A Touch Of Frost (4 page)

“If the smell of this place is anything to go by, the food is delicious,” Elle said as she glanced around. “It could do with a décor update, but who needs new and fancy if the place lives up to the hype.” She grinned.

He placed the bottle of wine on the table. “Be back in a second.” Jack left her and headed for the kitchen. The second he got through the door he was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug from Rosa, Antonio’s wife.

“You not come by in ages,” she scolded.

Jack chuckled. “I was here last Friday night.”

She slapped him on the arm. “One week I no see your handsome face.”

“I’ve been busy and I thought you would have had enough of me by now.” He reached over Rosa’s head for two wine glasses.

“Never.” She gave him a shove. “Now you go out there with that pretty woman and I bring you dinner.”

“Ah, we haven’t ordered yet…”

Rosa glared at him.

Jack backed up a step, held up his hands, a glass in each. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

He wasn’t sure Elle would be impressed by having her dinner choice made for her, but if he’d learned anything in the weeks he’d been coming here, he’d learned that Rosa had some sort of ESP and knew, down to the last drip of gelato, what you wanted to eat. There hadn’t been one bad meal and with each one Jack had marvelled at the older woman’s ability to pick what his tastebuds craved.

When Jack reached the table again, he picked up the bottle and filled the glasses. Taking his seat, he held his glass up towards Elle. “A toast.”

She picked up her wine and held it beside his.

“To new beginnings and new friends.” He clinked their glasses.

“New beginnings and new friends.” Elle smiled as she moved her glass to her lips and took a sip.

Jack ignored the way her mouth pursed around the rim, but he couldn’t ignore the carnal sight of her tongue slipping out and sliding over her bottom lip. He’d been riding the edge of desire for Elle all day, and now that he had her full attention he really wanted to taste her.

Would she be sweet or tart from the wine? Would her lips be warm or cool?

“Jack.” Elle waved her hand in front of him. “Jack.”

“Huh? Sorry. What?” He felt his cheeks heat. God, he was such an idiot around her.

“Menus? We don’t have any.” She looked at the nearby tables.

“They don’t have them.”

“What? How can a restaurant not have menus?”

He shrugged. “It works for them. In fact, you don’t even pick what you eat. That’s Rosa’s job.”

Elle stared at him, her mouth hanging open.

Jack lifted a shoulder once more. “She just seems to know what you want.”

“But what if you’re allergic to something?”

He leaned closer. “Don’t say anything, but I think Rosa is a witch or mind reader. Honestly, if you’re allergic or don’t like something she knows.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him.

“Trust me. I’ve seen it happen over and over again,” he explained.

“We’ll see. I don’t like onion and most Italian dishes are full of it.” She leaned back in her chair, an air of challenge about her.

Jack held up a hand. “Hey. I was as sceptical as you when I first came here. I’m a complete believer now.”

“Mmm…”

He smiled. She had a right to be suspicious. Rosa’s ability was definitely unbelievable.

“How do I know you didn’t order when you went into the kitchen?” Elle asked.

“I guess I could have.” He took a sip of wine. “But I didn’t know about your aversion to onion and I bet you another bottle of wine and a movie at my place after dinner that Rosa not only knows, but delivers you a meal without onion.”

She sat up and thrust her hand across the table. “You’re on.”

Not one to let a sure thing slip past, Jack reached over and shook on the deal. He grinned. “What type of movies do you like?”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“Rosa won’t let me down.” He topped up both their glasses. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“No. One of the assistant managers is on, but I’m always on call. Unfortunately, the buck stops here.” Elle aimed her thumb at her chest. “Not that I’m expecting any problems. With Frosty’s Snowmen onsite twenty-four-seven for the next three weeks, I’ll be able to enjoy my weekends without worry.”

From the corner of his eye, Jack saw Rosa heading their way with two large steaming plates in hand. “Here comes dinner.”

Rosa arrived with a big beaming smile. “For you, my Jack, penne and chilli tomatoes. And for your beautiful lady friend, meatballs in red wine sauce, no onion.”

Elle stared up at Rosa.

“I know it upsets you tummy.” Rosa patted Elle’s shoulder. “Enjoy. Let me know if you want anything else.”

