“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No kidding.” He rose to his feet and strolled around the desk, then rested his ass against it. The desk she was trying not to think about.
“I know things have been a little”—he glanced at the desk and a smile flickered across his face—“uncomfortable between us lately.” He stroked a finger along the steel top of the desk, and for some reason she couldn’t yank her gaze away. It was around this time last week that she’d been lying on that very desk. She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs.
“But I like to think of us as friends,” Jake continued. “And I’m hoping that you’ll do this not so much because it’s part of the job, but because we are friends.”
“Oh, low blow.”
“You know what it’s like to be in a relationship you can’t get out of. I need your help here, Kim.”
“And another low blow.” But he sounded genuinely worried. He wouldn’t allude to Michael unless the situation was serious. And Jake had done everything for her. How could she contemplate not helping him now?
“Okay, I’ll be your girlfriend, but not your fiancée. That would be too weird with your family.”
“Okay, live-in lover then.”
“Pretend live-in lover.”
“Well, you can pretend the lover bit but not the live-in. You don’t have to worry, Kim,” he said gently. “From now on if you want us to have sex, you’ll have to ask.”
“I will?”
“I know I shocked you the other day.” He stroked a finger along the desk again, and a spasm rippled through her. “And I know you’ve been avoiding me. I’d like things to be comfortable between us again. So I want it to be clear—if you need anything from me, I’m here for you. You just have to tell me what you want. Otherwise…we’re friends.”
She swallowed. This was exactly what she wanted. Wasn’t it? On the surface, everything seemed perfect. Why did unease prickle through her, then? She pushed the feeling aside.
“Good. Right then, I’ll do it. Though I’m not sure what ‘it’ is. They don’t cover this in the manual.”
“Well, for a start, you’ll need a dress.”
…
It was still early, and all was quiet. Kim peered around the door. She didn’t want a repeat of the last morning she’d woken in Jake’s spare room. Not that she believed that would happen—Jake had said the next move must come from her, and he was a man of his word.
She needed coffee, so she dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, ready for her shopping trip, and headed for the kitchen.
She’d moved in last evening, and so far, Jake had been the perfect host.
He hadn’t touched her. Unfortunately, that didn’t matter. She was hot and bothered being in the same house as him. She tried to remember how she’d felt living with Michael. Michael had been controlling, he’d picked her clothes, decided where she went, who she went with. And she’d been too ashamed by how pathetic he’d insinuated she was to fight him. And too scared by the despair twisting her mind to find a way out. She understood now that it hadn’t all been Michael, but that she had never come to terms with her mother’s death or the belief that her mother had felt trapped in a loveless marriage, like Kim had come to feel. Never talked to anyone about it, just let her fears and suspicions fester inside her. Marriage to Michael brought her face-to-face with those fears. And that had nearly broken her.
She wouldn’t get into that situation ever again. And while she loved Jake dearly as a friend, she had no illusions as to his nature. He liked to be in control.
But he was obviously on his best behavior right now.
Kim was on her second cup of coffee when he made an appearance. She glanced up and then quickly away. “Er…clothes would be good here,” she muttered into her mug.
He’d obviously showered. His black hair glistened with moisture, he smelled of soap and aftershave, and he was utterly stunning, all sleek muscle and golden skin wrapped up in a tiny white towel. Her eyes locked on the place where it was tucked in at his hips. It seemed a little precarious. One tug and…
She went all hot and wet just looking at him, but luckily, from his bland expression, he didn’t seem to notice her reaction.
Why did his blandness make her uneasy? Like she was missing an important part of some big picture.
He moved with the grace of a great jungle cat, prowling the kitchen, pouring himself a coffee, and finally settling in the chair opposite, long, hair-roughened legs stretched out in front of him. “Did you sleep well?”
No, she hadn’t. She’d tossed, and she’d turned. “Good, thanks.”
He scrutinized her from head to toe—she was completely covered—and frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“You seem flustered, that’s all.”
Maybe a little truth was needed here. “I’m not used to having breakfast with nearly naked men.”