“Are you kidding?” He gives my shoulder a quick rubdown. “He’s probably cheering us on from the sidelines. He always thought those two were trouble. He used to call them—”
“Lucy and Ethel.” I nod. “But he was wrong. They are way worse than that.” I glance around the room. “Did I interrupt anything?” The enormous table behind him is laden with trays of crudités, still heaping with ignored carrots that line the periphery like little nubby fingers, and mounds of untouched broccoli. “A carbohydrate intervention perhaps? When did Stade Steel outlaw donuts?”
He lets out a laugh, and his fingers dig into my side before brushing over my left boob.
“Sorry.” He winces as he holds his hand up like a thief. “You do realize that wasn’t a cheap ploy to land on second base.”
“I don’t see why not. Your body is practically programmed to round out the bases on opening night. So all things considering, I guess I’m okay with it.”
His watery blue eyes steady into mine. “You still okay with this?” He gives my finger a tug when he says it.
“If it brings an ounce of emotional distress to the women who have specialized in giving us emotional distress all our lives, I say we walk to third the next time those two are in the room. What is third base, anyway?”
“Come on, Eight Ball. You do realize your other nickname in school was practically third base personified.”
“If you’re talking about Pop Top, that nickname was exclusive to Jugs Larissa Magee, and why the hell are you employing her after she tried to pants me in the middle of the quad on homecoming day?”
Jax softens into me, that smile of his wanes just a bit, and there’s a veiled look of sadness in his eyes. It’s easy like this with Jaxson, and I’m not sure what could possibly pain him about that. Then it hits me.
“I’m so sorry.” I press my hand to my chest. “That was totally insensitive of me. I know how much the passing of your dad still affects you. It affects me, too.” My voice crawls down to that deplorable level reserved for talking to infants and small furry pets—and apparently, family grief as it were.
“It does?” He tips his head and gives that lazy smile that makes my thighs quiver.
“Yes, it does. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that my employing Larissa offends you. I should have known you’d breeze back into my life one day, fully amped to unleash vengeance on our mothers, and it would bring you right here to my boardroom.” His eyes bear into mine with a look of wonder. “What has you back in Oak Grove? Are you a permanent fixture, or should I prepare for heartbreak?” His left eye comes this close to winking, and my sweet spot pulsates on cue. I love it when he does that. It’s been his odd physiological response whenever he’s attempting to veil the truth. But, wow, is it hot as a kiss from the sun. I’m pretty sure having routine orgasms around the boy you lusted after religiously isn’t the best idea, considering he’s setting the orgasmic bar pretty high. Those California nights are about to get longer and far lonelier once my feet touch down on L.A. soil.
“Prepare for heartbreak. I have a new job starting a week after we collectively dash our mothers’ hearts.”God—I am such a liar! Although I’m hoping something will materialize for me in that regard. I guess it’s not really lying. I’m sort of tossing positive energy out into the universe.
“New job.” That pained look comes to him once again. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing great out there.” He takes a deep breath, and that enormous chest of his rises and falls. “So I have you all to myself for the next few weeks.” His tongue does a quick revolution around those cushion soft lips as if he were readying to eat his favorite meal, and my eyes linger on the gloss left in his tracks.
“All to yourself,” I muse. My breathing becomes labored as the air seems to thicken unnaturally. Jaxson steps in closing the gap between us, and the warmth of his body radiates over me. There is something simply intoxicating about a man in a suit, but there is something downright delicious about Jaxson in a suit that makes me punch drunk with lust on a level that I can hardly stand.
He reaches over and hitches my hair behind my ear in a move so sweet it makes my legs clench in an effort to keep my ovaries from attacking him.
“Come on, Eight Ball,” he whispers in a seductive way that only Jax knows how to do. “I’ll give you a quick tour of the building.” He threads his arm though mine and nods. “For my mother’s sake.”
“Oh, right, for her sake.” I swallow hard as the girth of his body relaxes against mine. Jaxson strides us down the hall and shows me off like a brand new sports car. I’d be remiss if I didn’t note the fab way every single female on the floor drops her jaw in our honor, but the most noteworthy jaw drop is the one we’re experiencing now as we come upon Larissa as she chats stereotypically by the water cooler while her nipples peer out for a chance to peek at Jaxson themselves.
“What this?” Larissa bounces the girls right over as she demands explanation.
“The cat’s out of the bag.” I wrap an arm around this steely handsome man by my side. “Our mothers are finally getting what they wished for—the two of us are—” Just as I’m about to spear Larissa in the heart with an icicle in the shape of Jaxson Stade’s most prized member, he clears his throat.
“Having some fun,” he interjects.
“Really? Having somefun?” She steps back, looking a little affronted by our effort to have a good time. “Finishing one another’s sentences?” Her mouth opens wide. If Dalton is truly looking out for us, I’d appreciate it if he sent a giant red-eyed horsefly to zoom right down her throat. It would totally be worth the projectile vomiting that would inevitably ensue.
“We’d better go.” I give Jax a tug in the opposite direction. “He was just about to lead me to his lair. Rumor has it, he’s really good at bending the masses over his desk, and there are just some things that a girl needs to find out for herself. Toodles!”
A dark laugh thunders from his chest as he navigates me deeper down the labyrinth that is the penthouse floor of Stade Steel.
“Why did you tell her we were just having fun?” I resist the urge to smack him as he opens the door to an office the size of my apartment back in L.A., and I forget to take my next breath. Glossy dark wood floors and walls adorned with oversized canvases that practically span to the ceiling greet us. An enormous white sofa and a full black granite bar sit in the corner. The desk itself is a testament to the product Stade Steel rolls out by the bolt with a large black leather seat situated behind it.
His hands come up over my shoulders as he offers an impromptu massage. “Because that’s what we’re having, isn’t it? Fun?”
“Fun,” I whisper as I turn around to face my childhood friend as the dangerously gorgeous man he’s turned out to be. His eyes are fastened to mine, his expression serious, and there’s just enough dark stubble shadowing his cheeks to give him that rough around the edges look that he practically invented. “Is that what you want? To have fun with me, Jaxson?” My throat is so dry I can hardly get the words out.
The idea of a laugh rumbles from him as his thumb finds his way over my cheek with a quick sweep. “Yes, Poppy. I plan on having just that—a lot offunwith you.” He saysfunlike it’s a dirty word, and dear God Almighty, I’m hoping it will be.
Fun. That’s the last thing I expected to have on my trip back to Oak Grove.
It’s the last thing I expected with Jaxson Stade—but deep down, it’s exactly what I hoped for.