The older woman walked away and Elle followed her with eyes so wide Jack thought they might fall out of her face. He laughed. “C’mon.” Picking up his fork he pointed to the plate in front of her. “Eat up before it gets cold.”

“But– But– How’d she know?” She turned her stunned gaze to him.

“Haven’t a clue.” He dug his fork into his food and grinned at Elle. “So what movies do you like?”

Elle wasn’t sure if it was the wine, the couch, or the company, but she was more relaxed than she remembered being in months. Bringing her glass to her lips, she took a sip of wine as the hunk on screen took his shirt off. She barely managed to swallow without choking. The guy was hot. Ripped muscles glistening with sweat…

She’d never admit to anyone the only reason she watched action flicks was for the eye candy. Better that everyone thought her testosterone-dominated childhood had developed a love of blow-’em-up, smash-’em-up movies.

“You want more wine?” Jack asked, indicating her almost empty glass.

“Mmm…” She thought about the
completely
empty bottle in the kitchen — then the one they’d left at the restaurant — and decided any more and she’d be crawling home. “Nah. I think I hit my limit three glasses ago.”

“You don’t have to drive anywhere.”

“No. But I
do
need to be able to operate my legs.” She leaned her head back and looked over at Jack. “At this point they’re feeling a little rubbery.”

He reached over and palmed her thigh. “Doesn’t feel rubbery.”

Heat shot through her. His hand was large and, placed on her leg like it was, demonstrated just how much bigger he was. He could cover a lot of skin with that hand. If he used both…

Obviously her reflexes were sluggish, drowned in wine as they were, because before she saw it coming, Jack was kissing her.

Kissing her until her toes curled.

Kissing her until her fingers curled in his shirt.

Kissing her until desire coiled hard and hot in her belly.

He knew what he was doing too. Knew when to push forward. When to retreat. And when to tangle his tongue with hers so there was nothing on her mind but him.

Desperate for air, she tore her mouth from his. Panting hard, her eyelids fluttered open, the skin and lashes suddenly too heavy for her to lift with any speed. When her gaze met Jack’s the need burning in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. “We said we weren’t going to sleep together.”

“No.
You
said we weren’t. And we’re not.”

“But—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “We’re just going to make out on the couch.”

If her mind hadn’t been so befuddled from that amazing kiss she might have argued. Except with the hot rush of arousal still zipping through her veins Elle could only nod.

He grinned before bending closer and taking her mouth with his again.

Elle wasn’t sure who moved first. Which one of them had twisted so they were lying on the couch — her pinned beneath him. Maybe they’d moved together. They seemed to be in sync. Their mouths mated in a natural rhythm while their hands explored above and below the barrier of cloth that separated them.

His skin was hot, smooth, the muscles beneath hard and rippling as she skimmed her hands up his back under his shirt. She pushed the material up and out of the way so she could touch every inch of him. And there were so many inches.

Jack moved his mouth from hers, trailed his lips over her cheek to her ear. “You keep going and we’ll be in trouble.”

Elle laughed. “From where I’m lying we’re already in trouble.” She raised her hips, pressed against the heated ridge of flesh constrained by his pants.

He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Fuck.”

Yeah. They were in serious trouble. But she’d meant what she said. She wouldn’t sleep with him tonight. As for tomorrow night or the one after… Well they’d just have to see.

“Okay. Let’s put the brakes on before we can’t.” Jack levered up on his hands, separating them from the waist up, except the action ground his cock into her sex and both of them shuddered and moaned. “And can’t is about half a second away.”

Leaping off the couch, he stood staring down at her through hooded eyes. His cheeks were a slash of red, his lips swollen and wet. Air sawed in and out of his nostrils, raising and lowering his chest in heavy rasps, while his hands fisted at his sides. The shirt she’d untucked hung in front of his zipper, but the erection he sported wasn’t hidden. His length and breadth were clearly visible.

Elle swallowed.

Like the rest of him, his cock was big. She’d bet a year’s salary it would be the biggest she’d seen and the need to get her hands on him surged through her. Her fingers flexed. Her pussy clenched. And her tongue slid across her dry lips.

“Stop.”

Her gaze darted up to meet his.

