Книга - First Time For Everything

First Time For Everything
Aimee Carson


Jacqueline's new boss is none other than her best-friend's older brother, hot-shot lawyer Blake Bennington. His control freakery and his need to be always, always right would normally send fiery, unconventional Jax running a mile - but even she has to admit he looks edible in his bespoke suit!She's quickly realising she's way out of her depth - but with this contained, experienced guy, trying to get him to lose his cool is just a little too tempting…












Praise for Aimee Carson


‘Oh, my, what a fantastic debut by Aimee Carson. I loved it! It really has everything that I like in a good contemporary romance: a feisty heroine who is far from perfect, snappy dialogue and sizzling chemistry—and I mean sizzling. *That* scene in the elevator…phew! The romance and relationship between Alyssa and Paulo is actually quite simple, but perfectly done. Aimee’s writing flows beautifully, and she has created two great characters. I applaud her for Alyssa’s “bad girl” roots, I loved her! The book is well written and developed, with plenty of sass and sparkle. I can’t wait to read more from Aimee in the future.’ —www.everyday-is-the-same.blogspot.com on Secret History of a Good Girl




About the Author


The summer she turned eleven, AIMEE CARSON left the children’s section of the library and entered an aisle full of mills & boon


novels. she promptly pulled out a book, sat on the floor, and read the entire story. It has been a love affair that has lasted for over thirty years.

Despite a fantastic job working part-time as a physician in the Alaskan Bush (think Northern Exposure and ER, minus the beautiful mountains and George Clooney), she also enjoys being at home in the gorgeous Black Hills of South Dakota, riding her dirt bike with her three wonderful kids and beyond patient husband. But, whether at home or at work, every morning is spent creating the stories she loves so much. Her motto? Life is too short to do anything less than what you absolutely love. she counts herself lucky to have two jobs she adores, and incredibly blessed to be a part of Mills & Boon’s family of talented authors.

Recent titles by the same author:



SECRET HISTORY OF A GOOD GIRL

HOW TO WIN THE DATING WAR

DARE SHE KISS & TELL?

THE BEST MISTAKE OF HER LIFE


Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk




First Time For Everything

Aimee Carson







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Jacqueline “Jax” Lee, my heroine in this story,

constantly amazed me with her indomitable spirit and quirky sense of humor. So it’s only fitting that I dedicate this book to two of the strongest, funniest women I know: Wendy S. Marcus and Jennifer Probst. Not only are you both fabulous authors and my soul sisters, y’all somehow manage to keep me sane. I love you both.




CHAPTER ONE


RAY-BAN SUNGLASSES blocking the bright sun, Blake Bennington made his way down the courthouse steps, debating whether to ask Sara out before getting back to the office. Regardless of his decision, his fourteen-hour workday would have to be cut short for his appearance at the annual Moon Over Miami fundraiser tonight. Which meant, after ten hours in a tie, he was destined to trade his suit for a tux. But the discomfort would be a small price to pay given his sister Nikki’s involvement with the event was what had kept her out of trouble since her arrival back home.

Blake pushed the troublesome thoughts aside. “Thanks for the info, Sara.”

Beside him, the striking brunette in a power suit sent him a smile laced with a subtle come-hither vibe. Blake had been studiously sidestepping her interest since the first time they’d collaborated on the South Florida Drug Enforcement Task Force, years ago.

“Winning a guilty verdict in the Menendez case will solidify your chances for promotion, Blake,” she said. “I hope the file helps.”

“Every piece of information helps.” They reached the busy sidewalk and he stopped to face the beautiful lawyer. “Seriously,” he said. “I appreciate your time.”

“You know I’m always available,” Sara said as she brushed his arm with her fingers, and Blake bit back a smile.

Her touch seemed like a simple gesture, but he knew better.

Sara was classy. Poised. And intelligent. Known for being a bulldog in the courtroom, she possessed a dedication and pragmatism that rivaled his. Just the sort of woman Blake should date. Just the sort of woman Blake usually did date. One who understood his career goals and the time requirements.

So why was he hesitating?

While the question darted around his head, a passing lawyer stopped to ask Sara a question, and Blake paused, knowing he was a fool for ignoring the offer in her eyes. Nikki might be more of a time-consuming handful than a little sister had a right to be, not to mention the high-profile case that currently required his full attention, but he was a red-blooded man who enjoyed sex as much as the next guy. Despite ample opportunity, it had been six months since he’d last woken up with a woman in his bed. Six months since he’d followed through on the urge.

What was his problem?

As he contemplated the question, a female who looked barely old enough to vote plowed into him, her eyes fixed on her phone as one of her black-booted heels landed on his toes. Gripping her arms, Blake stared down at the long, honeycolored hair, the Beatles T-shirt and the enticing cutoffs—not short enough to reveal the underwear beneath, but coming pretty damn close. His internal debate made a lateral move from his sex life to whether there was lace or a thong beneath the shorts. And combined with the sight of sexy leather cowboy boots…

Man, he seriously needed to get a grip.

His feminine assailant slipped her phone into her pocket and removed her foot from his. “Sorry, Suit,” she drawled, and Blake set her back, his eyebrows pulling together in amusement at the nickname. “I’m running late,” she went on, “but that’s no excuse for body-slamming you.”

“You should watch where you’re going,” he said lightly. He nodded down at the fantasy-inducing footwear. “With boots like those, someone might get hurt.”

“Cheer up. Maybe you can successfully sue me for a hit-and-run.”

The infectious sparkle in her hazel eyes was more humor than seduction.

“Except you haven’t run,” he said, attempting to maintain a serious expression, knowing he was failing. “And technically, if you left me your name, I’d have no case.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” She stuck out her hand, and Blake took it automatically, noting the soft skin and the small tattoo on the inside of her wrist. “Jacqueline Lee,” she said. “And just in case you were considering asking me out—” she released his hand “—everyone calls me Jax.”

