If You Can't Stand the Heat... (Harlequin Kiss) (16 page)

He hadn’t lied to Ellie—he
hadn’t
connected with the story or the atmosphere in Kenya and that worried him—but he certainly hadn’t told her the whole truth. How could he? How could he explain to her that he’d spent his days in Kenya missing her, thinking about her? He’d never allowed anyone to distract him from the job at hand, yet she had. He’d be walking the streets, seeing an old man whittling away at a piece of wood, and he’d think Ellie would crouch down next to him and demand to know what he was creating. He’d drink his morning coffee at the hotel and wish he was standing on her veranda, watching the endless blues and greens of the sea.

His nights were a combination of fantasy and frustration, thinking about what he wanted to do to and with her amazing body.

When he’d seen her on the wall that afternoon he’d come back his thumping heart had settled, sighed. And he’d known he had the potential to fall deeper and deeper in trouble. Emotional trouble.

He’d known her for only days and she’d stirred up all these weird feelings inside him. Why? What was it about her that made him feel as if he’d stepped outside of himself? He could talk to her. He wanted to talk to her. Take this evening, for example. He would never have spoken to any of his previous girlfriends like that...hell, he’d barely
spoken
to them. He’d just flown in from wherever, climbed into bed, kept said girlfriend in bed until he needed to leave and then left. He didn’t know how to act as part of a couple on an on-going basis, and before he’d landed in Cape Town he’d never come close to being tied down by anyone or anything. He excelled in saying goodbye and never looking back. He’d had a second chance at life and he’d made a promise to live it hard, because he’d always believed it would be an injustice to live a small life...to confine himself to a humdrum job...to be shackled by a house or a lover.

His beliefs, so firmly held for so long, were starting to waver.

And that was why he’d scuttled out of Ellie’s house last week. He hadn’t needed to go to Kenya but it had been a damn good excuse to put some distance between them.

Jack stopped and, breathing heavily, placed his hands on his hips. In the low light of the sodium streetlights he stared out to the breaking waves as clouds scuttled across the moon. Little in life made sense any more... He could easily have gone back to London after Kenya but he’d headed south instead. What was happening to him?

He’d been shot, beaten up and stabbed. He’d sneaked behind enemy lines, walked into the compounds of drug cartels, through whorehouses filled with the dregs of humanity who’d slit his throat just for the fun of it—just to get a story. He’d seen the worst of what people could do to each other and yet he’d never felt fear like this before...

He was terrified he was becoming emotionally involved with her—would do practically anything to stop that happening. Ellie had hit the nail squarely in one of their many conversations; he was an observer, not a participator. Involvement with her would require a decision, taking a stand for her, sticking around, partaking in a life together.

He didn’t want to do that—wasn’t ready to do that. Wouldn’t do that. He needed to find some perspective, reconnect with his beliefs, reaffirm his values. Jack nodded at the sea. He had to make sure that he kept some emotional distance, guarded against any deepening of their relationship. It was the sensible decision—hell, it was the only decision.

And while he was making major decisions he really needed to decide what he was going to do about Brent’s memorial service. Go or not? He was starting to feel that he needed to, that he needed to honour Brent, to say thank you for the gift of his life. But would seeing him make the Sandersons’ day worse? Would being there deepen the guilt he felt?

Maybe he shouldn’t go.

Jack swore as he resumed running. This was why it was better not to examine his thoughts and emotions too closely. It just confused him. And, talking about being confused, what had Ellie meant when she’d said she had thought that he was angry with her? Why would she think that?

Jack intended to find out.

EIGHT

Jack pounded up
the steps and flung open her bedroom door. He knew she wouldn’t be asleep and she wasn’t. She was sitting up in bed, working on her computer. Didn’t she ever give work a rest?

‘Why are you working?’ he demanded crossly.

‘I’m not. I’m catching up with friends.’

‘At one in the morning?’

‘Excuse me, at least
I’m
not the one running after midnight!’ Ellie closed the lid of her computer and tapped her finger against it. ‘Did you just burst in here to give me a hard time generally or was there a specific reason?’

Jack walked into the room and stood at the end of her bed. ‘You said that you thought I was mad at you. Why, Ellie?’

