Читать книгу Falling for King's Fortune / Seduction, Westmoreland Style: Falling for King's Fortune - Maureen Child, Brenda Jackson - Страница 7

One

“I’ve been stood up.” Jackson King closed his cell phone with a snap. Setting his empty glass down on the lustrously polished bar top, he signaled the bartender, Eddie, an older man with knowing eyes, to fill it again.

“Well,” Eddie said, “I think this is a first for you, isn’t it? You losing your touch?”

Jackson snorted a laugh and leaned deeper into the cushioned back of the dark red bar stool. Swiveling it a half turn, he glanced over the dimly lit room behind him. The Hotel Franklin, the only five-star hotel between the tiny town of Birkfield and Sacramento, boasted one of the best bars in the state.

It was also conveniently close to the King family airfield where Jackson spent most of his time. He kept a suite in the hotel for those nights when he was too tired to drive home and thought of the elegant bar almost as his office.

“Oh hell no. That’s never going to happen. Wasn’t a woman who blew me off, Eddie,” Jackson said with a grin. “My cousin Nathan canceled on me. His assistant was driving his car to his mountain place and had problems. Nathan to the rescue.”

“Ah.” The bartender nodded. “Good to know you’re not slipping. Thought maybe it was a sign of the apocalypse or something.”

He did have good luck with women, Jackson mused. Or at least, he always had. Soon enough, all of that would be over. He frowned a little at the thought.

“Something wrong?” The bartender asked.

Jackson shot him a look. “Nothing I want to talk about.”

“Right. Another drink. Coming right up.”

While he waited, Jackson let his gaze slide around the elegantly appointed bar. The room gleamed with a warm glow as discreet lighting reflected off the wood walls and marble floors. The mahogany bar itself curved around the room in a sinuous bend that was nearly artistic. Tall, high-backed red leather stools were pulled up to the bar inviting patrons to sit and stay awhile. Small round tables spotted the floor, each of them boasting flickering candlelight. And the soft, lazy strains of jazz piped in through overhead speakers.

In this bar a man could relax and a lone woman could enjoy a quiet drink without being hassled. At the moment, the place was practically empty. There were two couples at the tables and at the far end of the bar, a woman sat alone, like Jackson. Instinctively, Jackson’s gaze fixed on the blond woman and he smiled. She gave him a long, sly look that fired his blood before returning her attention to her martini.

“She’s a looker all right,” Eddie muttered as he refilled Jackson’s glass with his favorite, Irish whiskey.

“What?”

“The blonde.” The bartender risked a quick look himself. “Saw you spot her. She’s been sitting over there for an hour, nursing that one drink and acting like she’s waiting for someone.”

“Yeah?” Jackson took a longer look. Even from a distance there was something about the woman that made his blood start to hum. He began to think that maybe Nathan not showing up was a very good thing.

“Can’t imagine anyone standing her up,” Eddie said as he moved off to fill another order.

Jackson couldn’t either. This was a woman who demanded a man’s attention. He watched her long fingers move up and down the stem of her martini glass in slow strokes and his body jerked to attention as strongly as if her hand was moving across his skin.

She looked up and her gaze slammed into his. He couldn’t see her eyes from here, but he had a feeling there was a knowing gleam in them. She knew he was watching her. Had probably done the whole stroke-the-crystal thing on purpose to get his attention. Well congratulations, babe, it worked.

Picking up his drink, Jackson casually walked the length of the bar, slipping from lamplight to shadow, his gaze continually fixed on the blonde who watched his approach. As he got closer, he could appreciate the view even more.

She smiled, and a blast of something hot and driving roared up inside him. He hadn’t felt anything like that in…well, ever. Instantaneous heat. Even from a distance, she was affecting him in ways he never would have expected. Possibilities opened up in front of him as he closed the distance between them.

She swiveled on the bar stool as he approached and Jackson took that moment to size her up completely. She wasn’t very tall, maybe five foot five, but she was wearing sky-high, black-heeled sandals that would give her an extra few inches. Her blond hair was short, cut close to her head, and small gold hoops in her ears twinkled in the light as she tipped her head to look at him. Her sapphire-blue dress had long sleeves, a full, short skirt and a V neck that dipped low enough to showcase breasts that were just the right size.

Her big eyes were blue and focused on him and one corner of her mouth was tipped up in an inviting smile as he stopped beside her.

“This seat taken?”

“It is now,” she said and her voice was a whisper that sounded like long nights and lazy mornings.

He shot his cuffs, straightened his dark red tie, slid onto the stool beside hers and said, “I’m Jackson and you’re beautiful.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Does that line always work?”

He nodded to her in acknowledgement. “More often than not. How’s it doing tonight?”

“I’ll let you know after you buy me another drink.”

