Читать книгу Chistmas In Manhattan Collection - Алисон Робертс - Страница 33

CHAPTER FIVE

“YOU MAY HAVE ruined me to hummus and toast forever.” Sarah patted her mouth with a napkin, then leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Shame on you, spoiling my rather dull palate.”

Jude felt rather spoiled himself, having gotten to watch Sarah eat. And loosen up. Now, that he’d enjoyed.

Because once she’d relaxed she’d opened up and talked.

Sarah talking was a pleasure.

She fascinated him. From her political views to her dreading the holidays as much as he was to her fear of taking the tunnels out of the city to her absolute love of New York and the diversity of people, customs, restaurants, and things to do.

He couldn’t quite believe she’d lived in New York her entire life and had never been to a Broadway show. How did anyone manage that? Even prior to adulthood, he’d repeatedly gone during prep school field day trips.

He leaned forward, pinning her with his gaze. “If you could see any one Broadway show, which one would it be?”

“Phantom of the Opera,” she said without hesitation and with a wistful look in her eyes that even her hideous glasses wouldn’t have hidden.

“Obviously, you’ve given this some thought. Why haven’t you gone?”

Glancing away from him to stare out the window at the skyline, she shrugged. “I made plans to go once. He failed to show and I’ve just never made plans to go again.”

He?

“What?” He exaggerated the word, a bit stunned at her reason. “Are you kidding me? Some guy stood you up?”

Meeting his gaze for a brief moment, she shook her head, then stared down into her glass, twirling the small amount of sparkling wine remaining. “I... It’s okay, really.”

“You were all dressed up and waiting on the guy to take you on a date and he never showed?” Maybe his question had been crass, but the possibility that some clown had blown her off just seemed unfathomable. And made him angry for her. He should get the guy’s address and give him a lesson on how to treat a lady. Because, despite Sarah’s denial, her voice conveyed that she’d been hurt.

As did how her eyes were downcast and her face pale.

“You were, weren’t you?”

“I was what?” Her gaze lifted to his.

The glistening in her eyes almost undid him. She was fighting tears. His insides clenched as did his fingers.

“Dressed up and waiting on a man who never showed and didn’t bother to let you know he wasn’t coming.”

Her expression pinched and that was all the answer Jude needed. Yeah, he should really look up this tool and give him a piece of his mind.

“Was he straight?”

Sarah’s face turned that rosy shade of red it seemed to often wear and she nodded. “Yes, he was straight. Like I said, he just forgot we’d made plans.”

“How?” If he’d exaggerated the word earlier, this time was even more drawn out with total disbelief.

Looking embarrassed, Sarah shrugged. “You’re making a big deal of it. It wasn’t. He got busy and forgot about our date. It’s fine. After that, we realized we weren’t meant to date, but are still friends. End of story.”

Only not really because the beautiful woman sitting across from him had taken a blow to her confidence that never should have happened. The thought of Sarah, all dressed up and waiting for her date, and the guy not bothering to show or call, had Jude livid.

He shook his head. “The guy stood you up and you’re still friends with him? You should have kneed him where it hurt, not still be defending his bad-mannered behavior.”

Eyes wide, she gave him a horrified look. “Why on earth would I do that? Because he and I didn’t click romantically? That doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. He’s not. He’s a nice man.”

Most of the women he knew would have neutered the guy, not defended him.

Wondering at why Sarah was, if she still had feelings for the idiot who’d stood her up, Jude shook his head. “Nice guys don’t invite a woman to a show and forget.”

“Could we please talk about something else? Besides, what do you know about being a nice guy, Jude Davenport?” she scoffed, leaning forward, too, and pinning him beneath her blue-green gaze.

Knowing she was one hundred percent focused on him threw Jude. Good grief, her attention was heady.

“More than the guys you hang out with, apparently.” He stared right back, liking everything about the way he felt staring into her eyes and that this time she held his gaze, not backing down or looking away even as electricity sparked between them.

Excitement licked his imagination and visions of kissing that full mouth of hers danced through his mind, of placing his palms against those cheeks of hers, staring into her eyes, and kissing her until her taste filled his senses.

Visions of his taking her on that date and giving her the night she should have had and making up for what the idiot had done to her.

“Think whatever you will, Sarah.” He even liked saying her name, how it rolled off his tongue almost melodically. “But I can honestly say that if you’d been dressed up for a date with me, I wouldn’t have forgotten you no matter what the hell came up.”

“That’s good to know.” Eyes glinting, she pursed her lips.

At her comment, Jude raised his brow, to which her lips parted, tempting him further. His mouth craved hers with a dizzying intensity.

