Dirty Sexy Sinner (19 page)

“He really does,” Tara assured Samantha, appreciating her efforts. “And he’s certainly not going to refuse a care package of pastries from you.”

Since her car was parked nearby, Tara put the desserts into her vehicle, then came back and linked her arm through Samantha’s as they walked toward the boutique.

“How are you feeling?” Tara asked. The other woman was glowing, but then again, Samantha was stunningly beautiful and always well put together, which was why Tara wanted her advice on an appropriate dress to wear.

“Much better now that the first trimester is out of the way,” she admitted as she placed her hand on the taut swell of her stomach. “My morning sickness is gone, thank God, but now my hormones are wreaking havoc with my sex drive. I want it
all
the time. Every morning, every night, and oh, my God, the orgasms are so freakin’ intense.” She blushed.

“Lucky Clay,” Tara teased as she opened the door for Samantha.

“Yeah, he’s more than accommodating,” she said cheerfully as she slipped past Tara, then added with a naughty twinkle in her eyes, “He says it’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”

“Yeah, what a hardship,” Tara said humorously.

They strolled into the shop, the clothing more unique and upscale compared to where Tara normally bought her clothes. Definitely more catered to Samantha’s previous kind of lifestyle, before she’d walked away from her family’s wealth for the man she loved. Clay had more than enough money to buy anything Samantha’s heart desired, but her wants and needs were simple and revolved around her husband, and now the baby they were going to have.

Tara came to a stop beside Samantha as the other woman eyed a mannequin wearing a sexy red dress with a plunging neckline. Her fingers touched the silky-looking material as she glanced at Tara.

“So, what are we looking for today?” she asked curiously. “Sophisticated or slutty?”

Tara laughed. “Definitely sophisticated. It’s a huge gala to celebrate the firm’s twenty-fifth anniversary, and it’s being held at the Bridgeport Art Center.”

Samantha raised an impressed brow. “Wow. Very swanky.”

“I know,” Tara breathed anxiously. “When I looked the place up on the Internet, I almost had a bona fide panic attack.” It hadn’t helped matters that Jackson told her there would probably be over four hundred people in attendance—from employees to clients to business associates in the industry.

“Really?” Samantha asked in surprise as she strolled to another dress hanging on a nearby rack—a black gown with gold trim that was too somber for Tara’s tastes. “Why are you so nervous?”

Clearly, hanging out at grand, extravagant places like the Bridgeport Art Center was no big deal for someone like Samantha, who’d grown up in the lap of luxury and had attended events in the poshest and trendiest venues in the city. Tara, however, had not. In fact, she was certain she was going to be etiquette challenged compared to all the other cultured women present at the highfalutin party.

Tara tried to explain her apprehension. “Well, other than the art center being one of the most lavish places in the city, I’m sure I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb and look completely out of place.”

“No, you’re not.” Samantha flashed her a confident smile. “That’s why I’m here to help you.”

“I’m meeting his bosses and colleagues for the first time, and I’d really like to make a good impression,” she added, hating that her insecurities were getting the best of her, that her troubled past was messing with her head and instilling doubts.

She and Jackson had existed for the past five weeks in their own little bubble, surrounded by
her
friends and the people in
her
life. Everything had been easy and comfortable and familiar for
her
. This was the first time she was stepping outside of her safety zone with Jackson and into the sophisticated world in which he lived, including meeting influential co-workers, important friends, and clients who respected him as a man and architect. So yes, she was a bit frazzled by it all.

Samantha stopped perusing the store and turned to face Tara to give her her full attention. “Trust me,” she said, her gaze soft and earnest as she squeezed one of Tara’s hands. “By the time we’re done here and we discuss your hair and makeup, you are going to look like a million bucks. No one will see you as anything other than the beautiful, stunning, woman on Jackson’s arm. I promise.”

Tara nodded, wanting to believe her friend. On the outside, she had no doubt that she’d look the part, but on the inside, she was still that young girl who’d been addicted to drugs and had overdosed, and a woman who feared she wasn’t good enough for a successful man like Jackson.

“I just don’t want to embarrass Jackson,” she whispered, getting to the truth of the matter.

“Oh, honey, that’s not possible,” Samantha said in the sweetest, most genuine tone imaginable. “You are an amazing woman, and
he’s
going to be the luckiest man at the gala with you by his side.”

Tara appreciated Samantha’s pep talk, and it made her realize that in order for Jackson to feel like that fortunate man at the gala who was proud to be with her, it all hinged on Tara’s attitude and disposition. She needed to beat back her nerves and embrace the strong, confident, fearless woman she’d evolved into because of Jackson’s influence.

He believed in her and wanted her there, and she was going to do everything in her power to make sure he didn’t regret having her on his arm.

J
ackson couldn’t stop
staring at the most stunning woman at the party, and the fact that she was his date made him one hell of a lucky son of a bitch.

An hour into the reception part of the gala, and Tara was charming the pants off one of his clients, George Weber, a gentleman in his late seventies who owned a media firm and enjoyed mixed drinks. Jackson also knew that man enjoyed beautiful women—he’d been married four times and joked about finding a fifth wife. It didn’t escape Jackson’s notice that Weber had been completely captivated by Tara from the moment Jackson had introduced them.

