Keep You (8 page)

             
And walked straight into Tam.

             
Jo tripped over her own feet and he caught her by the forearms, setting her back a step, a soft, easy smile taunting her.

             
“You in a hurry?”

             
He looked so relaxed, so sincerely sweet and concerned…and so damn hot in his black pants, black button-up and bright red tie, that for a moment, Jo thought she might let herself backslide into that mental place where she thought Tam walked on water. But then she remembered the way he’d been back in the reception hall with his date and glowered at him, snatching her arms away.

             
“No.”

             
“So just clumsy then.” His smile widened, oblivious to her dark mood.

             
“That’s nice.” Jo snorted. “Add insult to injury how ‘bout it.” She tried to side-step him, but he caught her elbow in a firm grip.

             
“Jo.” When she glared up into his face, she couldn’t believe how honestly confused he looked. He was a damn good actor. “What’s the matter?”

             
Coy women,
real
women, like the glamorous brunette in the black dress, would hint and pout and let him figure it out. But Jo felt too wounded to play games.

             
“Maybe you should be worried about
the girl you came with
instead of me.” She wrenched her arm free and stormed off.

             
She had a half a second head start before she heard him coming after her and in her heels, she couldn’t outdistance him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said as he caught her arm and spun her around. A dark spike of hair fell onto his forehead as he loomed over her. His eyes were a flashing, vivid blue. “What’s with the attitude? Is this about Tiffany? Are you
jealous
?”

             
“Tiffany. That’s original.”

             
“Jo.” He gave her a light shake. “Are you serious right now?”

             
She glared at him.

             
Tam sighed. “Come on.” He started trying to tow her down the hall. “Come on,” he repeated and she followed, arms folded, only once he’d turned loose of her.

             
Halfway back to the reception there was another, identical ballroom on the opposite side of the hall and he led her into it, closing the door behind her. The lights were off, but a bank of windows on the far wall, their blinds closed, generated a vivid glow so they stood in an empty, cavernous hall of twilight. Chairs were stacked against the front wall and Tam pulled two out and situated them across from each other. He straddled one backward and indicated she should sit in the other. Jo did, tucking the skirt of her dress in around her knees, hating the look he was giving her: like a disappointed teacher inviting an unruly student in for a conference about her behavior.

             
Tam braced his elbows on the back of the chair and locked his eyes with hers. Again, she marveled at the expression in them, the wonder and disbelief. “You’re jealous?” he asked. “Joey,
you’re
jealous?”

             
She made a face. “I don’t want to be. I’m just as pissed as you to find out I’m a total female.”

             
“I’m not pissed.”

             
“But you don’t want me to be jealous,” she bit back. “Isn’t that what every man wants? More than one woman after him?”

             
“Ugh.” He rubbed both hands down his face. “Shit.”

             
Jo thought that was the perfect word to describe what she felt like in this moment. She started to stand and he waved for her to hold.

             
“Calm down,” he sighed. “Just…” He wiped his face again. “I’m sorry, Jo. I should have known.”

             
Should have known? What, like she’d become this crazy, jealous bitch whose fits of temper were predictable? She was embarrassed, angry, hurt, and getting sucked into a downward spiral of emotions that kept pulling her deeper into a black mood. “You should have known?” she said with a disbelieving laugh. “Why, because I’ve turned into some sex-crazed monster stalker?”

             
Saying it aloud, calling herself out, had a sobering effect. “Oh, God.” She stood, a hand going to her flushed cheek, shame washing over her. “I’m sorry, I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that. We’re just friends and I…”

             
Unable to finish, a lump the size of a fist forming in her throat, she turned toward the door.

             
Tam’s hand circled around her wrist, not holding her there, but touching, grounding her as sure as if he’d handcuffed her to him. When she met his eyes, they were still confused, still pained in a way, and a sharp pang of guilt twisted her stomach. Tam was frustrated too – she’d seen it shining in his face even out in the hall – and he wasn’t that good of an actor; his façade would have cracked by now.

             
“
I’m
sorry,” he said, his voice soft, low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

             
“I’m not hurt,” she lied.

             
His sad smile turned her insides to mush. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the thin tracery of veins visible beneath her skin. “We’re friends.”

             
Jo felt herself nod.

             
“Mike and I are friends.”

             
“Mike - ”

             
“Would never understand.”

             
She knew it was true. “He’s an asshole.”

             
His smile stretched, but then receded. “I love your family and you’re all so good to me. I care.” He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, his eyes moved away from her, finding a spot on the wall. “I care a lot about you, Jo. Okay? I do. I’m there for you and I’d do anything for you.”

             
“And I appreciate all of that,” Jo said quickly, pulse picking up, thumping in her ears. “You’re a part of my family, Tam, you really are. But that doesn’t change the fact that I
want
you.”

