Читать книгу Texting Under the Influence - Cara Lockwood, Cara Lockwood - Страница 7

Chapter Two

Back at her condo, Jenna quickly stuffed her dirty clothes into her closet, kicking errant socks under her bed. Jax had a thing about bedrooms: they had to be clean. He felt nothing should get in the way of setting the mood, and he was right about that. He was an artist in the bedroom, and wanted to work every angle of the canvas. A dirty bra on the headboard or a sweatshirt on the floor might mess with his rhythm, and Jenna had no intention of doing that. If this was going to be the last time she’d ever fuck him, she wanted it to be perfect. Quickly, she lit those vanilla candles he liked so much, and shut off the lights.

Maddie had been the hardest to get rid of—she’d almost insisted on sleeping over. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” she had said. “What if he tries to hit you up for a booty call?”

“He won’t,” Jenna had lied, since he already had. And she’d accepted. She felt bad about that, and about shuffling Maddie out her door with some mumbled excuse about having an early workday tomorrow. She knew by the sour look on Maddie’s face, her friend didn’t buy it, but Maddie had let it slide, so there was that. Now, she just had to focus on what was coming and how she planned to be naked with Jax in less than an hour.

Already, she’d found the lingerie that drove him wild: push-up bra, transparent black thong, the silky black robe he’d gotten her for her birthday last year. He’d had her try it on—sans anything underneath when she opened it, and that had led to a six-hour, multi-orgasm, marathon lovemaking session, which she still sometimes daydreamed about. She hoped he remembered that when she opened the door.

What am I doing? she thought suddenly, remembering that the day after that lovemaking marathon she’d gone in for her annual OB/GYN appointment and discovered she had HPV, which could only have come from Jax. She’d done the math and realized that he’d given it to her sometime during one of their so-called monogamous phases, which meant he’d picked it up from playing around on the side. When she’d confronted him, and asked him if he’d been sleeping around, he’d said yes. When she asked him if he used any protection, he’d said sometimes.

Sometimes! That had led to a panicked call to the doctor’s office once more, where she had tests for the whole spectrum of STDs run. She’d come up negative for any more, but that had led to their second breakup.

Jenna shook her head, the vodka making her thoughts all jumbled. She’d had a lot to drink and hardly anything to eat, and she swayed unsteadily on her heels as she tried to gather her thoughts.

She couldn’t believe she’d let him back into her life and her bed. She knew how it sounded to Maddie, and everyone else in her life, but the fact was, nobody wanted her like Jax. His hands... his mouth. He knew every one of her weak spots. He exploited every one. And if that didn’t work, he made her come so hard she cried uncle.

Nobody pursued her with his single-minded determination. Even though he ran after dozens of girls the same way, that little voice said. She checked her makeup in the mirror, her image a drunk blur. She’d fixed her eyeliner the best she could, but wondered what would happen after he left. Would she cry herself to sleep? Was she really going to do this? Trade her dignity for one more night with Jax?

I should call him and tell him not to bother. I shouldn’t do this. I know where this leads...

No. One more time, she thought. Just once. One time and I’ll be done with him. For good this time.

But... was that really a good idea? She wavered, phone in hand, almost ready to text Jax and call the whole thing off. Maybe she would...

Her door buzzed then. Too late. Jax was downstairs. She could ignore him, but she knew Jax. He’d worm his way in somehow, or he’d buzz all her neighbors’ doors until one of them let him in. When it came to sex, Jax wasn’t going to be derailed. He’d take the door off the hinges if he had to. She thought of trying to explain to the police she called about her drunk texting, and decided she should be in for a penny, in for a pound. She invited him over, and part of her was still very excited about their last night.

She hit the buzzer button, and cracked open her front door. She was in a third-floor walk-up, and she could hear the front door click behind him, and the heavy footsteps on the carpeted stairs. Jenna propped herself in her doorway, her landing not visible to any of her neighbors. She had her silky black robe open, her lingerie and assets on display—push-up bra working overtime to make her a Victoria’s Secret model look-alike. She slouched against the door frame, hoping she looked seductive and not drunk, as she saw a glimpse of dark hair and a leather jacket. Jax didn’t wear leather... and wait one minute, that wasn’t Jax at all.

Her boss, Jack Kearney, climbed up the last flight, his broad shoulders moving his fit body as she froze in absolute shock for about two full seconds, during which, his ice-blue eyes swept over her in approval. He looked a little like a man on Christmas morning, amazed at the good fortune he’d found under his tree.

Jenna managed to gain control of her body once more, and she whipped her robe closed, tying the sash and backing into her apartment.

“Jack! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, even as she realized the silk of her robe clung to her curves, and was too short to cover much of anything, her hem hanging well above her knee. Her eyes darted down the stairwell, as if Jax might be there right behind Jack, trying to figure out what on earth had brought her boss to her apartment at midnight.

“You told me to come,” Jack said, holding up his phone.

The vodka swirled around Jenna’s brain, making her two steps too slow. “What?”

