Читать книгу Sensual Secrets - Jo Leigh - Страница 10

DAMN, HE WAS GOOD. The look on her face was everything he’d hoped. Surprised…no, astonished, confused, vulnerable. Perfect. And oddly touching.

Funny how he felt as if he knew her more intimately than reading her journal should allow. Or maybe it was just the remnants of his youthful romanticism that spurred this sentimental streak. This was about sex, and he didn’t want to forget that. And it wasn’t just for his sake, either. Amelia needed help. She’d said it herself. She needed someone like him to set her free. Hell, he was doing her a favor.

“You saw me in your dream?”

He nodded, holding her gaze steady with his own. “It was the most vivid dream I’ve ever had.”

She nibbled her lower lip. He wanted to offer his services in that regard, but that wasn’t part of the plan. It would take all his determination, but he wasn’t going to deviate, not an inch. Unfortunately, the longer he studied her face, the tighter his pants got.

He leaned forward, curious to see if she’d shy away. When he was near enough to feel her warm breath on his lips, her eyes closed and her lips parted. He paused, his desire to keep going, to taste her, nearly breaking him. But at the last second, he remembered the larger goal. He jerked backward and jumped to his feet.

Of course Amelia’s eyes snapped open, and her gasp made several people turn her way.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a small step backward. “I had no right.”

She reached out, touched the sleeve of his jacket for an instant, then pulled back. “It’s okay. Honestly.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not. I was out of line. You’re not the kind of woman who—” He stopped. Took another half step back.

“Not the kind of woman who’d what?” she asked, her voice sharper, deeper.

“Who’d go off with a guy like me. That would be reckless. Crazy.”

It was as if his words had pricked her ego, and she deflated before him. Her shoulders curved, her hand went to her lap, but what happened to her eyes made him wince. All the fire that had been alive in her green gaze a moment ago vanished, replaced with resignation and a sadness that was palpable.

He touched her hair. “I meant that as a compliment.”

“Of course you did.”

His fingers moved to her chin, and he lifted her face gently. “Amelia, come have lunch with me.”

“What?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Why?”

The question caught him slightly off guard. Not because he hadn’t rehearsed an answer, but because he wasn’t quite so certain he was playing a role. “There’s something about you.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure what it is. Maybe the way you were in my dream.”

Her soft pink blush made her that much more beautiful. Untouched, sweet. God, she must taste like honey.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice so soft he barely heard her. “It’s not funny.”

He sat down again, then took both her hands in his. The feel of her skin scrambled his thoughts for a moment, but a deep breath pulled him back. “I’m not trying to be funny, Amelia.” He leaned forward a hair, and lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you a secret. I don’t like the coffee here. And I’ve got my own computer. But I come by almost every day. If you’re not here, I move on.”

She blinked, surprised, and he pictured her looking up at him as he made her come. As her mouth opened while she gasped with pleasure, her cheeks flushed, her hair a wild tangle on his pillows.

“I…”

Her little voice broke the spell, and he refocused. “What, Amelia?”

“I don’t understand.”

Something shifted in his chest. Just for a second—nothing major. He wasn’t going all soft or anything. But his resolve strengthened and he knew he wasn’t going to quit until this woman realized how beautiful she could be. “You’re a pearl, Amelia. An undiscovered pearl hiding in your shell.” He stood, held his hand out to her. “Please.”

The poor kid looked scared to death. He wished she could see he wasn’t going to hurt her. That this could be the beginning of something remarkable for both of them.

And maybe she did know that, because she stood and put her hand in his.

SHE FELT HIS STRENGTH through his fingers, his confidence when he led her to the door. He didn’t let go of her—not when she walked outside, not down the block and around the corner. She had no idea where they were going, which should have been alarming, but it wasn’t. Maybe she was in shock. Believing him had been so easy. It wasn’t the words he used—although they were perfect—but the way he looked at her.

At first, she was just captivated by the deep, milk-chocolate brown eyes, the spiky lashes so thick they would have looked false on a woman. But their beauty was overshadowed by the concern she saw there, the earnestness.

