Faking It Page 5

  That becoming pink again flushed her cheeks. Her gaze fell to his lips and her body swayed forward, while his pulse strummed. Then she straightened, all business, her notebook pressed close to her chest. “First things first. Shall we continue the tour?”

  “Certainly.” Disappointment swirled through him, but he tamped it down.

  This time he led her through the dining room, where they stopped briefly, then on to the small sunroom before they moved toward the bedrooms. What the hell was he doing anyway? So far he was making a mess of winging this ridiculous plan he’d let Amanda talk him into.

  What had he been thinking? That Erin McClellan would take one look at him and fall swooning into his arms? Even if she had, then what? They’d have some strange sexual-healing relationship?

  What the hell was that anyway?

  “These are wonderful frames.” The fascination in Erin’s voice drew him back to the present—to the woman he’d hired to redesign his home.

  It had been an impulsive plan, born of desperation, that had driven him to her shop. When she’d closed up about her family and spouted her conventional leanings, he hadn’t known what else to do. Asking her point-blank to enter into a sexual-healing relationship with him had been out of the question. Of course, he hadn’t considered a no-dating policy when he’d signed that contract.

  At least she’d agreed to stay for dinner.

  He groaned inwardly. Why had he made meat loaf, for Pete’s sake? Why couldn’t he have asked her out to dinner? She would have turned him down, but at least he wouldn’t have seemed like some dorky Suzy Homemaker.

  “Jack?” Her green gaze pinned him and he forced his attention to the photographs on the dresser in his guest room. “We should keep these frames. They’re beautiful. Antiques, right?”

  “Sure. Whatever you say.”

  She set the picture she’d picked up down beside its comrades. “Is this your family?”

  He nodded as she indicated the figures in the photographs. He’d forgotten about the pictures. Stacey had brought them over years ago. She’d claimed this as her room when he’d bought the condo and she’d run here whenever she’d needed to get away from home.

  Christ, he hadn’t changed a thing in all the time she’d been gone.

  “This must be your sister. She’s gorgeous. She favors you.”

  He nodded, his throat tight. Damn, he hadn’t expected to get choked up. It had been almost seven years now. The ache in his throat intensified. Shit. He was going to lose it if they stayed in here. “Let’s move on.”

  5

  WITHOUT WAITING FOR Erin’s response, Jack swung toward the door, but her hand on his arm stayed him. He turned to her. The compassion in her eyes stopped him cold. His throat burned.

  Her eyes were luminous, brimming. “You lost her, didn’t you?”

  The room blurred. He nodded, confusion swirling around him like a cloud. He’d grieved for his sister years ago in the quiet of night. Alone.

  Why this now?

  “I’m so sorry.” Her voice, soft as a caress, stroked the first tear down his cheek.

  “Damn.” He did turn then and huffed out a breath. What the hell kind of impression was he making? He’d never cried in front of anyone like this, especially not in front of a woman.

  “I—” He cleared his throat. “It’s been years. She was just sixteen.” He shook his head and straightened, composing himself before he faced her. “I’m not sure what brought that on.”

  Her hand smoothed up his arm, sending ripples of awareness through him. He clamped his own hand over hers to still her, suddenly feeling very out of control of his emotions again. This woman had the oddest effect on him.

  Could this be part of her gift?

  “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to pry.” She dropped her hand. “Grief has a way of sneaking up on you. Best to let it out when it does.” She frowned. “I should go.”

  “No.” He grabbed her arm, then stared at his hand, surprised he’d done so, but the thought of her leaving sent a sense of loss shooting through him. Regardless of what kind of effect she had on him, he wasn’t yet ready for her to go.

  He released her. “Excuse me. We’re not through and I’m not letting you slide on that dinner. I made a ton of meat loaf. You’ve got to help me eat it.”

  A hesitant smile curved her lips. In that moment he thought there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for one of her smiles. Damn, the woman had the most enchanting way about her.

  Her eyes shone. “Okay, but you’re just lucky I have a soft spot for meat loaf.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “There’s gravy, too, I hope.”

  “Meat loaf and mashed potatoes without gravy? What do I look like—some kind of freak? Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

  She laughed, and the sound trickled up his spine and filled him with warmth, but her gaze was anything but playful. “No, Jack Langston, you do not look like a freak to me.”

  He couldn’t resist it anymore. He reached for a lock of her hair, rubbing it briefly between his fingers before tucking it behind her ear. The simple act sent adrenaline shooting through him.

  Truly the woman had magic in her. How else could he explain this quickening—this lightening of his spirit—with just a look, a touch from her? The need to know her filled him.

  “Tell me about your family,” he asked.

  “My family? Why? What do you want to know?” She straightened away from him and he swore silently. He’d forgotten her reticence the other day.

  Still, he cleared his throat, stubbornness taking hold of him. “You know a little about mine. You know I lost a sister when she was fairly young. It’s only fair that I get to know a little about your family.”

  She closed her eyes and lowered her head a moment before again meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just…” She heaved a sigh. “My family…they’re…different. I—” She shook her head. “I felt like I was being dragged into—I don’t know—this circus or something and all I wanted was to live a peaceful, normal life.”