“That’s not what I mean,” she began, looking flustered. “I mean... Oh, you know what I meant and what I didn’t mean.”

“Do I?” His lips trembled from unfamiliar restraint at not taking what he wanted. She was so close, yet he knew he shouldn’t kiss her, that he had no right to kiss Sarah.

“Oh, get real, Jude. I am not your type and you are certainly not mine. What your dating practices are really don’t pertain to me.” Even as she protested, he heard the question in her voice and understood why. Normally, he’d have already kissed those disapproving pink lips of hers.

He wanted to kiss them.

Wanted to kiss her.

All of her.

That he hadn’t kissed her said something, but he wasn’t sure he understood exactly what or why he was so hesitant to make a move.

“Certainly not your type?” he pushed, knowing he wasn’t reading her wrong, that, despite whatever she thought of him, there was powerful chemistry burning between them.

“Certainly,” she repeated with a slight slur, making him wonder how many glasses of wine she’d had while he’d been finishing their dinner.

“Why is it that I’m certainly not your type, Sarah?”

She blinked, then gave a haughty little tilt to her chin. “Because I’m not into men who sleep with so many different women.”

Were they back to that?

“I think you overestimate my prowess.”

She broke eye contact and laughed. “Nice try, Casanova.”

He watched her toy with her wine. “What type of men are you into?”

Not answering for several moments, she seemed to search for the answer in her glass.

“Ones who aren’t like you,” she finally said.

Although her response didn’t surprise him, he frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

“Sure it is.”

“How so?”

“It means I’m into men who aren’t adrenaline junkies, who have steady, stable jobs, who don’t feel the need to have the most notches on their bedpost.”

Her response gained passion with each word, making him wonder if she was trying to convince him or herself.

“You know, guys who aren’t like you.” She emphasized the last word.

Was that how she saw him? The same way the rest of the world did, no doubt. Still, her words stung in ways the words of a woman he’d technically only met that day shouldn’t sting. They had no relationship, had just lived next to each other since she’d bought the apartment next to his. Thank goodness he’d not bought the place as he’d considered to expand his own again, mainly to widen his view of the city. He’d hate to have gone through life without the pleasure of having met his neighbor.

“None of those things disqualify me,” he pointed out, taking in every nuance of her facial expression. “Because none of those things describe me.”

She didn’t look convinced at his denial. “You aren’t an adrenaline junkie?”

“No.”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “A man who runs into a burning building?”

“I run into burning buildings because there are people inside who need help or when there’s a chance of putting out the fire and saving the building from total destruction.”

Emotion flickered in her gaze, like the shimmering of the sea. She didn’t break eye contact, just narrowed her gaze, as if she fought letting herself believe him. “You don’t get a rush out of fighting fires?”

“I didn’t say that.” He shrugged. “I get a rush when I save someone’s life, but not from the actual going into the burning building or risking my own life.”

Although doing so did make him feel more alive, more like the man he’d been before Nina had fallen for Charles and then died.

Maybe every time he saved a life he somehow felt vindicated that he’d not been able to save the woman he’d loved, that he’d turned his back on her and their friendship when he couldn’t have more. Not that he could have saved Nina. She’d chosen Charles, had died due to childbirth complications. There had been nothing anyone could have done. Had there been, Charles and Jude both would have given their lives for Nina’s.

Except when he fought fires, Jude had felt half-dead since the moment he’d cut Nina completely out of his life, lost his best friend, and destroyed the closeness he’d once shared with his cousin.

He didn’t feel half-dead now. Quite the opposite.

He didn’t recall ever feeling as alive as he felt at this moment, staring into the eyes of a woman who didn’t think much of him, but who was as intrigued by him as he was her, despite the fact that she didn’t want to be.

Which meant what exactly? He didn’t want a relationship, was no longer a relationship kind of guy. These days, he took women to his bed, not to his dining room to feed them a meal he’d cooked.

He sure didn’t long to take women on dates where he showered them with romance and attention to make up for every wrong they’d ever endured.

Yet, looking into Sarah’s eyes, that was exactly what he wanted. Hell.

“I think I’m more your type than you want to admit, Doc.”

* * *

As Sarah helped Jude clear the table and load his dishwasher, his words kept running through her head.

Surprisingly, this was the first silence they’d had as they’d chatted away during dinner. Jude was a great conversationalist. He made intelligent comments, listened with eager ears, and responded with insightful observations.