Oh yeah. He’d have to remember to thank Nathan for blowing him off tonight. Turning, he signaled Eddie for a refill, then looked back at her. Close up, her eyes were as blue as the deep sapphire of her dress. Her mouth was tinted a deep pink and her lips were lush and full, tempting him to lean in and take what he wanted.

But he could wait. Waiting was half the fun.

“So, do I get to know your name?”

“Casey. You can call me Casey.”

“Pretty name.”

“Not really,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “My full name is Cassiopeia.”

Jackson grinned. “Well, that’s prettier.”

She returned the smile and Jackson could have sworn he actually felt his blood start to simmer. The woman packed a hell of a punch with that smile.

“No, it’s really not. Not when you’re ten years old and your friends have names like Tiffany or Brittney or Amber…”

“So, you went with the short version.”

She glanced up at Eddie with a murmured “thank you,” as the bartender delivered her bright green Appletini. “I did,” she said. “And have my father to thank for it. My mother loved Greek myths, hence my name. My father loved baseball. Hence the nickname.”

Jackson blinked, then laughed, getting the connection instantly. “Casey Stengel?”

Surprise flickered briefly in her eyes. “I’m impressed that you know the name. Most in our generation don’t.”

Jackson eased into the conversation, realizing he was having a good time. It was more than just her sex appeal, he was enjoying talking to her, too. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. “Please. You’re talking to a man who still has truckloads of his old baseball cards carefully tucked away in storage.”

She lifted her drink, put her lips around the straw and sucked. Jackson went hard as stone in an instant. His mouth was dry and his heartbeat thundered in his ears. He wasn’t sure if she was deliberately trying to set him on fire, but whether she was or not, the result was the same.

While he watched, she crossed her legs in a slow slide of skin against skin and one sandaled foot began to swing. One of her hands cupped the bowl of her drink glass while the other stroked the stem, as she’d done before.

Now he was sure she was doing it deliberately. Because her dark blue eyes were fixed on his as if she were measuring his reaction. Well, he’d been playing this kind of game for years. She’d see what he wanted her to see and nothing else.

When she set her drink down, she swept her tongue across her top lip as if searching for any errant drops of liquor. Jackson’s gaze followed the motion and his insides fisted even tighter. Damn, she was good.

“So, Casey,” he asked idly, “what are your plans for the evening?”

“I don’t have any,” she admitted. “You?”

His gaze dropped from her face to her breasts and back up again. “Nothing special until a few minutes ago. Now, I can think of a few ideas off the top of my head.”

She chewed at her bottom lip as if she were suddenly nervous, but he wasn’t buying it. Her moves were all too smooth. She was far too sure of herself. She’d set out to seduce him and she was doing a hell of a job of it.

Ordinarily, Jackson preferred to be the one making the moves. But tonight, he was willing to make an exception. Mainly because the deed was done and he wanted her more than he wanted to take another breath. “Why don’t you let me buy you dinner at the hotel restaurant? We could get to know each other a little better.”

She smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. Glancing around, as if to assure herself the two of them were secluded at the shadowy, far end of the bar, she looked back at him and said, “I’m not really in the mood for dinner, thanks.”

“Really?” Intrigued again, he asked, “Then what?”

“Actually, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I first saw you.”

Good. She was going to be as upfront about this as he planned to be. “I’m a big believer in going after what you want.”

“I’ll bet you are,” she murmured.

Her voice sounded breathless and he could feel her tension in the air. A tension he shared. All Jackson could think about was kissing her. Forget dinner. The only taste he wanted in his mouth was her.

Oh, he definitely owed Nathan.

“The question,” Jackson said quietly, his gaze linking with hers, daring her to look away, “is whether or not you believe in doing exactly what you want.”

“Why don’t we find out?” She leaned forward and he met her halfway, more than eager to get a taste of this woman. In mere minutes, she’d driven him to the edge of a raw desire the likes of which he’d never known before.

Their lips met and in that instant, electricity hummed between them. There was no other way to describe it. Jackson felt the burn, the rush, and gave himself up to it. There in the shadows, his mouth moved over hers, his blood practically steaming in his veins.

Her scent—lavender—filled him and clouded his mind. All he could concentrate on was the incredible feel of her mouth on his, even as he told himself to pull back. To not push this too far too fast. This was something he wanted to enjoy. To revel in. And to do that, they’d need somewhere more private than the darkened end of a luxurious bar.

But as he shifted to break the kiss, she reached up, threaded her fingers through his hair and held him in place. Her mouth opened to him, inviting a deeper kiss, even as her fingers pulled hard enough at his hair to pull out several strands.

He jerked back, laughed shortly and said, “Ow.”

She blushed, bit down on her bottom lip and let her hand slide from the back of his head. “Sorry,” she said, her voice a whisper of sound that tugged at his insides. “Guess you bring out the wild in me.”

