“No, of course not. I just made love to you all last night because I thought you were a troll.” Ryan sent her one of those male looks that clearly stated he thought she was temporarily bat-lolly insane.
“Oh.” Jaci felt heat creep across her face. She noticed him clenching and releasing his fists as if he were trying to stop himself from reaching for her. And in a flash she could feel the thump-thump-thump of her own heart, could hear the sound as clearly as she could read the desire in his eyes.
Ryan Jackson hadn’t had nearly enough of her or, she had to admit, her of him. One more time, Jaci told herself, she could give herself the present of having, holding, feeling Ryan again. He wanted her, she wanted him, so what was the problem?
Career, Banks, sleeping with your boss? Jaci ignored the sensible angel on her shoulder and slid off her chair, her body heating from the inside out and her stomach and womb taking turns doing tumbles and backflips inside her body.
“One more time,” she muttered as she stroked her hand up Ryan’s chest to grip his neck and pull his mouth down to hers.
“Why do I suspect that’s not going to be enough?” Ryan muttered, his lips a fraction from hers.
“It has to be. Shut up and kiss me,” Jaci demanded, lifting herself up on her toes.
Ryan’s lips curved against hers. “Just as long as we won’t be married when we come up for air.”
“Funny.” Jaci just got the words out before Ryan took possession of her mouth, and then no words were needed.
* * *
Jaci, sitting in Ryan’s office four days later, was struggling to keep her pretend-you-haven’t-licked-me-there expression, especially now that their conversation had moved on from discussing the script changes he and Thom wanted. She hadn’t seen Ryan since she left his apartment the morning after the ballet; he hadn’t called, he hadn’t texted.
And that was the way it should be, she told herself. What they’d shared was purely bedroom based. It meant nothing more than two adults succumbing to a primal desire that had driven mankind for millennia. He’d wanted her, she’d wanted—God, that was such a tame word for the need he’d aroused in her!—him and that was all it was.
Then why did she want to ask him why his eyes looked bleak? Why did she want to climb into his lap, place her face into his neck and tell him that it would all work out? She wanted to massage the knots out of his neck, smooth away the frown between his heavy brows, kiss away the bracket that appeared next to his mouth. He was off-the-charts stressed and it was all her fault.
She’d put his relationship with his investor on the line. It was amazing that she was still discussing script changes, that he hadn’t fired her scrawny ass.
“Have you heard anything from Banks yet?” she demanded, pulling her gaze away from the view of the Hudson River.
Ryan looked startled at the sudden subject change. He exchanged a long look with Thom and after their silent communication, Thom stood up. “Actually...”
Thom lifted a hand and he ambled to the door. “You can explain. Later.”
Jaci’s eyebrows rose. “Explain what?”
Ryan tapped the nib of a pen on the pad of paper next to his laptop. “We’ve been invited to join a dinner on a luxury yacht tonight. The invitation came from Banks’s office. Apparently Leroy’s just bought himself an Ajello superyacht and this is its initial voyage. Lucky Leroy, those are only the best yachts in the world.”
Jaci stood up and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her pants.
“I like your outfit,” Ryan commented.
Jaci looked down at the deep brown leather leggings she’d teamed with a flowing white top and multiple strands of ethnic beads. It was nice to wear something other than black, she thought, and it made her feel warm and squirmy that Ryan approved. “I must be doing something right because a random man complimented my outfit in a coffee shop yesterday, as well.”
“Honey, any man under dead would’ve noticed those stupendous legs under that flirty skirt.” She saw the flare of heat in his eyes and looked down at her feet encased in knee-high leather boots. Damn but she really wanted to walk over to him and kiss him senseless. Her fingers tingled with the need to touch and her legs parted as if... Dear Lord, this was torture!
“I’m glad that the furor over our possible engagement has died down,” she said, trying to get her mind to stop remembering how fantastic Ryan looked naked.
“It was nothing that my PR firm couldn’t handle,” Ryan said, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands on his flat stomach. “As of the columns this morning, we’re still seeing each other, but any talk of marriage is for the very distant future.”