Blake realized his previous words had been misconstrued as a come-on, and his forehead bunched in skeptical humor. “I don’t date jailbait.”

“I’m twenty-three and of sound mind and body,” she said. He didn’t know her well enough to verify the state of her mind, but it was obvious her body was most definitely sound. She tilted her head. “Does that help?”

He lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “It would, except I never date a woman who goes by a man’s name.”

Her wide smile at his fictitious—and ridiculous—dating guideline was alluring. “That’s an awful lot of rules you got there,” she said. She turned to go and then paused, shooting him a mischievous look over her shoulder. “Give me a call when you want to break one.”

An amused scoff of doubt escaped as he watched her head out onto the courthouse lawn. When was the last time he’d engaged in a harmless flirtation? Too long, apparently. It was definitely time for him to start dating again if he was noticing a little hellion on heels. Hardly the kind of woman he needed in his life.

An old VW Beetle parked in front of the courthouse began to blast a song loud enough to fill the bustling courthouse lawn. And one minute his sexy assailant was crossing the grassy grounds, the next she was stepping out into a dance routine. Stunned, Blake struggled to make sense of her actions until, one by one, she was joined by adolescents in a clearly choreographed routine. Soon, more than a dozen youth were engaged in a dance number good enough to be aired on a professional music video.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, a flash mob,” Sara said as she came to a stop beside him. Her voice was loaded with disapproval. “Don’t kids these days have anything better to do?”

Blake stared at the group and, in particular, their leader, passion oozing from her every movement. Her earlier playful tone couldn’t be taken seriously, but the earnest enthusiasm on her face now was mesmerizing.

“They’re just having fun, Sara,” he said with a distracted tone.

There was a time when he used to live to have fun, having entirely too much of it along the way. But just because he’d crashed headfirst into reality when his father had died, leaving the responsibility for his madcap family on Blake’s shoulders, that didn’t mean the rest of the world needed one of life’s hardest lessons at the age of twenty.

“No harm in that,” he went on.

There was harm, however, in the way he was appreciating the fluid movements of the hazel-eyed girl/woman. She twisted, twirled and moved to the Latino hip-hop song—an odd choice given her cowboy boots—with a supple grace that was capable of contorting her body into almost impossible positions. Her dancing fired his imagination, turning his blood to molten metal.

“No harm? Tell that to the police. They don’t look amused at all,” Sara said. “They look ready to make an arrest.”

With effort, Blake shifted his gaze to the two unsmiling cops rapidly approaching the dance group, his mind filling with an interesting image of his hit-and-run perpetrator in handcuffs. And not in a professional capacity.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Blake gazed at the aforementioned policemen as one of them stopped to address the dancers engaged in the routine—a routine that currently involved undulating on the grass in an impressive dance move—while the other cop made a beeline for the beat-up VW Beetle blaring the music. And, for the first time, Blake noticed the leg encased in a long cast sticking out from the passenger seat of the offending car.

A weary groan of frustration escaped his lips, and his entertainment in the scene came to a screeching halt.

There was no doubt in his mind who the leg belonged to, because it was highly unlikely there could be two casts in Miami emblazoned with a red dragon from hip to toes. A cast tattoo, his sister had called it.

Hand on the VW’s hood, the police officer hunched over to speak with the hidden occupant, the cast engulfing the leg like a plaster anchor. One that Blake had thought would keep Nikki from landing in hot water—like getting thrown in jail. At least until he’d wrapped up his current case.

And there was nothing Blake hated more than being wrong.

Six hours later

“I came to arrange your release from jail as a favor to my sister, Ms. Lee,” Blake Bennington said, and Jax winced, saying a prayer of thanks, again, that she’d been the only one arrested today. The black interior of the limo and the lawyer’s dark good looks were a sharp contrast to his cool gray eyes as he went on. “Arguing the merits of the Miami Police Department with you wasn’t part of the deal.”

Beside him, Jax squirmed against the plush leather seat. Calling her new friend, Nikki Bennington, for advice had seemed logical. When the law student had shared that her brother was less than amused by today’s escapades, Jax couldn’t have cared less about some unknown stuffed shirt. Until she’d learned that Nikki’s deal with her brother meant he’d informed his chauffer to bypass a charity event and head for the jail to help. Before Blake Bennington had arrived, Jax had vowed to honor the generous gesture by holding her tongue to keep the peace.

A peace that had been most profoundly disturbed.

The hairs on her arms still stood on end from the initial electrifying sight of her hit-and-run victim materializing to offer assistance. After hours in custody, she should have been too spent to feel anything. But it wasn’t every day a girl was rescued from behind bars by a tuxedo-clad man more gorgeous than James Bond…leaving her body both shaken and stirred.

“I wasn’t arguing the police department’s merits,” she said, trying again for a conciliatory tone, which was pathetic at best. “I was just…” She forced herself to meet his gaze, the now familiar imposing form creating a jolting sizzle.

The attraction was horribly inconvenient, especially with the disapproving vibes he exuded. Keeping her opinions to herself wasn’t her usual style, and much, much harder than she’d originally thought.

She hiked her chin, aiming to bring a diplomatic end to their debate. “I was just questioning their priorities.”

Blake tipped his head. “And I’m sure the police would love to accommodate you and your priorities,” he said smoothly, clearly not meaning the words. “But they have a job to do and are bound by the letter of the law. So for future reference—” a single brow lifted, a perfect match to his wry tone “—disturbing the peace, no matter how innocently it’s done, is illegal.”

