The Consequence of Seduction (Consequence #3)

Which just pissed her off more.

So tears—the kind I was about 99 percent sure were going to start flowing freely from Jordan’s eyes—freaked me out.

“Er.” I looked frantically around her sparse living room. Where was the wine? The chocolate? The cuddly teddy bear that I could chuck in her general direction to distract her enough so I could make a run for it?

“I’m homeless!” she wailed, wobbling on her legs. I took a tentative step backward and covered my nether region, in case she wanted to take out her bad day on the entire male gender, and not wanting to be the one she made an example out of.

“There, there.” I coughed into my right hand while the left kept its protective goalie-like stance. “It will be all right.”

She blinked her big brown eyes up at me. “If you pat my head, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Good thing she warned me, because I was just about to pat her head—like a dog—and possibly scratch behind her ear and ask if it made her feel better. I might be really good at flirting and getting a girl to fall for me, but I was shit at real emotions. I didn’t cry over women—they cried over me. Plain and simple.

“So.” I licked my lips. “It seems your hands are full here, so I’ll just . . . keep in touch? Maybe we can do lunch tomorrow?”

“Do. Lunch,” she repeated, her eyes widening into an expression that looked a hell of a lot like the beginnings of a toddler meltdown.

“Yeah.” I gulped. “Food always makes me feel better, so . . . you know, now you’ll have something to look forward to.”

Somehow I was making the situation worse, if the red on her cheeks was any indication.

“Reid, I have no home. I have to move out of my apartment while trying to keep your sorry ass out of a media firestorm, and you expect me to do all of that how? If I lose my job and my home—” She blanched. “Oh my gosh, I can’t, I can’t lose my job!”

“I think you’re overreacting,” I said dryly.

Jordan flashed me another terrifying look that had me taking a step closer to the door. Almost there. Freedom. So close. I reached for the doorknob just as she said. “I know!”

My entire body felt like it had just been electrocuted. Looking back on this moment, I’d recognize it for what it really was—somehow she’d channeled whatever superpowers Max possessed and shifted the universe, deciding my future, my destiny, without ever asking my opinion in the first place.

“You.” Jordan stalked toward me. “You have an apartment.”

It was the perfect opportunity to lie. Really, I was an actor. I could make her believe I’d sold my penthouse within the last twenty-four hours because I wanted to live on the streets.

In a box.

Or a cart.

Hell, I could have said I was renovating, right? Joined the circus?

But her face.

I was always a sucker for a pretty face.

And hers was more than pretty; it was pathetic pretty. Large brown eyes blinked up at me, their innocent trust making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Damn it! I needed to look away.

But I couldn’t.

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

She put her hands on her hips, which drew me in more, because damn, did the girl have some delicious curves on her. What was that smell? Her perfume? I was falling . . . oh, no, it was happening . . . she was using her feminine wiles on me. And I was a powerless bastard.

I needed someone to hit me over the head with a cement block.

Instead, she fluttered her eyelashes twice.

And I hung my head and muttered, “Grab a suitcase.”

“Yes!” Jordan jumped into the air, then launched herself into my arms, nearly sending me flying backward. Her legs wrapped around my waist and suddenly she was kissing me on the mouth, then hopping down before my body had time to register that the gorgeous woman had all but pressed her goodies against mine. “You’re the best!”

Wait! My body tightened. I should at least get sex out of the deal, right?

As a thank-you?

“At least first base,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Pardon?” Her eyebrow arched, making me feel ten inches tall.

“Just, uh . . .” I scratched my head. “Sorry, it’s a sports metaphor, you know, pass first base, the hardest base, and you’re home free!”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “For a minute there I thought you were asking for a sexual favor.”

“Never!” Hell, yes, I was. Instead I broke eye contact and rubbed my hands together. “Let’s grab your shit and go.”

Jordan rolled her eyes and disappeared into the bedroom while I shakily leaned against the wall and wondered what the hell I’d just agreed to.