             
His eyes closed. He swallowed again. His hand tightened on her wrist.

             
“I know you don’t…want me…” She thought of the brunette, sitting in the reception, waiting on him, wondering where he’d gone. “But I had to tell you. I’m a shit liar.”

             
His eyes opened, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, he drew in a deep, shaken breath. “You’re killing me here,” he muttered, “you know that?”

             
“I thought I was tougher than this,” she continued to be apologetic, assuming she was “killing him” with her simpering. “But I…” she trailed off when his head tipped back and his eyes found hers: wide, the perfect shade of blue, clear and deep, warm and inviting, like diving into the crystalline waters of the Bahamas.

             
“Really killing me,” he said, and his hand slid down to capture hers, his much larger fingers lacing between hers.

             
Jo sucked in a breath.

             
God, she’d been stupid.

             
Here he’d been trying to tell her…

             
She wanted to touch his hair, had dreamed about it, and except for a few football tackle situations when they’d been years younger, she never had. So she raked the fingers of her free hand through the thick, slippery darkness of it and felt him lean into her touch.

             
Her heartbeat tripled.

             
“Tam…can’t we?” She wasn’t even sure what she was asking, whether she wanted him to tell her outright that his heart was thundering in his chest too, or if she wanted him to show her that it was.

             
He stood, stepped around the chair, pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

             
It was a deep, hungry, urgent kiss, more fervent than the one before in his car. His lips forced hers apart and he teased the underside of her tongue with the ring in his. He invaded her mouth. One hand was tangled in her hair and the other was at the small of her back, pressing her to him. Jo flattened her palms against his ribs and felt his pulse through his skin and shirt. Felt his muscles clench. She breathed through her nose and gasped between kisses, loving the sounds their lips made as they came apart again and again.

             
Jo didn’t want it to stop. She knew that if he let go of her, she’d collapse in a boneless heap at his feet. She clung to him, cracked her jaw wide and invited the plunging insistence of his tongue.

             
His hand slid down from her back, over her ass, and she gasped against his mouth. His resulting chuckle echoed against the back of her throat. He pulled her close, bringing her hips to his.

             
His other hand shifted to the column of her throat, her head kicking back, lips offered to him shamelessly as he stroked her pulse point. He went lower, hand spanning her clavicle, fingers touching the bare flesh at the base of her throat. He cupped her breast and his thumb slipped inside the flimsy, insufficient fabric of the top of her dress. Jo had a wild vision of herself reaching up and undoing the ribbon that held the halter-top in place, of him peeling the dress down to her waist.

             
His tongue ring…
certain things
…

             
They both groaned when he broke away from her and rested his forehead against hers. He kissed the end of her nose and put both his hands firmly on her shoulders.

             
“You’ve got no idea,” he said in a breathless voice, “how much I wanna keep you, Joanna Walker. No idea.”

             
When he lifted his head, Jo saw the truth of that statement in his eyes and nodded, sighing, still flushed all over and wanting more, but understanding; things couldn’t go any further, at least not now. He didn’t want to jeopardize things with the family, and though that disappointed her, she could find logic in his reasoning.

             
They stared at one another a long moment, not speaking. “You good?” he asked at last.

             
“Better.”

             
He let go of her, stepped back and straightened his tie. Raked a hand through his hair. “People will notice we’re gone.”

             
“Yeah.” She could feel the moment slipping away. The heat and excitement were fading, guilt and self-consciousness creeping in to take their places. Jo couldn’t really believe she’d been so bold.

             
“Alright.” Tam fiddled with his red tie again. “You go back first and I’ll slip in a couple minutes later.”

             
Jo patted her hair back into place and nodded; definitely better not to be seen together. She gave him one last once-over, committing yet another vision of him to memory, and turned for the door.

             
She paused, though, glancing back over her shoulder. “Hey, Tam?”

             
“Huh?”

             
“I hate your date.”

             
His laughter was a sharp crack of sound that echoed in the empty room. “You haven’t even met her!” he chuckled.

             
She shrugged, tipped her nose up in a fake display of haughtiness, and headed back for the reception.

             
The rest of the night, as her brothers and mother pulled her to the dance floor, as she celebrated her sister, she fought the occasional tug of the green-eyed monster with one phrase:

             
You’ve got no idea how bad I wanna keep you.

10

Now

             
“I apologize, ma’am, and I’ll get right on that.”

             
“I don’t need ‘right on that’! I need an immediate solution! If you can’t fix this over the phone
now
, then put me on the line with your manager, you little punk!”

             
Tam sighed. “Hold please.” He put the bitch on hold and then patched her through to his manager, finding some solace in the knowledge that it would take a good fifteen minutes for Harvey to get to her grievances. When he cradled the receiver, he scrubbed both hands down his face, the whole thing feeling numb and stiff.