He could be a con artist. Or he could be leading her down the garden path so he could humiliate her. Or he could have dreamed her dream, and this really was fate.

He stopped, and it took her a few seconds to realize they were at the Green Lips Café. She’d never eaten here, it was out of her price range—but she’d heard wonderful things about the food.

“After you,” he said, holding the door open for her.

Her hesitation lasted only a moment. She’d eat macaroni and cheese all week if she had to. She wasn’t going to back out now.

The decor inside was funky eclectic, with original oil paintings on the wall, all of them bright, odd, great. The waiters were young, and moving fast.

“Jay, good to see you.”

A tall, elegant woman with short black hair kissed him on his cheeks European style. Jay smiled. “We’d like a table for two, Elaine. As private as you can make it.”

Elaine shifted her gaze to Amelia, giving her a quick once-over, and Amelia wished she’d worn her coat. Her shapeless dress hung on her like a potato sack, and she felt ashamed. She shouldn’t have come. She was out of her league in a world she usually tried to avoid.

But then he took her hand, and they followed Elaine through the restaurant. The woman was taller than Amelia, almost as tall as Jay. Her cropped pants hugged her slim hips, and her knit top showed off her figure. Kathy would have worn that outfit. Donna, too.

“Here you are,” Elaine said, putting the large menus on a table close to the window. “Enjoy.”

Jay pulled out a chair for her, and she sat, wishing she’d thought this through. She didn’t belong here. But her self-castigation stopped abruptly when Jay took off his leather jacket. He wore a knit shirt, something old, like from the fifties. Short sleeves left his lower arms bare, and for that she was very grateful. He was so beautiful, so strong. His muscles flexed when he moved, and when he ran a hand through his unruly hair, she nearly whimpered. His chest. Oh my.

He sat across from her. She wished he was closer.

“The mussels are the specialty of the house,” he said.

She bit her lip to stop from laughing. She could never have explained.

“But the ahi is always fresh and great,” he went on. “If you’re not into fish, they make a mean pasta primavera.”

She ducked behind her menu. Everything was very expensive. The whole city was wildly overpriced, but she’d learned how to live on a strict budget. One meal here was worth a whole week of dinners. If she ordered an appetizer and a soda, she wouldn’t completely break the bank.

Having made her decision, she put the menu aside, to find Jay staring at her. She abandoned herself to her blush. There was no use fighting it. She was just pleased her nervous reaction wasn’t hiccups or flatulence.

“Would you like a drink? A cosmopolitan? Or a martini?”

“No, thank you,” she said. “I’m not much of a drinker. I’d prefer a soda.”

“Done.” He signaled the waiter, and they ordered two sodas, and two appetizers—her pot stickers and his steamed mussels. Then, it was just the three of them—herself, Jay and the uncomfortable silence.

He didn’t seem troubled. In fact, he looked satisfied, almost cocky. But then, when had she ever seen him when he hadn’t looked that way? What gave him the confidence? It shocked her to realize she had a crush on a man she didn’t know at all. It was only one step away from idolizing a rock star, which had always seemed foolish and a little pathetic. Was this any better? Taking a deep breath full of courage, she leaned forward and said, “Tell me.”

“What?”

“Your life.”

He laughed. “From conception or birth?”

“Birth is fine.

He laughed again, his rich baritone making her shiver inside. “I don’t think we’ll have time for my whole life.”

“Okay, then. Tell me the important things. The things that shaped you.”

His smile slackened as his gaze intensified. “You surprise me.”

“I do?”

“Don’t worry. That’s a plus.”

She didn’t want to talk about herself. There wasn’t much to say, after all. At least, nothing he would find interesting. But if she could get him talking, she could forget about herself. She might not be able to put two words together without blushing, but she wasn’t afraid to ask questions. “Please?”

He leaned back in the wooden chair, clearly debating whether he would oblige. If he didn’t, well, then, she’d deal with it, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Most people loved to talk about themselves. She’d used the deflection technique for years, and it never failed her. Once her companions started talking, she could relax. Not only did she feel more comfortable, but she learned a lot, too. It amazed her how people would go on if they weren’t interrupted.