She was doing the same damn thing to him. Forget dinner. Forget getting to know each other. All he wanted at the moment was her under him. Over him. He’d never desired any woman so desperately as he did this one. And Jackson wasn’t a man to deny himself.

“I like wild,” he said and laid one hand on her knee, his fingertips sliding discreetly beneath the hem of that spectacular dress to touch her bare skin. “How wild are we talking?”

She took a breath, grabbed her clutch purse off the bar and dipped her hand inside as if she were looking for something. Then she snapped the bag closed again, lifted her gaze to his and said, “Um, I think maybe this was a mistake.”

“I think you’re wrong,” he said and smiled to himself as she jumped a little at the touch of his fingertips moving across her thigh. “I think you are feeling a little wild tonight. And I know I am.”

“Jackson…”

“Kiss me again.”

“There are people here,” she reminded him.

“Didn’t bother you a second ago.”

“Does now,” she said.

“Ignore them,” he coaxed. Not usually a man who liked an audience, he couldn’t care less about the sprinkling of people in the bar. He didn’t want to chance her cooling off, coming to her senses. He needed to kiss her again. To remind her what was sizzling between them. Besides, the lighting was so dim, and he and Casey were so far from anyone else, they might as well have been alone anyway. And right now, that was good enough.

Her gaze lifted to his and when he looked into her eyes, he saw her wavering. Good enough. Leaning in close to her again, he kept one hand on her leg, letting his fingers slide higher onto her thigh even as his mouth took hers again.

She inhaled sharply, deeply at the touch of his lips and an instant later, her inhibitions went out the window, just as he’d hoped they would. Her tongue tangled with his and when he leaned in closer, sliding his hand higher, she sighed into his mouth and shivered beneath his touch.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, when he’d managed to take his mouth from hers.

“I can’t.”

“Yes we can,” he said, fingers moving higher, higher up her thigh. She shifted instinctively, and he knew she was feeling the same burn he was. “I have a room upstairs.”

“Oh…” She took a breath, blew it out and shook her head. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

“Trust me, it’s the best idea I’ve had all day.” Abruptly, Jackson reached for his wallet, threw a hundred-dollar bill onto the bar, then tucked the wallet away again and took one of her hands in his. “Come with me.”

She looked up at him and even in the dim light, Jackson saw the sheen of something hot and needy in her eyes. She wasn’t going to refuse him. A moment later, she proved him right.

Standing up, she grabbed her clutch bag off the bar, and let him lead her from the room. He walked quickly, wanting to reach the elevator before she changed her mind. She kept up with him, the sound of her heels tapping out a quick rhythm on the floor that sounded like a frantic heartbeat.

Jackson wasted no time. The elevator doors dinged and swished open and he pulled his mystery woman inside. Before the doors were shut again, he turned her back to the wall and kissed her. His tongue swept inside, tangled with hers and he felt her surrender even as she lifted both arms to hook them around his neck. She held him close and arched her body into his as he pressed tighter and tighter to her.

Again and again, he ravaged her mouth and as he did, he shifted one hand, sliding up from her waist to cover one of her breasts. Even through the silky slide of the sapphire-blue fabric, he felt her erect nipple. Flicking its tender surface with his thumb, he listened to her moan and let that soft sound feed his own passions.

The doors opened again on the top floor and Jackson stepped back from her reluctantly. Her hair was a wild tumble, her eyes were glassy and her delicious mouth was puffy and swollen from his kisses. He wanted her desperately.

Heading down the hall, he opened the door to the suite that he kept, pulled her inside then slammed and locked the door again. In an instant, she was back in his arms.

No hesitation, no awkwardness, they came together as if they’d been touching each other for eternity. There were no games, only need. No shyness, only desire. No second thoughts, only a wild, frenzied passion blistering the air.

Jackson yanked the zipper of her dress and slid the shoulders and sleeves down her arms. He thanked whatever gods were listening that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were beautiful, just the right size and looked so tempting, he didn’t wait another moment.

Covering them with his hands, he pulled and tweaked with her hardened nipples and listened to Casey’s soft moans and whispers as if they were the sweetest music ever composed. He bent his head to taste first one erect bud and then the other and knew he had to have more of her.

Her hands at his shoulders tightened, holding him to her, even as she swayed from the impact of his actions.

“More,” he murmured, his tongue circling her nipple. “All.”

And he pushed her dress the rest of the way to the floor. It fell in a sapphire puddle at her feet and he helped her step out of it. Her fingers were at his suit coat now, shoving it off, then loosening his tie and tearing at the buttons of his shirt. His hands roamed over her amazing body, sliding over cool, lavender-scented skin again and again, as if he were trying to memorize every line, every curve.