Jax bit her tongue at his tone, reminding herself to think of Nikki. Think of Nikki. During their previous run-in, Blake had appeared approachable, almost relaxed, but the moment he’d shown up to arrange her release, his intense lawyerly attitude had shown up, as well. Yet through it all the man had remained so cool. So calm. And now he was so right, damn him.

One more statement pleading her point of view and then she’d happily remain silent. “I didn’t plan this event with the intention of breaking the law.”

As if preparing for an interesting story, Blake leaned back, his posture one of a man in control. One arm thrown along the seat behind her. One leg crossed over the other. And two eyes focused on her as if daring her to impress him with her explanation.

“Then what was your intention?” he said.

“I work as a music therapist at South Glade Teen Center, an after-school club for kids. The county pulled their funding…”

Her heart rate jumped, fear squeezing her chest. The club provided a safe place for the kids to be themselves. To belong. Without the facility, her high school years would have been unbearable. Shifting from foster family to foster family, South Glade had been the only constant, the one place she’d truly felt at home. Losing it now wasn’t an option.

Seeking calm, she rubbed the small tattoo that partially disguised the two well-healed scars on her wrist. Warrior wounds, she liked to call them. Symbols of her past. They reminded her of who she was.

And how far she’d come.

She straightened her shoulders and pushed the panic aside. “So I wanted to gain a little positive publicity for our cause.”

“By getting arrested?”

Was he mocking her?

She inhaled a soothing breath, straining for patience. “That’s how Nikki got involved. A mutual friend asked her for tips on how to proceed legally.”

And you should have followed Nikki’s advice more closely, Jax.

Blake appeared unimpressed with her explanation. “Well, according to the police report, the music blaring from your VW Beetle was loud enough to disturb the peace.”

Inwardly, she winced, hating her defensive tone. “I told Nikki it’s kinda hard to keep the beat to music you can’t hear.”

He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Not to mention the dance move that landed you on the sidewalk where you—” he leaned forward to the seat across from them and retrieved the report, scanning the page “—and I quote…‘failed to comply with a lawful order to cease from obstructing a public sidewalk.’ End quote.”

His gaze landed on hers again, and heat crept up her face, but she refused to let him see her blush. So Jax concentrated very hard on brushing away the grains of sand clinging to her denim cutoffs, remnants of her time spent on the ground.

“I couldn’t hear the police officer’s order to move because of the music,” she mumbled.

“Precisely,” he said evenly.

She shot him a look she hoped was veiled by her lashes, her voice growing stronger. “And I didn’t intend to land on the sidewalk. I just overshot my mark doing the Worm.”

He raised a brow higher. “I assume you’re referring to the dance step that involved you undulating along the ground on your belly.”

He set the report on the seat between them and went still, as if he couldn’t wait for her to explain further. Somehow she didn’t think further details would help.

“The maneuver isn’t easy to do,” she said.

“It certainly looked painful.”

She ignored him and went on. “And I unintentionally positioned myself in the wrong spot. I didn’t know that I was getting too close to the walkway.”

“In retrospect, a fatal error in judgment,” he said drily.

The sarcasm was really getting on her nerves.

“There was no time to practice,” she said. “We needed to react quickly to the budget cuts. While the news was fresh in the public’s mind.”

He settled a little deeper into the seat. “And you thought taking the teens you were responsible for out on a flash mob and risking arrest was a good expression of your dissatisfaction?”

Jeez, putting it like that made her feel like a crazy lady. “I told you, I was trying to keep it legal.”

Above the pristine tux and the tanned, flawless complexion of his face, the two dark slashes of eyebrows were perfectly schooled into a noncommittal expression. And despite the sophisticated polish and the undertones of skepticism, she suddenly got the impression that Blake Bennington was as amused as he was disapproving of her actions.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Deep down, you find this whole thing funny, don’t you?”

“Just the part where your carefully planned flash mob was ruined by a dance move.” His lips twitched, as if suppressing a grin. “Perhaps next time you’ll plan your routine more carefully.”

The hint of restrained humor was annoying, and she said, “And perhaps Officer Brown will learn to lighten up a little?”

His eyebrows shot higher as the gray eyes grew dark, holding her in their power as he leaned closer. She’d obviously stepped on a nerve.

“I can assure you, Ms. Lee. When it comes to people who break the law—” his voice was deadly soft, and his proximity brought her attraction back in full force “—both Officer Brown and I take our jobs very seriously.”

Trapped by the force of his gaze, Jax’s heart rapped harder beneath her ribs. Getting beyond the thickly fringed, hypnotizing eyes was difficult, but she finally allowed her gaze to skim down the angular planes of his face, landing on his mouth.

Oh, great…he had lips just the way she liked them. Full. Sensual. The kind that could kiss a girl senseless and make her forget she’d sworn off men forever. Or at least until she found one who didn’t think she was certifiable.

And Superman here, with the eyes of steel, clearly wasn’t the type.

As their staring contest continued, another heated flush slowly crept up her face, but she refused to feel ashamed. Because regret would keep her tethered to the past, unable to move on.

Relying on an innocent expression to tone down her statement, she said, “Are you lecturing me?” She lightly scrunched up her face, as if she didn’t already know the answer. “Because this is beginning to feel a lot like a lecture.”

Amazingly, his lips twitched. “Not at all. But since you now have several charges filed against you requiring your attention, you should learn to follow advice.”

Advice? Pressing her lips together, Jax turned her gaze to the window, drumming her fingers against the leather seat. Advice seemed a tame description for 007’s fetish for control. Not to mention those disturbing shoulders that were so broad you’d need a map to kiss your way from one side to the other…

Shoulders currently encased in a tuxedo—a blatant reminder of how he’d sacrificed his plans to help her out, and here she was taking issue with his every word. She curled her hand into a fist.

Oh, perfect—guilt. Just what she didn’t need.