Ellie plucked the sheet with her fingers and felt her face flaming in the dim light of her lamp. ‘It’s not important.’

Jack sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on her knee. ‘I think it might be. Talk to me, El.’

Ellie shook her head and placed her computer on her bedside table. ‘Jack, it really doesn’t matter since you haven’t made any...since we’re not...’

‘Sleeping together?’ Jack sounded puzzled. ‘Are you upset that I’m
not
sleeping with you?’

‘Yes...no. I don’t know. I thought you’d changed your mind about...me.’

Jack’s expression was pure confusion. ‘Let me try and decode that from girl-speak. Firstly, I couldn’t run out of your house, not call you, then come back and expect to jump into bed with you. I thought we needed some time, and I’ve been dealing with all this other crap, so...’ Jack rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I changed my mind...? Hold on a sec—did you think that I didn’t want to sleep with you? Why on earth wouldn’t I want to sleep with you?’

‘Good grief, Jack, you can’t expect me to verbalise it!’ Ellie cried.

‘Well, if you want me to understand what’s going on in that crazy head of yours,
yes
! Because I am lost!’

‘I wasn’t any good and it couldn’t have been much fun for you,’ Ellie mumbled. ‘And I backed off midway.’

There was a long silence and Ellie felt Jack staring at her head. When he eventually spoke Ellie could hear the regret in his voice.

‘Have you been worried about that since I left?’

‘Mmm.’

Jack swore. ‘And I left here with a rocket on my tail, not even thinking... Dammit!’

Ellie looked up at him. ‘So you weren’t mad that I said no?’

‘Disappointed? Yes. Cross? Absolutely not.’

‘Oh.’

Jack played with her fingers. ‘Why
did
you stop, by the way? What happened?’

‘My brain started a running commentary as soon as we got to my bedroom. I started to second-guess what we were doing—what I was doing. And whether I was getting it right.’

Jack cradled her cheek with his hand. ‘Making love is not a test to be graded, sweetheart. Come on—cough it up. What else were you worrying about?’

‘Whether I was enough for you. Whether I was practiced enough. Cellulite...other crazy girl stuff.’ Ellie stared at a point beyond his shoulder.

‘You don’t have a centimetre of cellulite, and if you do I
so
don’t care. And if we’re trading thoughts about that night then I should tell you that I’m sorry if I went too fast for you. I’d thought about having you so many times, in so many ways...and I guess I was nervous too.’

‘Why were you nervous? You’ve had lots of sex before.’

‘Yes, but I’ve never had sex with
you
!’ Jack exclaimed. ‘What? I’m not allowed to be nervous? I finally get the girl I’ve been fantasising about in bed and suddenly I’m a stud? It doesn’t work like that, Ellie. The first time you make love to someone it’s
always
the first time. I’m also worried about pleasing you. It never works out perfectly. We don’t know each other’s bodies, what the other person likes and/or doesn’t like. It falls into place with time.’

Ellie continued to stare at her bedclothes.

‘Sweetheart, I really need you to talk to me, to tell me what you’re thinking,’ Jack said quietly, his voice persuasive.

Ellie lifted her head and looked at him with sad eyes. ‘Thank you for that—for saying all of that. And you’re probably right. We just need time.’

‘Exactly.’

Ellie held his gaze. ‘But we have a problem. By my calculations, and from everything you’ve told me, you’re staying another week at the most. Then you’ll leave...probably around about the time we can start making mountains move. So my two questions are: how fair would that be to either of us? And, really, what would be the point?’

‘It doesn’t have to be love, Ellie. It doesn’t have to be for ever. It can just be two people who are attracted to each other giving each other pleasure and company. The point can be...’ Jack encircled her neck with his hand and smoothed his thumb over the tendons in her neck ‘...this.’

He touched the corner of her mouth with his.

‘So sweet. Spicy.’ He stroked her jaw and placed his lips on the spot between her jaw and her ear. ‘Soft. The point can be that I think you have the most beautiful skin.’

Jack moved and dropped his other hand onto her bottom. In a movement that was as smooth as it was sexy, he pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled his thighs.

As sparks bolted down her inner thighs Ellie dimly remembered that she had to be pressing on his knife wound and tried to scramble off him. Jack’s hand on her thighs kept her firmly in place.

