It wasn’t that he hated people. Jacob rolled his shoulders, the bow tie around his neck foreign and uncomfortable. He simply didn’t like most of them as much as he enjoyed his own company.
And when he’d spent the better part of a week turned inside out thanks to a certain beautiful woman and certain explosive events that had happened on the rug in her office, the last thing he wanted to do was put on a tux and mingle with people he barely knew.
However, he had committed to this particular dinner months ago. After his father had died of a sudden heart attack, he’d started contributing his time to this heart disease prevention charity. Stephen King he wasn’t, but Jacob supposed he had become something of a public figure in the past couple of years as his books grew in popularity.
He settled himself against the wall, a watered-down scotch in his hands. He had made some halfhearted bids in the silent auction and greeted the organizers. Once he finished this second drink, he would slip out and head home.
His lips twisted. Home, where he could deal with Kati’s continued silent treatment and try not to wallow in guilt and self-disgust over his lapse in control five days ago.
Like that was possible. If he wasn’t kicking himself for kissing Akira in the first place, he was tearing himself apart over how he had run out on her like his ass was on fire.
After multiple sleepless nights dissecting the encounter down to its guts, he still didn’t know what had possessed him to take her in his arms. At the time, he’d had some vague notion he had to fix the pain bringing Akira to her knees. Seeing her stripped of her sass and strength was wrong. He hadn’t thought before he’d gathered her up, desperate to restore balance to his universe.
As to why he’d kissed her and all the rest…he didn’t know. He’d only had platonic intentions, until her tongue had flicked his thumb. And then all of the willpower he’d employed for over fourteen long years had gone up in smoke.
Should never have touched her.He gave a humorless laugh. No shit.
He ought to apologize, his guilty conscience whispered. He already had, during his stumbled rush out the door, but it wasn’t enough.
But she was far too dangerous for him to seek out, even to apologize. He now had a proven disastrous track record around her.
“Jacob?”
Disturbed from his introspection, he started, relaxing when he recognized the statuesque blonde woman a couple feet away. “Elizabeth.”
“Oh my God,” she said. “It is you. I thought surely the hermit hadn’t left his house.”
His smile was genuine. Elizabeth and he had dated casually for a couple months a few years ago. Their relationship had fizzled, and their breakup had been amicable. Jacob’s breakups were always amicable.
That was a good thing, idiot.
“The hermit pokes his head out when he’s paying hundreds of dollars a head for rubbery chicken. Take a picture, these sightings are rare.”
She chuckled. “Aw. There’s the deadpan sense of humor I loved. It’s so good to see you.” They exchanged a quick embrace. She smelled like lavender. Familiar.
“Good to see you too.”
“You look great.” Her blue eyes were admiring.
He should be returning her regard. She was beautiful and smart, and they had enjoyed a spark once before. If he was clever, that was exactly what he would do. “You too. Can I get you a drink?”
“Nah. I’m here representing the firm tonight, and I’m saving my allotted glass of wine for dinner so I can numb the pain when one of our senior partners starts to canoodle with his wife.” She cocked her head. “I actually have an extra seat next to me, if you’d like to enjoy your rubbery chicken at my table.”
He should accept. Any other man would.
The fact that a larger part of him would still rather go home and sit alone in his house didn’t bode well for their prospects, though.
He opened his mouth to politely decline and make a smooth exit, but a flash of red in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. She couldn’t be here.
But it was. Akira’s blue-black hair shone under the light of the dozen chandeliers. Amidst the sea of women wearing floor-length gowns in muted colors, Akira’s bright red strapless satin dress was like a crimson flag. The slippery material was cut low in the back, hugged her breasts and small waist, and only came as far as mid-thigh.
Her jewelry was minimal, not that she needed any more adornment. She was already packaged like the perfect present. Hell, her fancy fuck-me shoes even had little bows wrapped around her ankles.
What he wouldn’t give to pull those satin bows free with his teeth. Or trace the delicate bumps of her spine with his tongue. Between her bare arms, legs and back, there was too much Akira on display for his sanity.
Light flashed off the diamond studs in her ears as she turned slightly. Black eyes met his.
Jacob didn’t need a mirror to know he was probably staring at her agog. In stark contrast, there was zero shock on her face.