She let out a sigh. “Look, I know you had plans.” She took in the strong, stubble-free jaw and the crisp, horizontal precision of his black bow tie. “And I’m sorry I ruined your evening.”

The look he gave her revealed little. “That’s debatable.”

“Debatable I’m sorry or that I ruined your evening?”

His forehead crinkled in suppressed humor. “I can’t attest to your capacity for remorse. But rest assured…” He paused before going on, the lines fading from his brow. “It was a dinner function I was happy to miss.”

“Then why were you going?”

His tone grew vague, as if briefly stumped by the question. “Responsibilities, Ms. Lee.”

Curious, Jax paused. The air conditioner kicked on, and cold air hit. Her tank top and cutoffs, perfect for a flash dance mob under the Florida sun, now left her feeling exposed. And next to the sinfully sexy lawyer and his limousine of luxury, she felt positively scruffy. Tugging on her frayed hem, she tried to cover more skin. It was hopeless, so Jax resorted to rubbing her arms to overcome the chill.

Blake glanced at her and then flipped the AC switch, cutting off the blast of air. “Next time you plan on risking arrest, maybe you should choose a more suitable outfit.”

She suppressed a groan. “Can we just agree it wasn’t my finest moment and leave it at that?”

“Since I’ve just met you, I’ll have to take you at your word.” His gaze drifted down to her chest, and the everpresent tension expanded to a level that made the air crackle like the night sky over Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Heat filled her gut as her heart thumped loudly in response, and she prayed her body wouldn’t betray her attraction.

He lifted his hand to point at her tank top. “And you still have some mud from that less-than-fine moment stuck to Paul McCartney’s face.”

Startled, Jax glanced down. A light brown streak was smeared across her tank top emblazoned with the Fab Four. Paul’s forehead covered her left breast and was smudged in a golden-brown color. Humiliation flared as she repeatedly swiped at the spot with trembling fingers, her bracelets tinkling. She knew Blake was watching her, and the tight knot of desire grew. Until her breasts gave her up, the tips pebbling.

“I’m afraid you’re only making it worse,” he said, his rumbling voice tinged with an unidentifiable emotion.

She gritted her teeth, and her bracelets continued their musical sound as she rubbed harder. Please, God, let him be referring to the smudge she’d smeared bigger with her efforts.

Blake leaned forward to shed his coat, his white shirt pulling tight against a wall of muscle that short-circuited her brain. Which was the only reason she dumbly let him slip the jacket around her shoulders.

It was warm. Heavy. With a seductive scent of a fresh sea breeze. Enveloping her like an embrace…

Oh, heck, no. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said with a tight smile, and lifted her hand to remove the jacket.

His fingers encircled her wrist, stopping her movements, and the skin-on-skin contact sent a wave of heat up her cheeks.

“Quit being stubborn.” His usual gray gaze had gone slate, his voice low. “You’re cold, so leave it.”

Flickers of electrical energy continued to skitter out in concentric circles from his touch, until Blake released her wrist to unbutton his cuffs and push up his sleeves. As if he wouldn’t allow further debate.

Brother of her new friend or not, his attitude was hard to take.

“Look,” she said as patiently as she could, “I know I’m not the kind of woman you typically associate with, but—”

“You haven’t known me long enough to determine the kind of women I associate with,” he said without looking at her.

Jax let out a quiet grunt. “Time enough to know all I need,” she muttered.

He lifted his gaze to hers. “That’s highly unlikely.”

Every muscle in her body tensed. There it was again. The same überconfident, master-of-all-he-surveyed look. And right then and there she realized that even attempting to keep the peace was no longer an option.

She folded her arms tight across her chest. “Shall I tell you what I think?”

Leaning back, he studied her carefully. “You appear committed to sharing your every thought,” he said, his voice now laced with amusement. “Why stop now?”

His tone pricked a nerve. Without a doubt, it was time she provided him and that God complex of his with a much-needed reality check. Anticipation soaring, Jax twisted in her seat to face him.

“You choose your clothes to impress.” She paused, remembering the restrained impatience as he’d shoved up his sleeves. “Not necessarily because you like them, but as a symbol of your success. To convince the masses you’re good at—” She crinkled her brow. “What exactly do you do?”

“I’m an assistant U.S. attorney.”

“Impressive.” She avoided the cool eyes watching her expectantly. “You wear your hair conservatively short, but leave it longer on top to avoid looking too militant.” Her fingers itched to dig into thick waves and muss them up, just to see what he’d do. “What are you? Thirty? Thirty-one?”

“Thirty-two.”

So nine years, numerous tax brackets and an alternate reality separated them.

She briefly inspected the deliciously bared forearms lined with muscle and sinew, irritated that his lethal sensuality was so utterly intoxicating. She avoided the tall, dark and disturbingly intense type, but this man had the heat rising in her body like hot oil in a lava lamp.

And the reemergence of a sense of humor made him vastly more appealing.

“I’d bet big money those muscles are courtesy of your home gym equipment and not from a love of sports.” From the look on his face, she knew she was right. “You keep in shape as part of your image. The self-discipline thing and all that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, her bracelets tinkling again.

“An art you obviously don’t subscribe to,” he said, his level gaze not budging.

“In relationships you prefer women like yourself.” Biting back a smile, she went on, ignoring his dig. “Rules number one and two state they must be sensible and practical.”

“Wrong.” He leaned closer, bringing the gray eyes into sharper focus, and the breath stalled in her throat as her head spun from his towering proximity. “Those are numbers two and three,” he murmured. “Law-abiding is rule number one.”

Pinned in place by his look, the need to move grew unbearable. She crossed her legs and wiggled her dangling foot in agitation.

