennie’s fault, for peeling back just enough of her brother’s camouflage to tease Melanie’s curiosity. Until now she’d been able to convince herself that their sexual relationship was enough to keep her satisfied. Until now. But after talking with Rennie, Melanie knew there was much more to Jacob Faulkner than she could ever learn about in bed.

  That was why she’d come here, hoping time spent in his company—in public and fully clothed—would disprove what her intuition was telling her. She needed a hint, a clue, an admission even, that he wasn’t the goal-driven man she suspected, the overachiever he tried so hard to hide.

  At least that was what she needed if she wanted to continue their affair.

  And she wanted to continue their affair. An affair or a fling she could handle as long as the man involved wasn’t the type she’d eventually want to get serious about. But right now when work had to be her focus, a relationship with a driven, career-oriented man wasn’t possible—not if she wanted to keep her wits about her.

  Because once he’d gained her respect and admiration, as well as her lust, she’d find it impossible to concentrate on all the things she had on her plate. He’d become a distraction, and she was afraid she’d come to resent him for that, for destroying her concentration.

  She couldn’t have Jacob and her job—not if she hoped to do her best by both a relationship and a career.

  God, who was she kidding? Jacob Faulkner had her respect and admiration in spades. She’d known deep down from the very beginning that he wasn’t a bum. That he wasn’t lazy in the least. That he was smart and so much more than a boy toy. She also knew that for some reason he didn’t want anyone to see that truth.

  Too bad for him. Her future depended on verifying just that. Instinct told her the driven ambition he denied was the reason for the success he pretended meant nothing.

  And that same ambition was at the root of their sizzling attraction.

  Opposites might attract in theory, but rudderless men had never commanded her respect—much less her lust.

  Jacob did both.

  And, yes. That admission was much easier to understand than thinking she’d only been after his, uh, assets. But it also complicated the hell out of her life. Which was why, unless she relished living in a cardboard box under the Pierce Elevated, she probably should call off their fling. And since Jacob had made it clear that he didn’t want to continue what they had beyond the documentary shoot, putting an end to their involvement here and now made the most sense. She had to cut him out of her life while she still had the strength to do so.

  Frowning, she lifted her glass for several long cool sips of wine, wishing she’d chosen a place with a less intimate ambience. A place better suited for the end of an affair. A place with bright lighting and a garish decor and music conducive to something other than seduction.

  She needed to be concentrating on her career and gIRL-gEAR’s bottom line, essentially one and the same when she got right down to it. If only her own fate was at risk, she might have considered relaxing her guard. But she also supplemented Mama’s and Nana’s incomes each month.

  Melanie lowered her glass to the table, her mouth twisting in disgust. Both her father and grandfather had gone AWOL on their marriages, leaving wives with broken spirits. Despite preaching the rewards of setting high goals or the mantra of independence they’d instilled in her as a child, neither woman had possessed the means to pursue either.

  Keeping a roof over three heads and food in their mouths—not to mention paying for Melanie’s tuition and fees not covered with grants and small scholarships—meant her mother and grandmother had had to continue in their secretarial positions rather than strike out after their own dreams.

  When Melanie had met her future partners at university, she’d sensed kindred spirits and rejoiced. Independent, smart and sassy, mistresses of their bodies, hearts and destinies, the six founding “gIRLS” had always agreed to keep men in the bedroom and out of their company’s boardroom.

  Or at least they had until this recent rash of partnering-up by her partners. Now sex, or relationships, anyway, seemed to be eclipsing everyone’s priorities. Until they got back with the program, like it or not, Melanie was the lone business ranger.

  Business was where her head needed to be. Period. End of story.

  Snorting, she checked her watch. Jacob was running late. Or worse, he wasn’t going to show up at all. Great. Rejected. Dumping her before she could find out the truth and decide whether or not to dump him. Wasn’t that just like a man, always wanting the upper hand?

  She’d chosen to face away from the door, not wanting to be tempted into watching for him to arrive. She planned to play this as coolly as she possibly could, but the way her palms were already sweating, she was beginning to wonder if cool still remained a part of her repertoire.

  Since that day Jacob had walked down the dais steps in the church sanctuary and circled around her as if judging her lines and her markings, she hadn’t gone to bed one single night without thinking about him. A fact she resented and had vowed to change tonight.

  Now that he might be standing her up, she perversely ached to see his smile and duel wits with the dangerous man. He stimulated her mind, as well as her passionate sexual nature. Quite frankly, she would miss the hell out of having him around once he was gone.

  “Miss me?”

  She took hold of the stem of her wineglass before the whole thing tumbled over, glancing up just as Jacob slid onto the opposite bench. “Now why would you think that? I had an entire day to myself without my every step dogged and my every word recorded.”

