That did it. His smile fell and a cold expression chilled his features. He sat back and took a giant swig of whiskey that seemed to go on forever. He finally set his empty cup down and made a face. “It’s for charity.”
She almost laughed out loud at his disgusted expression. “And you hate being charitable?”
“Hardly.” He snorted. “I’d much rather throw millions of dollars at a charity by hosting a dinner; even the ball that the old man’s throwing is a good idea. Ten thousand dollars a head is a good way to bring in money to the foundation. It’s the whole auction part that’s…” He cursed. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about you?”
“You’re much more interesting.” He’d brought up a blanket and she tried pulling it over her ankle, but before she could do it herself Brock was at her side. He pulled the blanket over her and within the same breath he lifted her foot, sat down next to her, and placed her leg over his lap.
Jane’s breath hitched as he ran his fingers over her ankle in a smooth caress before locking eyes with her. “Is this okay?”
She gave him a jerky nod, mentally groaning at how eager she must look for his touch, his proximity.
Oh, this was bad.
So bad.
His hand started to move up her calf. Oh, this was good, so very good.
“You were saying.” Somehow, miraculously, she found her voice as he continued to lightly knead the muscles in her calf.
“The auction is stupid. Plain and simple.”
She frowned. “Then why did you say yes?”
His hand froze and he went completely still. “Saying no wasn’t an option.”
“But…” Her eyes narrowed. “You always have a choice.”
“It would seem that way. I believe that’s how life is supposed to work—you’re in control of your own destiny, you always have a choice, but what people never admit is that although you can say no to something, there might be horrible consequences. Which basically means it’s not really a choice. The word ‘choice’ is just there so that it seems fair, so that it looks good, so the situation looks balanced, when it’s never been balanced, not for a long time.”
Jane wasn’t sure if they were still talking about the auction or something else.
“So, what do you think about the auction? Don’t lie and say you have no opinion about it, either.”
A smile teased the corners of her mouth. “Clearly you know me well.”
“All women have an opinion.”
“And all men are led by their stomachs.” She winked.
He licked his lips. “Among other things, yes.”
“I, uh…” She twisted her hands in her lap, suddenly nervous. “I think that it’s nice that you’re willing to put your future in the hands of a grandfather with a desire to go to raves at the age of eighty-two.”
Brock groaned as his head fell back against the couch. “Ugh, tell me about it.”
“It’s…cute,” she said, trying to make him feel better.
“Cute,” he repeated, still not looking at her. “Cute.”
He said it a few more times before glancing at her.
“What?” She rubbed her lips together.
“A man my age doesn’t want to be cute.”
“Your age?”
“Hey, you’re the one that called me old.”
“You’re thirty-five.”
“I know my age, thank you.”
“So maybe according to my twenty-two years you seem old. That’s all I meant.” She smiled as his face paled.
“T-twenty two?” He stared at her. Hard. “You’re twenty-two?”
“You say it like I’m diseased.”
His mouth dropped open and closed. “I suddenly feel like a cradle robber.”
“Because I’m a child?” She pulled the blanket closer, needing the protection, thinking that if she could just bury her body into it, he wouldn’t see how his words affected her.
“Shit.” He took one look at her expression and leaned across the couch and cupped her face. “I didn’t mean that. I just…it took me by surprise, that’s all.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry; maybe I’m more tired than I thought. I should probably go back to bed.”
“I’ll join you,” Brock added then stumbled over his words. “I mean, I’ll take you. Damn it, sorry. Clearly we’re both tired.”
She didn’t have a chance to say anything more before he picked her up and carried her slowly up the stairs, careful not to bang her ankle on the wall. Once they were back in her bedroom he placed her on the bed and pulled the covers over her, his eyes searching, yearning, as raw emotion raged like a war across his dark features.
Did he want something more from her? Did he feel the electric pull between them, too? So many times it seemed like he had more to say, like he wanted to pull her into his arms and devour her. Just the thought had a shiver running down her spine.
God knew, she wanted him.
Even though she knew she would end up without him in the end, it didn’t make her feelings toward him go away, though she wished they would.