The few dates she’d ever gone on had left her feeling awkward and socially inept. Eventually, she’d almost quit dating, because why bother? She wasn’t looking for a man in her life, knew what being involved with the wrong man could cost a woman, and didn’t appreciate giving up a night of her life to feel inadequate at the end of the evening.

The few times she’d made exceptions had never ended well.

For instance, the night interesting Kenny Goodall had asked to take her to her first Broadway show. She’d lost the glasses, donned mascara and lipstick, put on a decently fitting dress, and anxiously awaited what had promised to be a wonderful evening.

She’d never felt so mortified, unattractive, and convinced her mother was right in all her life as when she’d discovered he’d forgotten their plans.

Never again would she allow herself to be so humiliated at the hands of a man.

Nothing about her dinner with Jude made her feel inadequate, though. Quite the opposite. She’d enjoyed sharing the meal with him more than she’d have dreamed possible. Maybe because she knew there could never be anything between them.

The fact he’d seemed perturbed she’d written him off as not her type and given him her reasons why surprised her, though. Why would he care?

Sure, she’d felt heat when looking at him and he’d made flirty comments at the hospital and tonight, but the reality was she wasn’t Jude Davenport’s type.

He hadn’t bothered to deny that, had just questioned that he wasn’t hers.

Before having seen that different side of him at the hospital and tonight, she’d have said it was because he was so arrogant he assumed he was every woman’s type.

If gorgeous, intelligent, witty, and full of testosterone were the criteria, then he was.

Sarah glanced around the kitchen, surprised at how quickly they’d gotten everything cleared. Surprised at how amazingly stocked and spacious his kitchen was. She liked the granite countertops, the workstation island, and the stainless-steel appliances.

What she didn’t like was that now there was nothing to occupy her hands, more awkwardness was setting in.

“You want another glass of wine?”

Looking at him in relief, she exclaimed, “Yes!”

He must think her a total slush and she rarely drank. She’d just been grateful for something to do with her hands to ward off her own mental demons. She should leave before the awkwardness and inadequacy set in, reminding that she had nothing in common with him.

He poured her another glass, then one for himself. “Let’s sit on the sofa and look out at the city. It’s my favorite way to end a stressful day.”

So maybe they did have a few things in common. Besides chemistry.

Sarah sat, but couldn’t relax to enjoy the view as she had earlier because Jude sat down beside her. His body wasn’t touching hers, but he was closer than he should be since they were the only two people on his large sofa.

Why had he sat so close? If she took a deep breath, she’d probably brush up against his arm.

She finished off her glass of wine in record time, set the glass on an end table coaster, and stood. Enough was enough. She’d had a mostly enjoyable night with him and wasn’t going to ruin it by staying longer.

“Thank you for the delicious meal, for turning off my smoke detector, and for letting me enjoy your view.”

First placing his glass next to hers on the table, he stood, stared down at her. “You are very welcome, Sarah, but I should be thanking you.”

The intensity in his blue eyes about had her almost sitting back down because of wobbly legs. “For what?”

“Providing excellent dinner company and turning my night into something memorable.”

She hadn’t done that. Wasn’t going to do that. Was that what he thought she was there to do?

“I’d best be going,” she ventured, not breaking eye contact with him but taking a step back.

His eyes twinkled. “In a rush?”

“It’s been a long day. I look forward to going to sleep.” Yes, she had put emphasis on the word “sleep”. “I’m sure you feel the same.”

One side of his mouth crooked upward. “Then I guess I have no choice but to say good night.”

Sarah barely held back her sigh of relief. Which was just as well, because Jude did the unthinkable.

He kissed her.

Just a short peck on her mouth with his warm lips, but one she felt ricochet all the way to her toes and bring every nerve cell to life along the way. The power of Zeus, she thought again, knowing she’d been struck by lightning.

“Goodnight, Sarah,” he said, his lips still so close she could feel his warm breath caress her sensitized mouth. He looked straight into her eyes, his full of what she could only describe as desire.

Desire. For her.

No doubt hers shone the same way.

Because she felt desire. For him.

His lips touched hers again, this time slower, exploring her mouth with his soft, tender touch. He stared into her eyes, searching them as surely as his mouth explored her lips.

She shouldn’t be kissing him. He was a scoundrel, a good-for-nothing womanizer who used women.

Only, deep down, he wasn’t.

She shouldn’t be kissing him. He wasn’t her type.

Only, deep down, he was.

She shouldn’t be kissing him. She wasn’t his type.

Only he was looking at her, kissing her, as if she was.

His kiss was so sweet, so addictive, so electrifying, that she didn’t want him to stop.

So she kissed him back.