  “So your family’s different. Isn’t everyone’s?”

  “Not like mine.” Her eyes widened. “But believe me, I am nothing like them. Not one bit. Maybe I was switched in the hospital, but I swear, I don’t fit in.” Her frustration seemed to reach out and grab him. “Have you ever felt that way?”

  “No. I can’t say that I have.” He’d always fit so well with his family. An integral part. That was the problem.

  Guilt filled him. He’d sought her out for her gift—for her healing heritage, and she wanted no part of it. The irony hit him so hard he stood staring at her, speechless.

  She didn’t seem to notice. “And they don’t get it at all. They think I’m just like them. Which is such a crock, because I have never been like them.”

  “Would you like a drink?”

  She sniffed. “Well, I don’t normally drink while I’m working.”

  “I need a drink. Let’s call this session officially over and you can toss the salad while I make the gravy and we can open a bottle of wine. I think we could both use a glass. What do you say?”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “Okay, maybe just this once.”

  “Great.”

  She followed him to the kitchen and laid her notebook on the counter while he opened a bottle of wine. After pouring two full glasses, he handed her one, then raised his in a toast. “To working together.”

  “Yes, to our new partnership.”

  “Partnership?”

  “Oh, yes, I think of each new client as a partner. You’ll be in on the decision-making process every step of the way.”

  He took a thoughtful sip. “Don’t you ever have a client who just says, ‘do whatever’?”

  “Not usually, but there have been a few.”

  “And are they still partners?”

  “I’ve usually found that people may not know what they want, but they always know what they don’t wan
t when they see it. The ones who say ‘whatever’ have never really meant it.”

  He pulled out a pan and a packet of gravy mix. As he stirred in a cup of water, he glanced at her. “I honestly don’t care what you do with this place, though. I’m sure if you like it, I’ll be happy with it.”

  “I’ll still want you to look over samples and things. It’s my policy to have you sign off on orders before they’re placed. We don’t want to make any expensive mistakes here. It’s your dollar. I can work via e-mail some and I’ll work around whatever schedule you’d like if you’re concerned about me taking up too much of your time.”

  “E-mail is fine. I like the idea of a regular meeting schedule. I’ll make myself available for you. I work out of my house at times, but I’m gone a good bit. I’ll give you a key so you can come and go as you need.” He handed her a cutting board, a knife and a cucumber. “Would you mind cutting this up?”

  “I thought you said I’d be tossing the salad.” She gestured at the bowl of lettuce he set beside her, a wry smile curving her lips. “This is not tossing the salad.”

  “Okay, would you please help me make the salad? Here, I’ll slice the tomato.”

  “Go stir your gravy. I can do the tomato, too. I’m a girl of many talents.”

  He sipped his wine and let his gaze again drift over her. “No doubt.”

  She lowered her eyes as she sipped her wine. God, she was pretty. And sweet. And in total denial that she had the McClellan gift.

  Turning back to the stove, he gave the gravy a hard stir. What kind of a jerk was he? He couldn’t pursue a relationship with her—not just to benefit from any healing abilities she had. She’d hate him if she knew that was his original plan.

  Well, the hell with that plan. It obviously wasn’t going to work. Maybe Amanda could help him find some other voodoo healer or something. He could never ask Erin to do something she seemed so determined to avoid.

  “You okay?”

  He glanced at her, frowning. “Sure. Why?”

  “You were rubbing your chest.”

  Shit. “Must have strained a muscle or something.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

  Erin set down her knife. Jack was in some kind of discomfort. Besides the fact that he’d been rubbing his chest, she had this…feeling.

  Her heart sped. The same jumble of emotions that had filled her in her shop swept over her, though this time it seemed calmer yet no less intense. Was this what Nikki and Tess felt? Was this the empathic nature they’d talked about? Why had she never felt this before Jack?

  She had to know more about it. She had to touch him. The need was too strong to resist. She moved beside him. “Here, let me.”

  “I’m fine,” he insisted, but she soothed her hand over his chest and he closed his eyes and stilled.

  She shouldn’t do this. She’d sworn off men, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember why. It didn’t matter, she couldn’t have pulled away then had she wanted to. Moving her hands in small circles, she worked her way along his torso, her pulse thudding as she traced over his firm muscles. Desire flowed through her and she swallowed as he rolled back his head and a small moan of pleasure sounded from his throat.

  It wasn’t enough. She had to touch him—touch his skin. She had to know what this…connection was.

  “Here, let me….” With quick twists of her fingers, she undid the buttons down the front of his shirt, then laid her hands on his warm skin, hardly believing she could be so bold.

  His skin was tanned and smooth and so firm, she closed her eyes for a moment as pleasure rippled over her. He responded to her touch as no man had ever responded to her. She could feel his pleasure. It wrapped around her like a blanket and drew her in, bound her to him in some odd way she couldn’t fathom at the moment, but when his gaze met hers, she stood breathless before him, his heart thrumming beneath her palms.

