“Where are you going?” Rachel asked as she followed a step behind us.
“None of your business,” I said with a bit of snark, then immediately flushed. Apparently, I’d fallen into my old habit of striking out at my bolder sister whenever I felt inadequate. Fortunately, she took it in stride with a laugh that never failed to charm anyone who heard it.
I glanced surreptitiously at Jake. Was he turning to look at her? I wouldn’t blame him. It was that laugh that got her a job doing radio. No one could resist it.
Except Jake. He didn’t even break his stride. His gaze was on my wrist and the charm bracelet. His body was gently touching mine—a hand at my lower back, his shoulder sweetly bracing mine—as he guided me to the limo.
The spiteful sibling in me cheered. It was a small thing, but damn, how wonderful to be with a guy who wasn’t distracted by Rachel. Even though it was just one moment, it was enough to make me feel special. I flushed with warmth. And it lingered as I stepped into the limo and slid across the seat. My skirt rode up, of course, and I showed a lot of thigh.
I started thinking about cellulite and all kinds of other horrible things. Was I still bruised from that seizure patient? But one glance at Jake’s face had me blushing for other reasons. His gaze was right on my legs, and his mouth was split into a lascivious grin. And when he realized I was looking at him, he lifted his shoulder in a half shrug.
“Have I mentioned how much I love that dress?”
“Um, no. You haven’t.”
“I’ve never seen a more beautiful dress or a more beautiful woman wearing it.”
Over the top, much? Yes, of course. But did it work on me? Hell, yes. Because he seemed to mean it. There was no part of him that wasn’t fully absorbed in looking at me. And that made me feel beautiful. And sexy. And so wet, I feared I would start sliding on the seat.
Jake climbed in and slid close while the chauffeur shut the door and spun sharply around before heading to the driver’s seat. I didn’t want to be swayed by shallow things like a tux and a chauffeur—not to mention a sparkly bracelet—but I was halfway under Jake’s spell. What girl got all this on a date? It was a fantasy come true. Especially when Jake gestured to the minibar and smiled.
“Care for a drink?”
I shook my head. I was already light-headed from the extravagance of everything.
With a cheeky grin, Jake pushed up the privacy window, effectively sealing us into a cocoon of leather and glass. And Jake. All Jake. Then he leaned close to whisper into my ear. He took his time at it, teasing my hair with his breath and the shell of my ear with his heat. I had to clench my hands together to keep them from trembling too obviously. Or from grabbing him, when I’d made a big deal of how this wouldn’t end in sex.
And then he spoke and effectively killed the entire mood.
“Okay, Ellie. Fess up. What’s this really all about?”
Chapter Four
Jake
There’s a moment in every game when I know my entire day rests on the next few seconds. Sometimes I make it, and it’s glorious. Sometimes I miss, and I have to suck it up until the next key moment arrives. But it’s rare indeed when that moment happens outside a ballpark. And that always makes the stakes a bit higher.
The first time, I was headed for second base…on a girl. Result: glorious. It had me grinning for days.
The second time was when I was writing the SATs, and I realized I sucked at standardized tests. There was no way I’d get into a good college with my brains. Result: miserable. But it meant I worked harder than ever at baseball.
The third time was right now, here with Ellie. Sure I’d pulled out all the stops to make this date memorable, but the girl had a different agenda than I did and I wanted to know what it was. Especially since she’d shown up in that dress.
For someone who had no intention of having sex, she looked like pure temptation, with every curve on tantalizing display. From the moment I’d laid eyes on her, I’d been harder than granite, even in front of her parents and sister.
I needed an explanation. I just prayed that I could focus on her words long enough to understand them. Because damn, she had nice legs.
She took two tries to find her voice, and even then, it came out half croak, half squeak.
“Um, what?”
“You said you wanted an old-fashioned date. I’d pick you up, say hello to your parents and family, and we go out to dinner.”
“Y-yes?”
I cocked a brow at the length of leg on display and had to stop myself from caressing it. “That is not an old-fashioned dress.”
“Um, right.”
