Part 19 (2/2)
”But a talkative, loud one. Loud enough that she hasn't been able to find more work. He's dragged her good name through the mud. Spread it around that she's willing to leave a writer in the lurch.”
Griffin froze. While he'd been loath to ditch his deadline because of the ding to his rep, he could see how much harder Jane would take the professional hit. He heard her voice in his head on the day she went to visit her father: success is the only option.
”You said you know her dad?”
”Brilliant guy. Cold as a fish.”
His legs suddenly restless, Griffin popped up from the couch, crossing to the window, then circling the room. There on the table were those girlie shoes, that slithery dress, the evidence that he'd held a naked Jane in his arms.
n.o.body's ever tried to put me first.
”So you see, Griffin, if you're not going to get serious on this project, you need to cut her loose, quick, so she can find another client. Have a real success. Reputation and word of mouth are everything in her line of work.”
The information tumbled through his brain and roiled his belly. Before he could answer Frank, before he knew how he would answer Frank, the bedroom door snicked open. Carrying her small duffel bag, Jane wore a straight khaki skirt, a white T-s.h.i.+rt made like mummy bandages and a pair of glossy flat shoes the color of new money. Her color was high, and her mouth was swollen. If you looked closely-he did and found himself s.h.i.+fting forward before he stopped himself-you could see that the edges of her lips were blurred by the slight burn his stubble had left behind. Her glance flicked to Frank and then transferred to Griffin.
Their gazes locked. This could end now, he thought. Right this moment he could tell Jane he wasn't going to write the book, and Frank would pack her up and take her away. He would never have to see her again, not those too-clear eyes, not her crazy shoes. Never again would he have to wonder what decadent underwear she wore.
Never let himself think that if he hadn't been a part of ruining her career, he sure as h.e.l.l hadn't been involved in saving it either.
n.o.body's ever tried to put me first.
He crossed to her and s.n.a.t.c.hed her small bag out of her hand. His decision had been made. Self-aware enough to acknowledge the ice inside him had been compromised and what came next would risk further damage, he gritted his teeth as he stalked toward the door. He didn't know how he was going to do it without getting screaming ugly, but real life back at the cove meant writing that G.o.dd.a.m.n memoir. ”Let's go, honey-pie. We've got work to do at Beach House No. 9.”
JANE AND GRIFFIN were stuck in traffic on an infamous stretch of the 405 freeway, but she finally felt as if she'd made some progress. Things were going her way professionally. And on the personal side, her Ian-related demons had been banished. Last night's escapade between the sheets had been good for her ego.
Only two things kept her from bouncing in her seat. One, she was a little tender in certain places, and two, she didn't think her driver shared her good mood. He sat, silent and still, behind the wheel of his boxy vintage BMW.
Nevertheless, it appeared the tide had turned in her favor. When she'd ventured from the bedroom this morning-a little uncertain, she'd admit, since she'd woken alone and the only evidence he was still in the suite was the scent of fresh coffee-he'd been standing on the other side of the door, an unreadable expression on his face. ”We've got work to do,” he'd said, and she might have disbelieved the seriousness of the statement if Frank hadn't been in the room as well. Griffin wouldn't have made the declaration in front of his agent unless he meant it.
Darling Frank.
”He looked good,” she mused aloud, then darted a glance to her left. ”Frank, I mean.”
Griffin grunted. ”He told me he's been eating tutu.”
”Huh?”
A smile hitched the corner of his mouth. ”Tofu.”
She laughed, even as she stared at that small curve of his lips. He hadn't shaved, and dark whiskers peppered his jaw and chin. It would have made for a p.r.i.c.kly kiss if he'd woken her with one.
She wouldn't have turned away from it.
No, no! She would have turned away from it. That was their agreement, right? They'd decided that what happened that night in the hotel room would stay in that hotel room. Meaning she wouldn't have let it happen again this morning.
She wouldn't let it happen again, period.
He looked toward her as if he'd heard her little sigh. ”You know Frank's wife, Raeanne?”
”Sure. I've babysat for Tim and Amy on occasion.”
”Nice of you.” His attention turned out the winds.h.i.+eld as the line of cars started to move.
”Nice of them,” she said, her voice light. ”I needed the extra cash.”
Griffin muttered darkly.
”What's that?”
His gaze slid right again, and she felt it like a touch. Then, as the cars in front of them came to a stop, he did just that, he touched her, his hand sliding beneath her hair to cup the nape of her neck. His thumb stroked her cheek, and her belly clenched. Between her thighs there was an instant swelling heat. Tingling.
She held her breath, trying to disguise her reaction. But when his thumb moved again, a s.h.i.+very chill ran down her neck and made her nipples tighten against the cups of her bra. Surely he couldn't miss the flush blossoming over her skin.
”Jane.” His fingers gave her neck a little squeeze. ”About last night...”
No! Were there three words a person wanted less to hear? Her annoyed glance bounced off him, and she squirmed against the soft leather. Did he think he needed to reiterate theirs was a one-night thing? Didn't she know that? It had been a great one-night thing-she hoped for him too-but she'd set the terms herself.
n.o.body knew better than Jane that going any deeper could lead to professional and personal disaster. A woman had to protect herself from that.
Just as she opened her mouth to make clear she knew the score, a deafening noise blasted. A blur of movement raced past her window. With a little shriek, Jane jumped, dislodging Griffin's hand.
”d.a.m.n motorcycle,” he said, glaring out the winds.h.i.+eld.
Her startled heart settled as she realized what had happened. A guy on a wicked-looking two-wheeled vehicle was weaving through the traffic ahead, using the s.p.a.ce between automobiles to create his own lane. Blowing out a breath of air, she noted Griffin continued to glower in that direction.
Then he shook himself and cast a quick glance at her. ”Where were we?”
No place they needed to return to, Jane decided, and grasped for a different subject. ”You don't like motorcycles?” she asked.
”Hate 'em.”
Weird. ”I thought men had a thing for those kind of machines-something about all that horsepower between their thighs....” The instant the words left her mouth her mind tumbled back to the night before. Griffin on top of her, his body driving into hers, her legs wrapped around his hips. It had been so long for her that her inner flesh could still feel his imprint. Her face went hot again.
”Jane?” Griffin sounded amused. ”What's going through your head?”
As if she'd tell. ”I'm just curious,” she said, holding tight to this new thread of conversation. ”A risk taker like yourself, an open road, a Harley-Davidson. Is there no appeal whatsoever?”
”Zero.” He ran a hand over his hair. It was longer now, long enough for her to see the crisp darkness was thick and straight. ”We had a couple of trail bikes as kids. Riding them almost killed my brother. I almost killed my brother.”
She stared at him when he didn't elaborate. ”You can't leave it at that.”
The traffic had slowed again, and as he braked he threw her a look. ”Did anyone ever tell you you're way too curious?”
She supposed she was. Another woman, knowing there was nothing for her beyond a one-night stand, would have curtailed any further thoughts about being in Griffin's bed. To daydream about what it would be like to be there again, to be able to stroke those lean muscles and lick at his hard mouth and run her palm down his erection to see if she could make him tremble as she had when he'd placed that first light kiss to her nipple. That kiss and every other had ignited a fire in her, and she'd been desperate to experience the burn.
”My brother's the real risk taker,” Griffin said now.
<script>