He read the messages aloud. “We need 2 talk. I know you want me. You should want me. I’m the best you’ll ever have. “

“No... Oh, my God.” Jenna stumbled back into her apartment, grabbing her phone. It couldn’t be true. She’d texted Jax. She knew she had...and yet, as she scrambled to pick up her phone she saw she hadn’t. Jack sat neatly at the top of her message list. Jack, not Jax. She’d been off by one letter. She’d probably typed Jac, and it had automatically pulled up Jack, but she’d been too drunk to notice. Oh, God! Her boss... her... really devilishly good-looking boss. She didn’t know if it was the vodka talking, but man, were his eyes blue. Shockingly blue. His nearly jet-black hair ran riot over his head in just the perfect messy heap. He grinned sheepishly, as the mix-up dawned on him.

“You didn’t mean to text me, I take it?” He ran a hand through his thick black hair and sighed, looking strangely despondent. “I knew it was too good to be true.” He grinned ruefully at her, looking, well, damn good. He was handsome, she knew he was, but before now she’d not let herself see just how hot.

God, Jenna. Like a bitch in heat! Are you just going to jump on every man you see? Maybe... she thought. Just maybe. And distantly... I really shouldn’t ever drink vodka.

Jack glanced down at his shoes, looking embarrassed. She wondered why. Women threw themselves on Jack all the time. It’s not like the man was hard up for willing booty calls. She’d heard women at work talking about him in the kitchen by the coffee machine and what they’d love to do with him. “Right, well, then, I... Uh... This is for you.” He handed her a bottle of red, an expensive bottle by the look of it. What kind of man brought expensive wine to a drunken hookup?

A nice one, Maddie would’ve said if she were here.

“Well... uh... I’ll be on me way, then,” he grumbled in his sexy Irish brogue. Even Jenna had taken note of the accent. Everyone in the office had. “No need to call the peelers.”

“Peelers?”

“Police,” he explained. He headed to the door, pausing there. “By the by, you look feckin’ amazing. Whomever you meant to call is a lucky feckin’ lad.”

Something in his voice, the yearning in it, made Jenna pause. Did Jack have a thing for her?

“Jack, wait.”

He paused. “Are you going to call HR? Pam will be asleep and meaner than she usually is.”

Jenna laughed. Pam in HR was a hard-ass. She’d hate being called at home, but she’d love reprimanding both of them. She lived to chastise rule-breakers. “Have a drink. She can’t have us fired for having a drink.”

“She can if you wear that.” Jack looked down at Jenna’s robe, which had gaped open, revealing cleavage. She giggled, and stumbled a little, and Jack steadied her on her feet. His hands were strong and warm and Jenna liked the feel of them on her shoulders. He smelled like leather and cinnamon. He smelled good.

She glanced up and saw a worried look in his stark blue eyes.

“You okay?”

“I’m... I’m a mess,” she admitted, and hiccupped. The vodka hadn’t weakened its grip on her at all, which was probably a good thing, because if she’d been sober, she would’ve died on the spot of embarrassment. But, now, the alcohol blunted the flash of disapproval in her boss’s eyes. She’d deal with all of that later. Right now, she was drunk, and there was a good-looking man standing in her living room. She hadn’t made the leap of sleeping with him, yet, but then, anything could happen.

“Let’s open this,” she offered, taking the bottle to the kitchen.

“Let’s get some food first, lass,” Jack said, carefully taking the bottle out of her hands. “I know a twenty-four-hour pizza place. Crust to die for! Pepperoni, yeah?”

Confused, Jenna nodded. Jax would never stop to order pizza. He’d have had his way with her five times to Sunday by now. He never cared if she was drunk or not. Usually, she didn’t care either. She was too busy trying to get Jax’s clothes off. She’d thought it was sexy, that he couldn’t wait that he had to have her now, but maybe that was all wrong. Maybe he was just being self-centered.

Jack took care of ordering the pizza, paying over the phone with his credit card, and somewhere, in that little act of chivalry, Jenna lost it. The tears started flowing before she even knew she was crying.

“There, now, food will help...” Jack dropped the phone back in his pocket and glanced up, seeing her tears for the first time. “Feck sake, luv! What did I do?” Jack froze, looking scared. Of course he did. He was a guy, and she was crying! And she couldn’t stop. She blamed vodka. Seriously, no more vodka!

“I-I-I’m sorry. You’re just so nice. That’s all. The guy I thought I was meeting tonight would’ve never done that.”

“He wouldn’t order you pizza?” Jack look genuinely puzzled.

“Or brought me wine. Or cared how I was feeling.”

“Oh.” Jack seemed to understand. He whipped out a packet of tissues from his pocket and

offered her one. Was there nothing he wasn’t prepared for? She blew her nose into it, knowing she was mid-ugly cry, and waited for Jack to make an excuse to leave. This would’ve been Jax’s cue to exit. He didn’t do well with crying. Or with any real genuine emotion that wasn’t lust.