  “Yeah. Those cameras can be a real pain in the ass.” He gestured to the server to refill her drink and bring him the same. “Still, it’s a tough loss to have a good one taken out of commission. I’m guessing it ended up in your building’s Dumpster?”

  Melanie snorted. “Go fish, if you want. But that piece of junk couldn’t have cost you more than fifteen dollars. I’m surprised it even worked long enough to, well, to work. Just wait till you get the bill for the stolen bandwidth.”
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  “Not a problem.” He sat back, stretched both arms along the back of the booth. “I’ll make a fortune when I offer the video for download.”

  This time it was Jacob who shot forward to catch her wineglass, but not before half her remaining drink sloshed onto the red-and-indigo tablecloth. Once he righted the stemware, he slowly lifted his guilt-ridden gaze. “I was kidding, Melanie. You know that, don’t you? Tell me you know that, or I’m going to have to shoot myself over here.”

  She wasn’t sure she was going to be able to stave off the sudden burning rush of tears. Her heart pounded until she was certain a wide hole had to be gaping in her chest. “It was a joke.”

  “Yes. God, yes,” he hurried to confirm. He reached a hand across the table toward her, but hers remained twisted together in her lap. “A joke, Melanie. And a very bad one at that. One I won’t make again. I swear.”

  Breathing slowly, deeply, Melanie pressed her lips together while her blood pressure calmed. Calm, cool and collected, as Kinsey would say. That was the ticket. And the cocky bastard was not going to get away with scaring her to death, bad joke or no.

  Feeling more like herself again, she arched one brow as inspiration hit. “And what’s an oath you make worth, Faulkner? Do you take your honor as seriously as you take your work?”

  He paused. “Is this a trick question?”

  She lifted one shoulder and smoothed the wrinkles her fingers had put into her short linen skirt the color of plump eggplant. She wondered if he would notice. The color, not the wrinkles.

  She forced her hands to be still. “No tricks on my part, but I’m beginning to think you have a few up your sleeve.”

  He fought a frown that appeared to be half wariness and half anger, laced his hands over his abs and leaned back. “Okay. I’ll bite. Tell me what you think I’m hiding so I can at least defend myself.”

  Fair enough. “For starters, you pretend that what you do doesn’t define who you are. That it doesn’t rule your every decision.”

  “Hey, sweetheart.” He slumped back farther. “I’m not the one here ruling my life and any number of others with an iron fist.”

  She somehow kept from flinching. “If I flex an iron fist, I have my reasons.” He didn’t have to know she’d believed all her life that being in control gave her power and protection in a man’s world. “But we’re talking about you, sweetheart. Not me. Don’t avoid the subject.”

  He frowned in earnest. “The subject bores me.”

  “Humor me, then.” Lacing her fingers together on the table’s edge, she leaned toward him. “Tell me that you don’t know exactly where you want your career to be in five years. Tell me you don’t know exactly how you plan to get there. Tell me you’re a temperamental artist with no head for business. Tell me with a straight face, and I’ll believe you.”

  Tell me, ease my mind, and then great sex will be enough for me. If you’re really the bum I know you’re not, I won’t be looking for more.

  He glanced toward the center of the room, obviously not certain how to answer, or if he wanted to answer at all. His fingertips now flat on the base of his wineglass, he pushed the glass forward, pulled it back.

  Finally, he returned his gaze to hers. It was as if he’d wiped away everything he’d been thinking; his expression was sadly blank. “It sounds to me like you’ve been spending too much time with my sister the psychologist.”

  Another diversion, Melanie noted with a sinking heart. No denial. “Why? Because it’s not possible that I might possess any insight into human nature?”

  She sat back and drained her second glass of wine, uncertain if she wanted to go for three. Then again, the look now darkening Jacob’s face might be easier to deal with were she under the influence and passed out flat on the floor.

  His voice dropped to a rough whisper and he said, “Don’t do this to me, Mel. Don’t do this to what we’ve got going for us.”

  Odd that the strength of purpose she found irresistible seemed a source of shame to him. “Don’t do what? Try to have a conversation?”

  “Don’t start analyzing. Don’t pick it apart.”

  “And what exactly do we have going for us, anyway, that I’m ruining by trying to understand you better?”

  “Do I really have to spell it out?”

  She waited for a moment, looking into his eyes, wishing she saw more there than what appeared to be regret. What was it he regretted?

  Ever getting involved with her in the first place? Or the fact that she liked him as much out of bed as in? That she could fall in love with a man who never sacrificed his convictions and goals to her own considerable will?

