Naked Hope (12 page)

He eyed her over the rim of his tequila—his fourth shot since arriving at the remote little sports bar and restaurant just under an hour ago.

“You said seven o’clock—in the restaurant—where I’ve been waiting. Now I find you, sitting at the bar.” She eyed the haphazard array of empty shot glasses clustered in front of him. “And from the looks of things, you’ve been here long enough to do some damage.” She tipped her head a bit and swept him with a heavy-lidded glance. “You'll be nursing one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“I tell you what, Ade,” His tongue felt thick.
Maybe the shots were having an effect after all
. “You stick to your job, and I'll—I’ll take care of my end of things.”

“You'd be smart to do just that,” Adrienne snapped, taking his hand. “Let’s get you away from this bar. It’s a little too public for your current condition.”

Gavin jerked away his hand. “I’m fine here.”

“You’re fine until someone recognizes you.”

He glanced around. Only a half-dozen or so people sat nearby, but even a remote place like this would likely fill up as the evening progressed. “’Kay,” he agreed, stumbling behind her as she led the way to a back booth in the darkest corner of the bar. Gavin dumped his keys, phone, and drink down on the scarred table.

Adrienne’s mouth thinned and brows lowered. “You get any work done?”

Her gaze reminded him of a hawk He shifted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I may have.”

Adrienne sighed and chased a coaster with her fingers. “Still blocked?

Gavin’s head jerked.

Her gaze narrowed. “You thought I didn’t know? When will you learn you can’t hide anything from me? I thought all that business last week with the infamous Dr. Cole would take care of things. She fixes the child and by some miracle you’re fixed, right?”

Gavin stiffened. “Careful, Adrienne. You only think you know what you’re talking about. ‘Sides, why talk about all that.” He spread his arms wide and leaned back, allowing his gaze to settle on Adrienne’s breasts, prominently displayed in a sweater so tight it looked as though she’d had it sprayed on.

Her right brow arched and her gaze hardened. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Knock it off, Ade. You’ve never been the nurturing kind.” He grinned.

“No?” She tossed her hair and drummed her fingers, staring.

He leaned forward still grinning. “You like taking prisoners. The attitude works for you. You should stick to that.”

Adrienne slid her fingers along her neckline.

His gaze followed.

She smiled and dipped two fingers under the edge of her sweater, loosening the top button, already straining under the snug fit, until it popped.

He blinked.

She laughed. “You see there, Gavin, this is so much more fun. I hate it when we argue. Besides, haven’t I always kept your best interests in mind

”

“And yours,” he snorted. “Mostly yours.”

Adrienne kept talking. “…and if I wasn’t taking care of you, if I let the press get the best of you, or wasn’t effective handling the fiasco with your newest work still incomplete—”

“We’d be over,” he snarled, his jaw ticking.

“But, you're not really angry with me, are you darling?” she murmured, her breasts nuzzling the table top.

“If I was, I’m not now.”

A red lacquered lamp hung low over their table. Adrienne took her napkin and used it to protect her fingers as she unscrewed the bulb. Only the candlelight remained. She tossed her head and glanced around, her breasts rising above her low-cut bra.

The words of an obscure poem about the way a woman’s breasts speak to a man conquering all language barriers floated back. He grinned, waiting
. How far would she go?

Adrienne leaned back and undid the bottom two buttons of her sweater. Only the middle button held her sweater together.

Gavin tossed back his shot.

A sly look crossed her face and she called over the waitress. “Another shot with a beer chaser for my friend here, and I’ll have a pomegranate martini.” When the waitress returned, Adrienne flipped her a fifty and winked. “Maybe this will buy us a little privacy.”

Adrienne sipped at her martini, fingering the last button of her sweater until it sprang free exposing Adrienne’s generous breasts. “More?” she asked.

Gavin tossed down the shot and chased it with half his beer. He rolled his shoulder and intended to say, “it’s entirely up to you,” but his words sounded more like “shup too.”

Her eyes glittered. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She unhooked the clasp but held her bra closed with one finger.

Gavin sat, rooted, eyes wide.

She let go of her bra, but crossed her arms over her exposed skin.

Holy Christ!
Gavin slugged the rest of his beer.