At five feet six, she’d never be considered outrageously tall. But he was six foot three, at the very least. And despite the easy tone and his almost-teasing words, there was nothing soft about him. He was all dark edginess, like a tightly coiled spring.

He’s too much for you, Jax. Just keep your fat mouth shut.

But she knew she wouldn’t. According to her friends, she lived with her heart on her sleeve. According to every foster family she’d ever been placed with, she simply lived with her foot in her smart-ass mouth. Realistically Jax knew the truth dwelled somewhere in between.

But the need to provoke him was too great.

Her leg stilled, and she adopted a wide-eyed, innocent air. “I still haven’t addressed the most critical issue. The age-old question—boxers or briefs?”

“I wouldn’t classify that as an age-old question,” he said, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, the first show of frank amusement.

Blinking hard, Jax stared at him. She’d thought it had been a fluke, but her first impression had been spot-on. He was extra hot when humored.

Fascinated, she continued. “Sure it is. Ranks right up there with the chicken-versus-egg question.” She noticed a small scar that disappeared under a dark slash of eyebrow, daring to mar all that perfection. “And the argument over which is more influential, nature or nurture.”

Intense interest flared in his face. “I wasn’t aware men’s underwear was as hotly contested as genes versus environment in forming personality.”

“In certain circles it is,” she said.

A droll skepticism crossed his face. “None that I frequent.”

“That’s not saying much. And as far as DNA and environment are concerned…” Jax’s face softened with the faded memories of her grandmother belting out the latest countrywestern song. “I’ve always believed we’re a unique combination of the two.”

Pursing his lips, his voice turned thoughtful. “I’ve always hoped we could overcome them both.”

Intriguing response. Very intriguing.

Troubled by the notion, she studied his scar, wondering about its origin. “Is that why you wear a suit? To overcome your DNA?”

The twinkle in his eyes grew brighter. “A better question would be, is psychoanalysis via underwear a required course as a music therapist?”

Amused, Jax swept a stray hair from her cheek. “No. But every choice you make reveals a little of your character. Today proves I lead with my heart.” She studied his endless legs, encased in what had to be custom-fit trousers, giving a decisive nod before going on. “You’re definitely a briefs man. You like everything neatly—” she lifted her gaze to his for effect “—contained.”

A quick flash of a devilish grin morphed from outrageously handsome to downright devastating, and the euphoric high it produced only made her miss the smile more when it was gone. Disturbed by the thought, she sent him a pointed look, and her voice lost the teasing tone. “Including your emotions.”

His scar shifted in surprise at her blunt statement, and she was almost ashamed she felt so smug about bringing the man down a notch.

Apparently, he didn’t agree.

“I think I’ll let the insinuation my emotions are contained in my underwear pass without comment,” he finally said. His faint smile was concerning. “Especially since my deal with my sister includes further contact with you.”

Confused, and more than a little alarmed, Jax frowned. “How does your deal with Nikki include further contact between us?”

“She didn’t tell you the details?” His tone implied he wasn’t at all surprised his sister had been less than forthcoming. “In exchange for helping you, she promised me she’d finally let me hire someone to move in with us and help her with her daily activities until she’s out of her cast.”

“And how does that affect me?”

He settled back and shot her a master-of-all-he-surveyed smile. “Because the live-in caretaker is going to be you.”




CHAPTER TWO


BLAKE WATCHED JAX go completely still before the refusal burst from her lips.

“No.” Clearly stunned, Jax froze for a few more seconds filled with silence before she continued, “Wait, let me put that another way,” she said leaning closer, bringing the smell of lemon shampoo and damp earth. “Hell, no.”

Fighting back a smile, Blake said, “That was eloquent.”

“That was clearer.”

“Why the emphatic refusal? Nikki told me the cut in funding has forced the club to shut down several programs, including yours. So obviously you’re in need of a job.”

“No, I’m in need of a plan to get the programs up and running again.” A furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “And no offense, Suit,” she said smoothly, but Blake got the sense she did mean to offend, “but I’m not in bad enough straits to accept a job that requires me to live in your home.”

The words lingered in the air between them as Blake held her gaze. Awareness seeped into the limo and saturated every molecule of air, making each breath suddenly feel heavy. And then Jax turned to face forward, effectively putting an end to the moment.

Part of him echoed her reluctance. But so far Nikki had fired the three people he’d hired to help. And she’d refused the limo service he occasionally used. Blake had nearly burst a fuse when he’d discovered his sister had driven herself to the flash mob in a cast.

A long leg cast.

Which was as reckless as the careless stunt that had broken her leg in the first place. It was amazing she hadn’t gotten herself killed today. And if he didn’t get Nikki to accept help from somebody, she’d wind up dead in a car accident, just like his father.

For a flickering moment, the memories flooded him and his chest grew tight, making breathing difficult.

Blake rubbed his forehead, easing the tension as he concentrated on the view out the tinted window. Palm trees paraded past like guards along the median. Cars eased forward in sporadic burps as the city reached the peak of the Friday rush hour. His sister was going to drive him stark, raving mad. The past few years had been tough, the two of them clashing more and more. Now he suspected she was doing things solely with the intent to tick him off.

And how could he concentrate on the biggest case of his career if he was living on pins and needles, dreading her next stunt? He needed someone to help Nikki, and the only one she’d agreed on was the hellion on heels.

He glanced at said hellion. Unfortunately, his fleeting impression at the courthouse had been dead-on. Jax Lee was trouble of monumental proportions. Impulsive. Headstrong. With a mouth to match.

Worse…everything about her made him hot.

Honey-colored hair, wild and unrestrained, hung in waves down her back, while the small tattoo on the inside of her right wrist enhanced her unruly air. And, as if that weren’t disturbing enough, her long legs were bare beneath the cutoffs. Her black cowboy boots were decorated with a line of red thread that twined around the ankles and climbed higher, as if wanting to hold more of her close; he knew the feeling.