Hell, there wasn’t a man in the place who hadn’t given her a second look, even if it was a subtle glance in her direction while their girlfriends or wives weren’t paying attention. Jackson couldn’t blame them. She was wearing a gorgeous, dark purple, calf-length dress that was sexy yet classy. Sexy because it molded to her curves, highlighting her full breasts and perfect ass. Classy because there was nothing blatant about what it revealed. The sheer stockings encasing her slender legs intrigued him, made him wonder where they ended and what else she was wearing beneath the dress. And the strappy stiletto heels on her feet . . . Jesus, they inspired all sorts of dirty fantasies, and he couldn’t wait to fuck her in them later.

And her silky, shiny black hair . . . he preferred it down because he liked having those soft strands tangling around his hands, but there was something so provocative about seeing it in an intricate, upswept style that left her shoulders bare and exposed her slender neck. The pearls around her throat that she’d borrowed from Samantha, along with a matching cuff bracelet, completed the elegant, sophisticated look.

When he’d arrived to pick her up at her place, she’d been about to remove the diamond stud above her lip because she’d been worried that it wasn’t appropriate in such an upscale setting, that some people might make not-so-nice assumptions about her based on an unconventional type of piercing.

His response to that concern of hers?
“I don’t give a damn what other people think. I don’t want you to hide anything about yourself, and I fucking love that piercing, so it stays.”

She hadn’t looked one hundred percent convinced, but she’d left the diamond in place, even though he knew just how difficult that had been for her to do.

When he’d first mentioned taking her to the gala, she’d admitted that being in such a luxurious environment made her nervous. That she was worried about fitting in, of people taking one look at her and judging her. That she’d mess up and say or do something that would embarrass him. So far, all she’d done was impress the hell out of Jackson with her willingness to try, while trusting that he’d be right there to support her.

After George had gallantly kissed the back of Tara’s hand, he’d asked what she did for work. Because Jackson had his hand touching her lower back, he’d felt the slight stiffening of her body that told him she was uncomfortable admitting she was a bartender when it was obvious that most of the ladies at the gala were either high-powered career women or wealthy trophy wives. But the moment she’d answered George—very confidently, Jackson was proud to say—the other man had been fascinated, and a conversation about all his favorite liquors and cocktails had ensued.

Currently, they were bantering back and forth as George tried to stump Tara with an alcoholic beverage she’d never heard of before. Most were old-timers’ drinks, and so far Tara was holding her own. While Jackson had never heard of a Whiskey Smash, a Rusty Nail, or a Sidecar, Tara rattled off the ingredients like a pro, and George was impressed with her knowledge.

Jackson introduced Tara to the owners of Schmidt and Kramer, along with the other partners and their wives, who were all gracious and welcoming. With over four hundred people in attendance, the venue was full, and mingling was difficult, but with Tara’s hand tucked securely in his arm, Jackson tried to make the rounds to say hello to as many of his clients and colleagues as he could.

They sat through a five-course dinner, chatted with the other guests at their table, and listened to a speech the owners of the company made expressing their appreciation to their employees and clients, acknowledging their commitment to the industry, and sharing their goals to expand into a more global marketplace. Afterward, Jackson pulled Tara out to the dance floor just so he had time alone with her and could hold her close during a slow song. He wrapped an arm around her waist and tucked one of her hands against his chest, right over the heart that was quickly becoming hers.

He knew it was a huge statement, but five weeks with Tara had given him a renewed outlook on his life. He’d gone from being a man who’d felt like an outcast to feeling as though he’d finally found the one person who filled the emptiness inside him that he’d carried his entire life. She understood his past struggles and his pain, because she’d been there herself and knew what it was like being an outsider in her own family. She complemented him in every way that mattered, and because of Tara, he finally felt as though he was exactly where he belonged, with the person he was truly meant to be with.

Life was good and he couldn’t have been more content or satisfied personally or professionally. But it was in perfect moments like this that a small, contrary part of Jackson’s subconscious reminded him that nothing good in his life lasted forever. And it was that deeply instilled fear that kept him from telling Tara how he truly felt about her. That he loved her, more than he’d ever believed he could love another person. That she alone made him feel whole and complete.

He was so fucking afraid that everything would disappear if he spoke the words out loud, that this happiness he’d finally found with her, and with his brothers, would vanish and he’d be left picking up the pieces all over again. His entire life had been that way, a sequence of unexpected disappointments and realizing that nothing had ever been as it had seemed. Just when he was confident and hopeful about his future, as he was right now, that other proverbial shoe dropped and kicked him in the ass.

But fuck . . . he desperately wanted this time around with Tara to be different. But the thought of potentially losing her kept him from saying the words that had the ability to change everything between them. Not knowing if that declaration would alter their relationship for the better or worse was what held him back.

“Hey, if you squeeze me any tighter, I’m not going to be able to breathe,” Tara said, her voice soft and laced with humor.

Jesus, he hadn’t realized he was crushing her body to his, that deep-seated fear manifesting its way into his reality. “Sorry,” he muttered on a harsh exhale, and loosened his hold around her waist so that his hand rested on the curve of her hip.

She tipped her head to the side, her gaze suddenly concerned as she searched his face. “Is everything okay? You seem tense all of a sudden.”

He forced himself to relax and smiled at her. “Everything is fine,” he promised, and deliberately shoved all those dismal thoughts from his head to focus on the here and now and the woman in his arms. “How are
you
doing?”

“I’m doing great.”

She returned his smile, but Jackson knew her changing expressions well enough by now to know that beneath her upbeat reply, she was overwhelmed by the evening’s festivities. After nearly four hours of mingling, being introduced to dozens of people, and making polite chitchat, he suspected she was pretty close to her limit. Hell,
he
was exhausted and decided after the song ended, it was time for them to go. He was done sharing her tonight.