“Don’t look at me like you want to lick me.” He took a step backwards. “I’m trying really hard to abide by your decree. But there isn’t one part of me that doesn’t
know
I could change your mind in a split second.”

She didn’t say a word. There weren’t any. Jack was right and they both knew it.

“I’m going to make us coffee.” He strode from the room and Elle was pleased to see his steps weren’t all that even.

Drawing in a deep breath she puffed out her bottom lip and blew it out. The air cooled the sheen of sweat on her forehead and ruffled the strands of hair stuck to her face. “Jesus.”

If Jack hadn’t stopped, they’d be naked by now. She wasn’t ashamed to say she wouldn’t have stopped. But she was disappointed in herself for wanting one thing, but saying another. She wasn’t a prick tease. She’d never been the type to delude herself either. She really wanted to have sex with Jack. He had the potential to be the best she’d ever had, and she was obviously denying both of them by holding out.

Rolling to the side, Elle got to her feet and hoped her legs would hold. When they seemed to cooperate, she risked a couple of steps. When she didn’t end up crumpled on the floor, she walked towards the hallway and the bathroom.

She needed a splash of cold water on her face. Maybe a bucket of ice over her head.

The door stuck as she tried to push it open and no matter how hard she shoved against it, the stupid thing wouldn’t budge further than the three inches it was open. “Dammit.” She slapped the timber, making her hand sting.

“Use the bathroom off the main bedroom,” Jack called out from the kitchen. “I haven’t fixed that door yet.”

Great. Just what she didn’t need. She was trying to stop thinking about Jack and sex. Seeing his bedroom — his bed — would only remind her of what she’d purposely deprived them of out of some stupid fear left behind by a guy who didn’t deserve any more of her energy.

Anger rolled through her. She’d given Gavin her heart. She’d given him her trust. But worse than that, she’d given him power. Power to hurt her even after he’d walked away.

No more.

She was a grown woman in control of her mind and body, and if she wanted Jack she should have him.

* * *

Jack carried two mugs of steaming coffee to the living room and placed them on the upside down suitcase that served as a table. Elle hadn’t returned from the bathroom so he took a seat, grabbed the remote, and flicked through the channels while he waited. He stopped on a sports network that happened to be playing a motorcycle race. It wasn’t until he heard the commentator mention Roland that he realised it was the class Elle’s brother rode in.

“Hey, Elle,” he called over his shoulder. “Your brother’s on TV.”

She didn’t answer, but the race was so engrossing he sat on the edge of his seat. The bikes sped past the cameras, dipped low into the corners, jostled for position, and spun-off into the sand as they fought for the lead.

He cringed when a rider took a header over his bike, turning cartwheels in the air before landing with a thud, the bike barely missing him as it performed its own gymnastics routine and crashed into a wall. Both had to be travelling close to three hundred kilometres an hour.

“Shit. That’s gotta hurt.”

“What?” Elle asked behind him.

“Wait. They’re bound to replay it.” Jack used the remote to point at the screen.

Elle watched for a few second. “This is a rerun of last month’s race.”

“Did he win?” Jack asked.

“Ricky?” She nodded. “Yeah. But it was close. Only a bike-length in it.”

“Where is he in the standings?”

“He finished the season on top.” Elle dropped down beside him. “He’s determined to outdo Dad.”

“Tall order.” Jack couldn’t think of a harder task the guy could have set himself.

“The competitive gene lives on.” She reached towards the mugs. “Which one?”

“Left. Do you think he stands a chance?” Jack asked as he leaned over to grab his coffee.

Elle took a sip before answering. “Everyone’s got a shot, but I think Ricky has a better than most chance. He’d got Dad’s DNA for a start and the best damn coach in the world.” She grinned.

“Your dad’s helping him win?” Jack figured a good parent encouraged their children to succeed, but would someone as celebrated as Mark Roland want anyone, even if the guy was his own kid, beating his records?

“Ha! Dad wants the Roland name stamped so firmly on the record books that no other name appears.” Grinning, she shook her head. “He’ll probably get his wish too.”

“Yeah?” He liked the way she smiled when she talked about her family. Her eyes lit up and love seemed to pour off her like a tangible thing. Like you could reach out and touch it — hold it in your hands.