Curbing his reaction had been doable until he’d discovered the sound body had indeed come with a sound mind, the sharp wit and keen intellect triggering a need the likes of which he could no longer ignore. Unfortunately, intellect did not equal common sense. Or sanity. Her amusing mouth was sassier than all his past girlfriends’ combined, but her reckless nature made her a risk.

A risk he had no choice but to take.

Pushing the doubts aside, Blake settled back and focused on the oddly enticing sight of her lightly jiggling foot. Obviously, the lady was incapable of holding still.

Or keeping her opinions to herself.

“What will it take to change your mind?” he said. “Money?”

She rolled her eyes, as if to say his attempt was lame.

“Whatever your weekly salary is, I’ll triple it,” he said.

“No thanks,” she said smoothly. “I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“Nikki refuses a hired aid. And the only other family I have is my mother, but she was the one who encouraged Nikki to drive herself to the courthouse today.” At Jax’s curious look, he felt obligated to attempt to explain Abigail Bennington, an impossible feat. “My mother doesn’t believe in setting limits.”

A fact that had been okay when his father had still been alive. After his death, Blake had been the one left to pick up the slack, striving to see that a then twelve-year-old headstrong Nikki made it to adulthood in one piece. No easy task.

He tipped his head. “As a matter of fact, you and my mother would get along great. She believes everyone should lead with their heart, too.”

The smile she sent was laced with a touch of reproach. “Smart lady.”

“Yes. But my mother also believes in love potions, tarot cards and the validity of the psychic hotline,” Blake said drily. “So take that for what it’s worth.”

Her smile grew bigger. “Your mother sounds wonderful.”

Abigail Bennington was frustrating. Exasperating. And notoriously unreliable. As much as he cared about her, dealing with his mom wasn’t always easy. Luckily, she was also very lovable in her own wacky way.

Wacky, just like the beautiful woman with the tiny tattoo. Her wrist rested on her lap, and he discreetly tried to make out the picture. But he only managed to get an eyeful of a bare, tanned and very toned thigh.

A few more moments passed filled with awareness, and he forced his eyes back to her face. “Look,” he said reasonably, “Nikki needs company, and I’m currently involved in a case that’s requiring a lot of my time. And my mother has a social calendar that would put the First Lady to shame.” He blew out a breath. “Most of Nikki’s old high school pals have moved away. And the few that still live here have jobs. Honestly,” Blake went on thoughtfully, “I think she’s missing her friends.”

Jax’s foot stopped its incessant wiggling, and she crossed her arms, a small frown stealing across her face as she nibbled on her lower lip. Obviously she was rethinking her refusal, more moved by compassion than money. Information he fully intended to take advantage of.

“Nikki had been looking forward to her summer break for months,” he said, pressing on. He’d had years of practice reading juries, and Jax’s sympathy was easy to see. He almost had her. “Now she’s stuck at home. What she needs is someone closer to her age for company.” Truthfully, he thought his sister needed a keeper, but he kept that tidbit to himself. “So she won’t feel so…alone.”

Jax heaved out a sigh, turning to face him. “Okay, I’ll do it.” Blake’s blood surged in triumph. “But I have one condition,” she said.

“Which is?”

“I want you to handle my legal problem.”

The triumphant feeling collapsed. “I’m a federal prosecutor, not a defense attorney.”

“I can’t afford to hire a lawyer, even with the tripled salary.”

Blake frowned. “So you’ll be assigned a public defender. Most of them are excellent. And more than capable of handling your case.”

“Sorry, Suit,” she said, her gaze suddenly serious. “I entered the foster system when I was ten years old, which means I’ve dealt with a lot of social workers through the years. I learned to spot a bad one a mile away.” The tidbit about her past was disturbing. But there was no self-pity in her eyes, just a level of acceptance that was impressive, and Blake fought the surge of sympathy. “Suffice it to say,” she went on, “I’ve had enough experience with government employees to be a little leery of the devoted public servant. Yes, I might get lucky and be assigned an excellent attorney.” She shot him a look that dared him to disagree. “But I also know how bad it will be if I’m appointed one that isn’t.”

Her hazel eyes exhibited a wariness and knowledge beyond her years, a hard-earned wisdom bubbling just beneath surface. Too bad she didn’t apply that wisdom on a regular basis. Blake shifted in his seat, wishing he could offer her words of assurance. But he had more than enough experience to know that a poorly executed defense could have lifelong consequences.

And clearly Jacqueline Lee knew it, too.

“Consider it an exchange of favors,” she said with a stubborn lift of her chin. And he supposed somewhere in that zany world she inhabited the logic made sense. “If you want me to help you with Nikki, those are my terms.”

With his current schedule, their arrangement would mean burning the midnight oil. But he wouldn’t be getting any work done if he was worried that Nikki would hobble to her car and drive across town again, just to obtain a second cast tattoo.

Blake wearily rubbed a hand down his face and then shot Jax a hard look. “You’ll have to follow my directions to the letter.”

“I can do that.”

“Which means no arguing over my every instruction.”

Her attempt to feign ignorance was comical. “I’m very capable of holding my tongue.”

All evidence to date suggested otherwise.

He paused for effect and then raised a doubtful eyebrow. “I guess we’ll find out,” he murmured.

Her gaze didn’t budge, and the challenge in her voice was another gut-clenching jolt to his libido. “I guess we will.”

The next morning Jax left Nikki relaxing by her brother’s sparkling pool, tablet computer in hand, and made her way up the bougainvillea-lined walk leading to the main house. Since Jax’s quarters were located in a separate guest cottage beyond the pool, avoiding the owner so far had been easy. The rest of the day would likely be a different story.