‘Nuh-uh—where are you going? I like you here,’ he said.

‘Your cut,’ Ellie protested, her head dropping so that their noses were practically touching.

‘I’m fine and you feel great,’ Jack informed her, lifting his head to nibble on her mouth. ‘I love your mouth...’ he murmured. ‘Love your eyes...fantastic skin...’

He lifted his hands from her thighs and placed them on her chest, holding the weight of her breasts in his hands. Ellie moaned as he thumbed her nipples into gloriously sensitive peaks.

‘As for these...these are simply a point of their own.’

Ellie couldn’t find any words, was drenched in the wet heat of his voice. She arched her back and rolled her neck as she pushed into his hands seeking more.

‘You are so beautiful...’ Jack dropped his hands down to her waist.

She shook her hair out and it spilled down her chest, over her brief tank top. Jack leaned back and just looked at her, his caress as bold as his eyes.

‘Take it off,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘Let me look at you.’

Somewhere in some place deep inside her Ellie knew that she should probably say no, that she should climb off his lap and be sensible, but instead she arched her back, pulled her shirt over her head and held the garment in place against her chest. She hadn’t thought it was possible for Jack’s eyes to darken with passion, but they did and she saw his jaw clench.

She felt feminine and powerful and wondrously, wickedly wanton.

‘You’re killing me here, woman,’ Jack growled and he lifted his hand to yank the shirt away. His nostrils flared as he took in her creamy skin now flushed with arousal. He held her face in his hands. ‘Trust me, El. I’m going to show you exactly what the point of this is...’

* * *

Ellie walked into the bedroom from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel from waist to mid-thigh and towel-drying her hair. She looked from the clock to Jack, who was lying crossways across the bed, spread out on his stomach. ‘We’ve wasted a good portion of the morning.’

‘Hush your mouth, wench. A morning in bed is never wasted,’ Jack said as he stood up and stretched. He was totally self-confident about his body and he had a right to be, Ellie thought. Apart from the nasty scar on his chest, he was perfect.

‘How did you get that scar?’ Ellie asked.

Jack lifted his hand up to his chest and immediately turned away. ‘Operation.’

Ellie rubbed the ends of her hair between the folds of the towel. ‘What operation?’

Jack walked past her and swatted her backside. ‘The one I had in hospital.’

He stepped into the
en-suite
bathroom and Ellie heard water hitting the shower door. Well, that had gone well.
Not.
Obviously his scar-causing operation was not up for discussion. Ellie wondered why not. It couldn’t be that big a deal, surely?

Jack raised his voice. ‘This is such a waste of water...you should’ve let me shower with you.’

Ellie smiled at herself in the dressing table mirror. ‘I couldn’t trust you not to have your wicked way with me again.’

She’d thought about yanking him into the shower with her but she didn’t think she could stand another bout of that sweet, sweet torture. Or maybe she could—in an hour or two, when all her nerve-endings had subsided slightly.

‘You like my wicked ways.’ Jack’s voice was chock-full of self-satisfaction.

‘I do? How can you tell?’

‘Well, I think your begging was a huge hint,’ Jack said dryly, before she heard the shower door open and close.

Ellie pulled fresh underwear out of her dresser drawer and quickly slipped into a matching aqua-green set. White shorts and a pretty floral top were perfect for a day to be spent at home...she had to stock up on cleaning products and dog food, spend some time on the internet paying personal bills, and she needed to finalise the arrangements for Jess’s bachelorette party.

Maybe after that she could persuade Jack back into bed...

Jess! Jess and Luke! Oh,
man
! She’d forgotten that she was having lunch with them. She picked up her watch from the dresser and cursed again. She had barely ten minutes before they were due to pick her up. This was Jack’s fault and his ability to make her forget everything when his clever hands were anywhere near her body.

Ellie stomped over to the bathroom and looked into the steam to the stunning body beyond. Tight buns, broad chest, a nice package.... A very nice package that knew exactly what it was doing....
Concentrate, Ellie!

‘Jack?’

Jack, his head full of shampoo, turned around and lifted one eyebrow. ‘Changed your mind? C’mon in. I’ll wash your back.’