Kissed him with the same exploration of his lips, his mouth, that he had kissed her with. At some point her hands found their way to his shoulders, to his neck, to his soft dark hair that she now threaded her fingers through, toying with the silky strands.

Never had she experienced a kiss like this.

Never had she felt a man’s body like his.

Strong, hard, capable of amazing things, focused completely on her every movement, her every response, her every breath.

She didn’t stop him when he cupped her face to kiss her more fully, when his hands worked their way down her shoulders, to her back to settle low and pull her against him.

Oh.

He was long and lean and hard. All man, the kind who rushed into burning buildings to save little girls. The kind who could sweep a woman off her feet without having to catch his breath. The kind whose eyes seduced with just a glimpse.

The kind whose body made a woman want to explore every inch, feel every inch, claim every inch as her own.

That’s how she kissed him, not bothering to hold anything back. What was the point? The moment was some anomaly in time that would never happen again. She’d worry about regrets and recriminations later. Much later.

Jude kissed with a passion she found addictive and she gave in to how she craved him.

His hands shifted to her shoulders, and to her surprise he pulled back, stared into her eyes with ones that appeared as dazed as she felt.

Which was saying a lot. Her legs had all the strength of melted butter. Which was a pretty accurate description of how the rest of her felt, too.

“That was some goodnight kiss, Doc.”

She wasn’t sure how to take his comment. Was he making fun of how she’d kissed him after claiming he wasn’t her type?

“Um, y-yeah, it w-was,” she stammered. “Nothing like any I’ve encountered, for sure.”

“Really?”

He seemed intrigued by her comment and Sarah regretted her wine-induced confession. At least, she was blaming her blurting out that she’d never been kissed like that before on the wine.

Honestly, she could just as easily blame it on his kiss because the man’s mouth had outright intoxicated her.

Squaring up her shoulders and trying to achieve a look of nonchalance, she nodded. “Don’t act like it’s a big deal because I’m sure you get that a lot.”

“Get what a lot?”

Oh, the things she could respond with, but, even though she should be blaring a reminder over and over in her head, the last thing she wanted to do at the moment was think about him with other women.

“The reaction that you are a way above average kisser.”

Looking more than a little pleased at her answer, he chuckled. “Way above average?”

His pleasure in her response, that he was looking at her with affection rather than mockery, freed Sarah of her embarrassment at her confession.

Or maybe it was the wine freeing her of her inhibitions. Yep, she was going to keep blaming the wine. Nasty inhibition-lowering stuff.

“Okay,” she admitted with a little roll of her eyes and a smile of her own. “You’re phenomenal and make my previous kissing experiences seem like they were conducted by preschoolers.”

He stroked his thumb across her cheek. “Preschoolers?”

“They weren’t,” she assured him, thinking she should quit talking any moment now. “I have been kissed since preschool.”

His thumb made a circular caress over her cheekbone and her brain went a little fuzzy for a moment. For a moment? Ha, her brain had been fuzzy all evening. Looking at him made her brain fuzzy. Kissing him had completely fuzzed her.

“I wasn’t actually kissed in preschool,” she clarified. “Not even once, although this little boy named Johnny chased me around saying he was going to kiss me when he caught me, but I never let him catch me.” She should shut up, because why was she telling him about Johnny from preschool? “I have been kissed. By grown men. Good, decent men who were my type.”

At least, she’d thought they were her type. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“But they didn’t kiss like you.” Yeah, she really should quit talking.

The color of Jude’s eyes deepened, darkening with an emotion Sarah couldn’t label. Instinctively, she liked his warm expression, though. She liked it a lot.

“How did I kiss, Sarah?”

He cupped her face now, stared into her eyes, and his voice had a husky tone to it that made her want to listen to him say her name over and over.

All night long.

Wine, stop it.

“Like you could set my body on fire and make me happy to go up in flames.”

Oops. That had slipped out. Maybe she needed to zip her lips.

Zip her lips?

She was reverting to preschool.

Or maybe the way Jude was looking at her, touching her, had her intelligence on hold.

He quirked a brow. “You know my job is to put out fires, right?”

“My guess is that you’ve started more than a few, too.” She swallowed, half expecting him to sweep her off her feet and carry her to his bedroom all Rhett Butler style.

Would she stop him?

Or would she give in to the curiosity of how good Jude Davenport could make her feel? Because she knew being the focus of this man’s attention in bed would be unlike anything she’d ever imagined possible.

Before that moment, that was, because right now her imagination was endless.

Jude stared into her eyes for long moments. “What are you doing tomorrow evening, Sarah Grayson?”