“But it’s worth looking into. Come on, Savannah. I don’t have anything pressing to do until early evening. This’d be a change of pace for me.”
It was a minute before she recovered from the sound of her name on his tongue. It was low and intimate. It stroked her senses and would have brought on a purr if the circumstances had been different. Instead of purring, she eyed him askance. “What’s happening early this evening?”
“I have a conference call set for six o’clock with a group of investors from California.”
That was not only impressive but far better than if he’d had a date. Turning away in relief, she gathered the papers together and slipped them into their envelope. Then she handed both envelopes back to him.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and for a minute she drank in his features as if they were an extra dose of courage. She feared things were going to get worse before they got better at the Vandermeer house.
Then, turning away before she positively threw herself at him, she snatched up the phone. “Janie, would you call me a cab?”
Jared took the phone from her hand and, in a voice that was deeper and huskier than ever, said, “Cancel that cab, Janie. Thanks anyway.” Then he hung up.
Savannah was shaking her head in a slow, chiding way. “I can’t let you drive me there.”
“You haven’t got much choice,” he said. “I just canceled your cab.”
“I’ll order another.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” she asked, sounding nearly as haughty as Susan had sounded earlier that day with Sam.
Jared’s eyes were darker, his voice a near growl. “When a woman looks at me the way you just did, she’s not running off in a cab when I have a perfectly good car sitting at the curb.”
Savannah opened her mouth to protest that she hadn’t looked at him any special way, then shut it without uttering a word.
“Thank you,” he drawled. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted her coat hanging on a hook on the back of the door. Seconds later, he was holding it for her. She slipped her arms in, closing her eyes for a brief moment when she felt his hands still on her shoulders. Seconds afterward he opened the office door.
“I’ll be at the Vandermeers,” she murmured to Janie Woo as she started past. She stopped in her tracks when she saw how Janie was staring at Jared. “He’s helping me out with something, but as far as anyone’s concerned, he wasn’t here. Right, Janie?”
Janie, who knew that the security of her job relied heavily on discretion, nodded.
Satisfied, Savannah started off again. She didn’t have to look around to know that Jared was close on her heels. She felt his heat, felt the vibrancy of his body. And it occurred to her while he stood, straight and tall, waiting beside her for the elevator, that on another day at another time, she would have let him drive her anywhere his heart desired.
CHAPTER8
Jared had done his share of living. In his thirty-nine years, he had had many friends, and of those, many had been women. He had been through numerous relationships, two live-in loves, and one wife. But no woman had ever looked at him with quite the need he had seen in Savannah’s eyes. From the moment at the studio when she had turned around and looked at him, he had seen the need. And the admiration. There had also been admiration in her eyes.
He was used to admiration. Women took to his looks, just as they did to his voice, and he played on the latter. His voice was a marketable commodity. It was largely responsible for the appeal of his show. He intentionally enhanced it with his choice of words and his tone.
But he did nothing to enhance his looks and deliberately kept as low a profile as possible. He enjoyed the anonymity he’d found in Rhode Island; he enjoyed being able to walk the streets unknown. When a PR event took place, he sent one of the other DJs. When the request was specifically for Jared Snow, he turned it down with a firm excuse. He treasured his newfound privacy. It was critical to him at this time in his life, when he was feeling his way along, waiting for the ultimate inspiration to hit.
Then along came Savannah’s need. He had been skeptical at first, wondering if she was after something as simple as sex. As they talked, though, he’d begun to wonder. She didn’t make a play for him. She didn’t do anything remotely seductive—at least, not intentionally. There had been that moment when he’d been in the sound booth and had looked out at her through the glass. She’d just taken off her coat. He suspected he would have stared even if she hadn’t bent over to retrieve her briefcase.
She was not striking. Nor was she gorgeous. But in an understated way, she was sexy as hell. Her features were smooth and appealing, her skin soft and fair. Her hair was a glossy brown mass gathered into a sedate knot, begging, just begging, for release. In fact, that was what was so sexy about her—her neatness was a challenge. She was the consummate professional, yet she held hints of sweetness that tried a man’s soul. She didn’t hide the slender length of her legs or the slight turn of her hips or the gentle swell of her breasts, yet none were boldly broadcast. There was a mystery to her. She was alluring.
She turned him on.
“I won’t hold it against you, y’know,” he teased in a voice that was just loud enough to rise above the noise of the idling engine.
Safely strapped into the passenger seat of his Pathfinder, Savannah focused on the pedestrians passing by.
He tried again. “You can look at me any way you want. I don’t mind.”
She turned her head away, but not before he caught a hint of color on her cheeks.
“You’re under a lot of pressure,” he said. “I’m glad to help.”