  When his gaze fell to her mouth, she could feel him fighting the urge to kiss her. She struggled herself. In that moment there wasn’t anything that made sense in the world but joining her mouth to his. He needed her. She knew that with a certainty that pushed her forward, made her press her lips to his, where she paused for just a heartbeat while their breath mixed, the warmth and excitement and anticipation almost unbearable.

  So much for swearing off men.

  Sighing, Erin parted her lips, and Jack’s tongue met hers with little coaxing. He cupped her head and held her in place, and the hunger in him stirred a compassion in her that heated her blood. She kissed him back, her tongue stroking his, while she slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her body as close as she could get. Still it wasn’t enough to satisfy his hunger—her hunger—the need he invoked in her.

  He groaned and lifted her against him, his body hard, his hands cupping her bottom, kneading her, until she ground against him. Not wanting to break the kiss, craving the feel of his tongue, she held on and let the heat take her. For long moments the world revolved around that kiss—that endless joining of lips and tongues, their bodies straining against each other.

  The timer on the oven blared. Slowly her senses untangled from his. His hands stilled on her, the heat of them branding her through her pants. Restraint punctuated his kiss, though his need hadn’t abated. Somehow, for some reason, he was resisting whatever force had taken hold of them. He set her down, letting her body slide along his as the timer blared somewhere above the pounding of her pulse.

  She stood mutely while he turned off first the timer and then the oven and stove. Then he took both her hands in his. “Erin, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She stared at him, the desire shining in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have stopped?”

  “No.” He blew out a breath. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

  “But I kissed you. I let it happen. I wanted it to happen.”

  “Erin—”

  “You wanted it, too.”

  He nodded. “I did. Still, I shouldn’t have.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never done anything like that before. I just…” She just what? Couldn’t help herself? Could barely keep herself from crawling all over him even now?

  “You just what?” Something dark and painful swam in his eyes.

  She cupped his cheek, unable to hold back the truth. “You needed me. I…couldn’t help myself. I’ve never wanted anyone like that. You felt it, too.”

  “Yes, I did.” The muscles in his jaw worked.

  “But you stopped. Why?”

  “It didn’t… I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not completely comfortable with.”

  He tucked his hands into the back of his waistband, so his shirt spread wide, revealing the mouthwatering cut of his torso. Did he have any idea the picture he posed? Before she realized what she was doing, she pressed her palm over his heart.

  He sucked in a breath and covered her hand with his. His gaze met hers, his desire raw and exposed. “Erin, I do need you.”

  Whether he pulled her into his arms or she moved there on her own, she couldn’t say, but his mouth covered hers and his tongue stroked with a hunger and a need that eclipsed their earlier encounter. She sighed and let the fire take her. Whatever force brought them together, she was powerless to resist.

  This time there would be no holding back.

  Nothing could have prepared Jack for the power of Erin’s kiss. Her tongue met his stroke for stroke, her hands seemed to touch him all over, arousing every nerve ending in his body. He burned for her. She was an enticing blend of innocence and vixen as she pulled his belt from its loops, then dropped it on the floor. When had she unbuckled it?

  She broke the kiss only to run her mouth across his chest, kissing him over his heart so it pounded. Yet, for once, instead of pain, a strange euphoria filled him. Then her tongue darted over one of his nipples and he inhaled sharply as the pleasure coursed through him.

  “Come.” Her eyes sparkled as she tugged at his hand. “We never finished t
he tour. You didn’t show me your bedroom.”

  Dazed, he followed her, his mind a fog of desire and confusion. How had they gone from being non-dating partners to her dragging him to bed? All he knew was that she’d touched him and his knees had nearly buckled with his need for her.

  Could that be it? Was it his need that triggered her gift, that turned her into the seductress?

  She entered his room and he didn’t have any more time to sort it out as she pushed him down onto his bed, then crawled on top of him. She kissed him and he lost himself to the heat of her mouth, the insistence of her tongue and the weight of her body as she moved against him, sending his blood pounding through his veins and hardening his cock.

  His zipper grated and her fingers closed around him. He groaned as she stroked his aching hardness, but when she started to move down his body, he stopped her, needing to see her, needing to touch her everywhere before he gave himself to her.

  She gasped as he tossed her to her back, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. What a siren she was as she helped him divest her of her blouse, then her pants. Her hands fumbled over his in her haste to remove her bra and panties. In moments she lay naked before him, her skin soft and smooth, her body petite but exquisite with her small waist flaring into the gentle swells of her hips. Her rosy nipples stood erect and inviting.

  “Erin,” he whispered, then ran his hand over her shoulder, down her arm to her hip. “You’re so perfect. So beautiful.”

  She moved against the bed. “Touch me, Jack.”

  Her scent drifted over him and he buried his face between her breasts, surprisingly ample despite her small frame. He cupped her, kneading her until she moaned softly and arched up to him, silently begging him to take her into his mouth. He savored the feel of her nipple against his tongue as he suckled her long and hard while rolling the twin between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Oh, sweet Jack.” She parted her legs in invitation and he breathed deeply of her musky scent as he smoothed his hand down her belly, over her tangle of curls to the soft folds of her femininity.