Adrienne shifted her hold so that only one arm covered her breasts and downed her martini. She smiled and let her arms drop.

Gavin gulped his beer.

She took a couple pomegranate seeds from her martini and massaged the juice into her nipples, watching him watch her, while she licked her fingers. After a moment, she kicked off a shoe, slid her toes up the length of his leg, and kneaded his crotch.

Gavin groaned and leaned back.

“We’ve been flirting with the idea of us off and on for a lifetime. You ready to finally do this thing, baby?” She winked and ran her tongue over her lower lip.

Watching the hypnotic sway of her breasts, he made no effort to answer.

“I have an idea.” She picked up his phone, leaned in, slid her arm around his neck, and drew him close. “Smile.”

The flash surprised him. He blinked. Had she really just taken a photo of herself? Naked?

“Come on, baby, let’s get out of here.” With quick twists, she buttoned a couple of buttons and captured his hand.

They walked to the car as stars emerged in the dark sky. He leaned against Adrienne, allowing her to shoulder most of his weight. At her car, Gavin removed the keys from her hand. His fingers lingered. “Let me.” He clicked the lock then swung in Adrienne’s direction, grinning as if he’d done something momentous. He might be over his limit, and he might be an ass, but he could still unlock a woman’s door.

Adrienne peeled back her sweater, seized the front of his open jacket, and tugged. Her gaze met his for just a moment before she tipped back her head and opened her mouth to his.

He felt no tenderness toward her, but he’d take what she had so many times offered. Her lips were hot, expert but they lacked Jill’s kindness. He couldn’t help that his mind locked onto Jill. He tried to lose himself in Adrienne. He captured her hands and swung her up against the car.

She gave a throaty laugh, her eyes like slits.

Not Jill’s eyes
. He let them drop suddenly and stepped back.

Her face shifted from pleasure to indignation

“Another time,” he told her with a disparaging smile, and headed in the direction he sincerely hoped would take him to his car. In the distance, he recognized his black BMW. He patted his pockets until he located his keys, clicked the lock, and slid into the car. There, he stared at a replay of his life. He saw Vivienne’s mangled body at the bottom of the ditch the night of the accident, Olivia with her head swathed in bandages surrounded by a battery of frowning doctors. And then he could only see her—Jillian. The last vapors of tequila-induced idiocy disintegrated.

Lucid, but certainly not sober, Gavin flipped open his phone to call a cab.

Chapter Nine

The mid-afternoon sun streamed in through the French doors of her bedroom as Jill stepped into the shower. She let out a deep sigh. The hot spurting jets attacked the creeping ache in her muscles. A shower followed by a nap to ease the headache that wouldn’t go away no matter what she tried, were the only things on her agenda. Anything else would have to wait. As the steam rose, the tension between her shoulders eased. What an altogether crappy couple of days. Would she never get over being disappointed by people?

The phone was ringing as she turned off the shower. Jill tossed a pale blue towel over her shoulder and tried to catch the call. It rolled to voice mail to join the mountain of calls that had accumulated over the past week. When the phone rang again, she ignored it, determined to close out the world in favor of a nap.

Just as she sank into blessed sleep, the doorbell rang. She had no interest in encyclopedias, vacuums, or life insurance. She didn’t want to be converted by a Jehovah’s Witness, or buy candy from the Boy Scouts. She just wanted to sleep. Sweet oblivion swept her away a second time. She jerked awake to spot Gage rapping on one of the French doors, her face pinched with worry.

Jill crawled out of bed to let in her friend.
What now?

Gage’s eyes rounded. “You’re in bed? At this hour? Are you okay?” She picked up the towel Jill had dumped on the floor and hung it up in the bathroom. “I saw you drive up, but when you didn’t answer your phone…” She crossed her arms. “Did you know your voice mail is full by the way? I thought I better come over and check on you. I was hoping you’d go with me to the animal shelter. I saw an ad online for homeless pups and I just have to go see if there’s something I can do to help. Volunteer, or adopt one, or I don’t know…something.”

Jill crawled back into bed and pulled the sea foam-colored comforter over her body.

Her friend parked herself on the edge of Jill’s bed. “So, you’re not okay. What’s up?”

“Bad day. Headaches.”

“Have you taken anything?”