“Come here, then. Bring ’er here.” He opened his arms wide.

Jenna hesitated. She wanted nothing more than to jump into that big circle of warmth, but something gave her pause. The room dipped a little.

“I won’t fondle you, I promise. Gentleman’s word.” He nodded and she moved into his embrace, feeling silly. Her makeup was probably running halfway down her face. She sure didn’t feel sexy at the moment. His arms felt big and strong and safe, and she cried some more, into his shirt, before she realized she was leaking mascara.

“I’m sorry! Your sweater.” She sniffled, and swiped at her eyes with the crumpled-up tissue.

“I can get a new one.” He shrugged, unoffended. He whipped off the wool cardigan and revealed a plain T-shirt beneath that clung to his clearly defined chest. She found herself staring at it. She didn’t realized her boss worked out, since he mostly wore oxford button-downs to work, but clearly he did. You didn’t get biceps and pecs like that by sitting on your couch playing Xbox. “Why don’t we sit down? You can tell me all about that prize of a boyfriend of yours who starves you and doesn’t listen.”

Jenna barked a laugh, already feeling a little better. She sniffed and headed to the couch, swaying dangerously on her feet. Boy, she’d had far too much to drink. She slipped down into the soft cushions. Jack slid in next to her, his lithe, muscled frame unsettling. She couldn’t stop staring at his chest. Jenna’s weakness was there, the big, solid muscles that she could run her hands over. Jax had an amazing chest, she remembered, and those big, broad shoulders. Jack’s shoulders weren’t bad either. She wondered what it would feel like to grab them, run her hands down his arms.

She mentally shook herself. You’re not sleeping with your boss. This is embarrassing enough!

“You must think I’m a mess.”

“I’m relieved, actually, luv.” She could feel the warmth of his Irish brogue in the pit of her stomach. She sure could listen to him all night, she thought. Or like one of the admins at work said, they’d listen to him read the phone book. There was something to it. “You’re so cool and collected at work. Nothing ever flusters you. It’s good to see you’re human after all.”

“Things fluster me all the time!”

“You don’t show it.” Jack grinned, and Jenna felt suddenly shy. She was very aware of his leg, just six inches from hers on the couch. His shoulders seemed to fill up the space of her small condo living room.

“You never wilt under deadline pressure. Remember the Garner ad? You whipped up a new one in less than an hour without one complaint.”

“Graphic design is easy,” Jenna said. “Relationships are hard.”

Jack nodded, understanding. He crossed one ankle over his knee, his clear blue eyes fixed on hers. “Well, then. Tell me the worst. What’s up with this lad you’re dating?”

“We’re not dating. We broke up.”

“You broke up with a lad, but you’re going to feck him?” Jack tapped a finger on his knee, confused.

“I know how it sounds. It sounds bad, but it was just going to be this last time, and Jax was...”

“Jax? The man’s name is Jax? What? Is he a body spray?”

This caused Jenna to burst out laughing. “No!” she cried. “He played football, or used to. It was his nickname, I guess, from a long time ago.”

“I think you have the right to kick ’im to the curb based on name alone, luv.”

“Fair enough.” Jenna grinned.

“I get it.” Jack nodded sagely, rubbing the sexy scruff on his chin. “An ex you can’t quit, right? Like an addiction?”

“Exactly like one of those.” Jenna leaned forward for emphasis, and her silk robe gaped open. She was just sober enough to tuck herself back in. She noticed Jack’s gaze flick downward. “Yes, yes. That.”

“I had one like that. Back in Dublin.”

“You didn’t!” Jenna couldn’t imagine this man, who was so completely hot in so many ways, having a girl he couldn’t quit.

“My sister, Maeve, says I fall in love too easily, that I’m an easy mark for the wrong kind.” Jack leaned over, his T-shirt straining against the muscles in his chest. Jenna tried to focus on his face, but his piercing blue eyes were too wise and too... intense. The chest was safer. “Well, I fell in a love with a lass named Miranda, and I had it bad. I wanted to marry her, but she just wanted to feck about.” Sadness and regret passed across his face and Jenna felt like shaking Miranda. She knew exactly what it felt like to waste time on someone who was careless with her heart.

At that moment, Jenna realized that she and Jack had quite a lot in common. Horrible exes who didn’t appreciate them, for one thing.

“She was a fool,” Jenna said, leaning forward and touching Jack’s knee. The instant she did it, she realized she’d crossed some invisible barrier. Electricity snapped at the point of contact, and Jack seemed to feel it, too. He stared at her hand and then at her. She no longer cared if her robe gaped open, or if Jack saw her bra. What if... Naughty thoughts danced in her alcohol-addled brain. What if Jack was her rebound? Her logic fuzzy, she’d forgotten completely the problem about sleeping with her boss, or company rules, or fallout. Right now, all she wanted was for him to kiss her.

Jenna moved closer to him, their legs touching, and their eyes met. Suddenly, she realized, this was going to happen. I’m about to kiss my boss.