  She grabbed her purse, inexplicably hurt by the fact that he wouldn’t want her love—even though she had no intention of offering it. “No. You really don’t. Because there’s nothing to spell out, is there?”

  Jacob got to his feet before she could manage to beat him to hers, and slid into her side of the booth, blocking her route of escape. She did not want to sit here and argue; she did not want to sit here and sulk. But it seemed she was stuck and doing both.

  “It’s bothering you, isn’t it?” he asked, once she’d sat back and he was at her side, his knee cocked up onto the bench, enabling him to face her, one arm along the booth’s padded back, his fingers teasing strands of her hair.

  “You disturbing my hair? Yes. It’s bothering me,” she said but she didn’t move away.

  Neither did he move his hand. “The Webcam performance. You’re wishing you could take it all back.”

  How could he be so smart, yet so clueless? Still, sex was a safer subject than love. “If you’re going to be offering it for download, yeah. I’m wishing exactly that.”

  His hand moved to her nape, where he began to massage, his fingers firmly working away the stiffness and tension. “No downloading. I told you. That performance is mine. Period. Unless…you’d like to watch with me. We could take the wine back to my place.”

  She shook her head, shivering as his hand slid away from her neck and lower, his wrist resting on her shoulder and the touch of his fingertips teasing the bare skin above her collarbone. Her nipples tightened and she was glad the room’s lighting was dim and her top a loose fit.

  And then she realized he’d invited her to see where he lived. For sex, of course. Progress, of sorts, when she’d finally given up and decided to cut her losses. “No thanks. I’d just as soon forget the existence of that recording, if you don’t mind.”

  “Why?” He scooted closer to her and she was so tempted to cuddle into his body that staying where she was required willpower the likes of which he had no idea. “You were wondering what we had going for us. Your willingness to go that far, knowing you could trust me. That’s a big part of it.”

  She gave a sharp snort and tried to slump down in the seat, away from his hand. But he followed suit, closing the distance she’d been determined to keep. “That…that performance. That was so not me. I mean, yes. I love the sex. And I’m not looking for a white picket fence. It’s just…”

  His second hand, which had been inching its way into her lap, stilled. “It’s just what?”

  Here we go, she thought. The commitmentphobe was giving her the out she’d come here looking for and had forgotten along the way. “I can’t pretend you’re a stranger anymore. I know you too well.”

  He hesitated a moment, then moved his hands and his hip and his entire body, sliding down the bench away from her. “I doubt it, sweetheart.”

  Missing his nearness already, she prepared to drive him away for good. “I know you don’t want to believe that you might actually be letting your career take over your life. I know you don’t want to believe that you’ve fallen into the same trap that your parents did. Because that would mean you didn’t learn anything at all from their example. And that you’ve let down your sister, as well as yourself.”

  His narrowed eyes glittered. He picked up his wineglass and drained it dry. And then he shook his head. “You’ve
definitely been talking too much to my sister.”

  “Am I right?”

  He shifted around on the bench to face her. “I have plans, Melanie. I’m not sure what Renata told you, but one thing even she doesn’t know is that this documentary is going to take me where I want to go.”

  “How so?”

  He shook his head, as if what he was thinking had nothing to do with her question, but with what he was seeing in his mind. “This is the best work I’ve ever done. Everything I’ve captured is real. Nothing is forced or set up. It’s spontaneous. Every single detail. That’s why I could see the way you were looking at me. And that’s why…” He hesitated, as if uncertain how much more to say.

  “Why what?” she prompted.

  “Why I can’t think of this as a relationship,” he said quickly. “I like you a lot, Melanie. I’m pretty sure you know that. But a true relationship would cut into the time I need to spend on my work. The time, and especially the focus, I need right now. I’m at a really crucial point and I don’t want to screw it up.”

  And she would screw it up. Who was driving whom away? She pursed her lips for a moment before saying, “Then my timing is really perfect.”

  “Timing?”

  She nodded. “I’ve realized lately how much I’ve neglected work since you and I have been involved. And it wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t been watching that same sort of neglect happen all around me.”

  “I’m lost here, sweetheart. But feel free to enlighten me.”

  “Lauren can’t go without calling Anton at least five times a day. Macy’s lunch hours always run two hours, no doubt taken in Leo’s corporate rest room. Chloe repairs her makeup at the end of the day, but on company time, because getting home to Eric is all that matters.” God, where was all of this coming from? “Even Sydney spends too much time daydreaming, looking like the cat that ate the canary.”

  The dreaded relationship distraction. Melanie expelled a long sigh, trying to keep her voice steady. A steadiness that would’ve been easier to maintain if what she was thinking and what she’d just said didn’t make the women she loved and worked with sound like unprofessional dweebs.