“Everything. Nothing’s working. Not even a hot shower,” Jill pulled the covers over her head to blot out the shooting lights.

“You poor thing. Give me your hand. Lay it flat like that. Relax your arm. Good.” She moved her fingers over Jill’s palm, wrist, and arm, applying light pressure. “Breathe.”

Jill breathed.

“No, not like that. Breathe deeply. From your diaphragm. I want to hear it and see your tummy expand.”

Jill breathed again, grateful for her friend’s help as the shooting pains began to subside.

“Better. Keep doing that.”

Twenty minutes later, head-ache-free, Jill had brushed her hair, swept it into a knot behind her left ear, and pulled on a T-shirt over low riding jeans.

Inside the sporty SUV, Gage slid open the sunroof. “Are you holding out on me?”

The sun’s warmth filled the SUV’s interior. “I might be.” She hadn’t said a word about sleeping with Gavin, but Gage had amazing powers of discernment, and the skill of a trained psychologist.

Gage started the engine and backed out of the drive. “Well, then it’s time to spill. What was Gavin Fairfield doing hanging around your door earlier today? And can I just say, he is one tasty view.”

Jill’s eyes widened. “He was at my door?”

Gage nodded. “Tall, athletic-looking, late thirties with a hint of salt and pepper on the sides. I take it there are new developments since we talked.”

Jill closed her eyes and almost gave in to tears. “It’s a long story.”

Gage accelerated onto the freeway. “Shelter doesn’t close until eight.”

As Jill took her through the last several days, Gage listened without interruption, maneuvering the SUV through the late afternoon traffic. “I can’t remember ever having had to make such a difficult call,” Jill finished.

Gage gripped the steering wheel. “Okay, so you said
no
to the daughter’s enrollment. But are you also saying no to a relationship with the father?”

Was she?
Jill shrugged. “A relationship between the two of us didn’t come up.”

Gage frowned. “You think he was playing you?”

Jill’s breath grew shallow and her chest felt tight. “No, I don’t think so. He was so shocked, he couldn’t think beyond the moment. God, Gage, I just don’t know.” Jill smoothed away the hair from her forehead. “And then, Ross caught me this morning. He said either I reverse my decision or I could go in front of the board this afternoon, state my case, and let them tell me the inevitable…”

Gage’s jaw dropped. “The board would make you reverse your decision?”

A surge of anger almost brought back her headache. Jill nodded.

Gage smacked the steering wheel. “Damn, I hate hearing crap like this. I thought Ross had your back.”

Jill picked at a thread on her jeans and sighed.
Me too.
“This wasn’t his doing. The board president John Roberts called him last night.”

“Questioning your professional judgment?”

Jill shook her head and turned to her friend. “Nothing so lofty as that. The institute received a sizable endowment from the Fairfields.”

Gage’s mouth thinned, but she said nothing as she parked the SUV.

“And he reminded me endowments are in large part how my research is funded.”

“So, Gavin Fairfield used his influence and resources to buy his daughter’s way in. Did you take back your rejection?”

Jill pressed her fingers to her cheeks, hoping to manage the emotions that still roiled in the pit of her stomach. “No. I refused to subject myself to the humiliation of going in front of the board. Ross handled it.”

“Yup,” Gage agreed. “Sucky couple of days. Definitely time to hold puppies.”

Jill steadied herself against the depressing smell of the shelter as she breathed in antiseptic, dry food, pet deodorizer, and cat litter.

Gage disappeared into the dog kennels.

Jill wandered around until she ended up in a row of rabbits. She stared down at a long-eared, chocolate brown bunny, its pink nose twitching.

“Hey, pretty lady. You lost?”

She turned to see a man—fiftyish—in a pair of work overalls, hardly more than rags. ”Name’s Will.” He slung a wad of gray hair out of his eyes.

Jill cinched her jacket in tight, scanning his overalls for something that might identify him as an employee or shelter volunteer. “Why would you think I’m lost?”

Will blinked and stepped closer. “Because you ain’t a rabbit person.” He squinted and ran his gaze up and down her body. “Not a dog person either.” He squinted again, shoved more hair out of his eyes, and crooked his finger. “Got something you’ll wanna see, cat lady.”