Then her palms were on his naked chest and he felt the zing of heat slice into him. Quickly, he tore off the rest of his clothes, picked Casey up in his arms and carried her to the nearest flat surface. He wasn’t going to wait another moment. He had to have her. Be in her. Had to know what it was like to be surrounded by her heat.

“Now,” she whispered as he laid her down on the extra wide couch in the living room of the suite. She opened her legs for him, reached up her arms and in the pale wash of golden lamplight, her eyes burned an arctic blue. “Now, Jackson. I need…”

“Me too,” he admitted, willing to let her know just how affected he was by her. No games. No secrets. For this woman, this moment, he wanted her to know that from the first moment she’d smiled at him from across the room, he’d been aching for this.

Then the talking was over and all that was left to be said was said by their bodies. He entered her with one hard thrust and she gasped, arching into him, silently demanding he go deeper, harder, faster.

He did.

Every move she made only fed his need. Every response quickened the fires inside. Every touch, every slide of skin to skin, every gasp and moan and sigh worked together to push him higher than he’d ever been before. And Jackson wanted more.

He looked into her eyes when he felt her climax nearing. He watched as pleasure flashed across her face. He heard her gasp, felt her body’s tremors. Then she locked her legs around his hips to hold him tightly even as she rocked her hips and cried out his name.

Something inside Jackson burst wide open and seconds later, his body erupted, throwing him after her into the wild, surging storm.

Casey woke up in the middle of the night. Her body felt sore and stiff and, she silently admitted, fabulous. It had been a long time since she’d had sex. She’d almost forgotten how good it could make you feel.

Until the guilt started seeping in.

She wasn’t the one-night-stand kind of girl. She’d never done anything like this in her life and she was still trying to come to grips with the fact that she’d done it now.

Moonlight spilled into the hotel bedroom through the glass French doors leading to what she assumed was a balcony. She hadn’t really had a chance to explore the suite, after all. She’d gone from the couch to the bed and that was about the sum total of her “tour.”

God, Casey, what did you do?

Turning her head on the pillow, she looked at the sleeping man lying next to her. He was on his stomach, the silk duvet pulled up just over his hips. He had one arm stretched out toward her and Casey had to curl her fingers into her palms to keep from reaching out and smoothing his dark hair back from his forehead. In sleep, Jackson looked less dangerous, but hardly vulnerable.

There was still a hardness, a strength about him that seemed to resonate around him, even when sleeping. The man was a force of nature. She was lying there, naked and well used in his bed as a testament to that fact.

She hadn’t planned to have sex with him.

Although, what they’d shared couldn’t be called simply sex. Sex was just a biological function. At least, it always had been before that night. But what she’d shared with Jackson had gone way beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. Even now, hours after his last touch, her body was still humming. And that wasn’t a good thing.

Because she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Heck, she’d gotten what she’d come there for while they were still in the bar. How she’d allowed herself to end up in his bed was something she still wasn’t sure about.

The only thing she was certain of, was that it was beyond time for her to leave. Best she do that before he woke up and tried to stop her. Quietly, stealthily, she slipped from the massive bed and the air in the room felt cool against her bare skin.

Moonlight lay across the silk duvet-covered mattress, spotlighting Jackson’s broad, tanned, naked back in a silvery glow. He shifted in his sleep, and the duvet slid down his skin, revealing a paler swatch of flesh just below his waist. Casey took a breath and forced herself to look away. She didn’t need to be tempted to stay. This was not part of her plan. She’d already gone too far. Allowed her hormones and her need to sweep away rational thought.

Tiptoeing across the moonlit bedroom like a naked burglar, she hurried into the living room of the luxurious suite and in the dim light, wasted several minutes trying to spot her clothes. But she didn’t dare turn on a light. She didn’t want to chance waking him up. Didn’t want to risk him tempting her back into his arms. Into his bed.

“You are such an idiot,” she whispered, hardly able to believe she’d let herself get into such a situation. She was usually so much more careful. Restrained, even.

When she spotted her discarded dress, Casey grabbed it up, hitched herself into it and clumsily worked the back zipper. Shouldn’t these things be on the side? Finally, she was at least dressed—minus the panties that seemed to have disappeared. She picked up her heels and searched for her clutch bag. Finding it on the floor, half under the couch where she and Jackson had first come together. Swallowing hard, she avoided looking at the couch, snatched her purse and then headed for the front door.

She turned the knob carefully, opened the door and let the hallway light fall into the room in a narrow, golden slice. Before she stepped through the doorway though, Casey turned for one last look. She’d never been in a hotel room this elegant. She’d never been with a man like Jackson. In fact, this room, this man, were so far removed from her real life, that she felt like Cinderella at the end of the ball. The magic was over. The spell was ended.

She stepped into the hall, closed the door behind her and nearly ran to the elevator.

Time to get back to the real world.