For the bazillionth time since she’d said yes, Jax questioned her decision to accept the temporary job. In the end, it hadn’t been because she needed the money desperately, which was true, or that the flexibility of the work would afford her time to pursue funding for the club, which was also accurate. Ultimately, the mention of Nikki’s loneliness had won her over.

Jax had spent years living in homes surrounded by people, yet feeling all alone.

But for the first time, alone was sounding almost attractive. Putting up with Blake’s disturbing presence in the limo had been bad enough, but now she was staying on his property. As his employee. And the thought of being reduced to a subordinate to the strictly by-the-book man was less than thrilling. Eight years spent at the mercy of the foster-care system had instilled in her an inherent dislike of being under an authoritative thumb. Either way, as frustrating as he was, she knew he was an excellent lawyer. Brilliant was the word Nikki had used. Which would have made the exchange of favors perfect…except for that damn coolly amused attitude of his yesterday.

An attitude that had only gotten worse.

Because last night, when the limo had arrived in front of the courthouse to drop her off, her car had been missing. After a brief moment of panic on her part, Blake had phoned the police station with her license plate…and learned her VW Beetle had been towed and impounded for a parking violation.

Which meant that the day that had started out good before turning bad had officially landed on the ugly.

She’d wound up having to endure Blake’s patient yet imposing form in her apartment while she packed for his house—the light in his eyes clearly communicating he was even more amused since she’d added a parking violation to her list of crimes. It was stupid, she knew, to care that the man thought she was a complete flake.

Unfortunately, now she needed to remind him of that very fact by asking him for a ride to the impound lot to retrieve her car.

Jax bit back the groan as dread and an annoying sliver of anticipation wormed its way into her limbs, and she rubbed a damp palm down her jeans as she passed through the French doors and into the foyer. She paused, wondering where to look for Blake, feeling underdressed in her well-worn jeans.

His modern, U-shaped house was framed in wood and stone and gorgeously situated in an exclusive island neighborhood in South Miami Beach. Jax headed into the huge living room, where dark Brazilian wood floors added warmth. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows afforded an unobstructed view of the Biscayne Bay to the north, and to the south, the pool nestled between the U.

All in all, a soothing scene…until she spied Blake at the far end of the room.

Jax’s heart picked up speed even as her stride grew slower as she considered leaving before being detected. After yesterday’s trail of humiliating moments, she longed to rejoin Nikki at the pool and forget about her car. Unfortunately, the sound of her squeaking tennis shoes announced her arrival, and Blake turned before she could decide whether to pay now or pay later.

Her heart shifted from First to Third as he approached, long legs crossing the vast room with a purpose.

Clean-shaven and impeccably dressed, Blake looked almost as formal as the day before. The tux had been replaced with charcoal-colored pants and a white dress shirt, and his thick, ink-black hair was damp at the edges, probably from a shower.

Didn’t he know it was Saturday? And why couldn’t she convince her libido that he was so not her type that she couldn’t even begin to count the ways? The oodles of dollars in his bank account didn’t come close to making her list of concerns, but she was dying to know where his fortune came from.

“Please don’t tell me you’re accepting bribes from the Mafia,” she said.

His pace slowed as he approached, puzzlement briefly hijacking his cool demeanor. “I’m sorry?”

Not near as sorry as she was when he stopped in front of her and she was hit with his now familiar cologne. Tamping down the wave of heat, she shifted her gaze from his broad shoulders, emphasized by the cut of his shirt, to his striking face.

Her body might never get used to the masculine beauty.

“No matter how far up the chain he is, there is no way a government attorney could afford a house like this,” she said with a wry hike of her brow. “Unless, of course, he’s on the take.”

His cool expression morphed to one of interest, and the gray eyes crinkled at the edges in humor. “I promise, I’m not accepting bribes. And trust me,” he said, his voice achieving the perfect droll note, “no one enters a life of public law for the salary. I’m fortunate enough that the paycheck isn’t a concern.” He held her gaze a moment before turning his attention to the view, his face briefly growing hard. “I inherited my money.”

Inherited. Which meant someone—family—had to die for him to acquire all this wealth. And judging by the look on his face it was a subject she should stay far, far away from. Because something in his expression told her if she pursued that line of questioning, he’d cut her off at the knees.

A perplexing and exasperating tenderness welled inside her. The man who had the world at his feet had a vulnerable spot, too. And, minus the inheritance part, one she could relate to, no less.

Toes tapping nervously, she struggled to lighten the mood again before she asked for a ride, ignoring her clamoring nerves. “Well, I guess I have to change my first impression of you as the James Bond type.” He quirked his eyebrow skeptically, and she went on. “Must have been the tux.”

His forehead bunched in amusement. “Must have been.”

“But the ultrarich guy fighting for justice is more Batman than James Bond,” she said, struggling to mirror his coolly amused demeanor.

A quick flash of a sexy half grin graced his face, and Jax’s breath caught, her world tipping sideways.

“Except Batman was a vigilante operating outside of the law.” Clearly playing along, he crossed his arms, his dress shirt stretching across broad shoulders. “And for the record, I prefer the tux to tights.”

The planted image did nothing to right her still-spinning world as she pictured his muscular legs encased in formfitting fabric. And the thought of a man in tights should not be turning her on.

“Interesting visual,” she murmured, her tone holding an embarrassingly husky quality.

Their eyes locked.

Time stretched.

And Jax struggled to shore up her body’s defenses against the attraction she’d just let slip. She could tell by the wary look in Blake’s eyes.

Big mistake, Jax. Big mistake.

Right now climbing into a car and riding across town with the man hardly seemed like a good idea. But without her vehicle, she was stuck in his house with no means of escape, even for a brief reprieve.

She swallowed hard and bit the proverbial bullet. “I was hoping you could give me a ride to the impound parking lot.”

He pressed his lips together, either biting back a smile or suppressing a groan of irritation. Jax wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“I’m free this afternoon,” he said, and she sighed, relieved that the car ride would be delayed. “I have some work to finish this morning. But first we need to discuss the terms of our employment agreement,” he added.

Her heart slipped to her belly.

Damn. And escape had been so near at hand.

When he headed toward the door, she sighed and followed him into the hallway, praying his office was as big as the living room. Because, as she’d learned in the limo, being confined in a small space with the lethally sexy Blake Bennington was an assault on her senses she was ill-equipped to deal with. All she wanted was to survive the contract negotiations without adding to her growing list of embarrassing moments.

But given her interactions with the exasperating hottie to date, she wasn’t holding out much hope.

Blake leaned back in his leather chair, elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled just beneath his chin. Fortunately, his monstrous desk separated him from Jax as she paced back and forth, reading through the contracts.

Sporting threadbare jeans and a Madonna T-shirt—did the woman own anything that didn’t have a face plastered on it?—she looked fresh and surprisingly at ease in his office of hunter-green and dark leather furniture. Her unruly hair had been whipped into submission, a long braid extending down her back, streaks of gold intertwined with the honey tones. At first glance he’d thought the restrained hairstyle would help control his growing appreciation for her looks.

But he’d been wrong. Because the graceful neck along with her loose-limbed, lissome body conjured images of her dance routine gone awry. And the reminder of her hips swinging to the Latino hip-hop song was hardly conducive to controlling his appreciation. Not to mention the husky voice radiating from the capricious female earlier in the living room. The voice that had broadcast that she wanted him, too…

A slow burn took up residence in his gut, heating him from the inside out. Ignoring his own desire was a lot harder now that he was certain it was returned.

Jax finished reading and halted beside his desk, her clear skin kissed by the sun and radiating health. Hazel eyes assessed him doubtfully as she set the contracts in front of him.

“Is this really necessary?” she said.

“It’s a fairly standard employment contract.”

She leaned her hands on his desk, which had the unfortunate effect of placing her breasts closer to eye level. “Seems like an awful lot of words just to say I’m hired, explain a few rules and list my hourly rate,” she said doubtfully.

Studiously ignoring the view, Blake reached for the document. “No one should enter into employment without laying out the terms of their agreement.”

Maintaining his businesslike demeanor was difficult enough after spending ten minutes admiring her features. And he wasn’t above admitting a few fantasies had been entertained by the sight.

He cleared his throat, hoping to put an end to the torture by getting her to sign…and leave him in peace. “This protects your interests as well by covering the terms of the dissolution of your employment should the relationship not work out.”

Blake mentally flinched at the term relationship. But Jax didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy looking at him as if he’d just crawled out of an alien spacecraft.

She straightened up and crossed her arms, which obscured Madonna’s face and pushed Jax’s breasts higher. He shifted slightly in his seat, willing his groin not to respond.

“Do you ever get tired of being this careful?” she said with amazement. “I mean—wow.” Sweeping a stray lock of hair from her cheek, she eyed him closely. “I’ve never met anyone so cautious. Your muscles must be tired from all the overtime they put in being—” she clenched both her fists to emphasize her point “—tensed and poised for every possible catastrophe.” Hands relaxing, she dropped them to her sides, her hazel eyes boldly honest, her tone dry. “’Cuz this is only my second day of knowing you, and you’re already exhausting me.”

Trying to hide the grin, Blake wiped his hand across his chin and lower lip. She looked younger than her years, fresh and beautiful—with a youthful exuberance that was captivating. Exhaustion hardly seemed to be her problem. His libido, on the other hand…?

That was getting a vigorous workout.

Wishing she’d at least sit down so there was less of her to see and admire, he reached for the papers. “I’m not ‘tensed for every catastrophe,’ as you put it. I’m just being practical. Preparing an exit strategy ahead of time makes life easier for everyone,” he said smoothly.

“Don’t you ever just loosen up and let life happen?”

“No.” He slid the document forward, hoping she’d take the hint and finish the task at hand. “Because I might not like what life hands me.”

A barking scoff escaped from her mouth. “Since when did planning in advance guarantee to prevent tragedy?”

The innocently spoken statement knocked him hard, bringing the memories along, and he froze. The biggest tragedy in his life—his father’s death—had been precipitated by Blake’s carelessness…at a time when he’d been so sure he hadn’t a care in the world.

He’d been a thoughtless college frat kid that never gave a damn about the consequences of his actions.

His chest cinched tight and he locked the memories away, trying to subdue a frown. “I didn’t say planning guaranteed a tragedy-free life.” He lifted a brow meaningfully at the disturbingly beautiful woman standing before him. “But flying by the seat of your pants doesn’t help, either.”

They stared at each other a moment more, and he inched the document closer to her, using his best let’s-finish-this-up tone. “Do you want to have a lawyer review this for you?”

She shot him a look that suggested he was insane, and he realized he’d be hard-pressed to offer up a defense. “As of right now,” she said, “you’re the only lawyer I know.”

Tipping his head, he steadily held her gaze. “Unfortunately, my advice would be useless.” He gestured toward the agreements. “Conflict of interest and all.”

Jax parked a hip on the top of his desk. A flash of tanned, toned thigh peeked through the frayed hole in her jeans, briefly tripping up his train of thought and setting off a wail of warning in his head.

“I have an overwhelming urge to ask you to do just that,” she said as she looked down at him. “Something tells me if the contract wasn’t in my best interests…” her pursed lips twisted into a grin “…you’d rat yourself out.” Her grin grew bigger, hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’d love to see that.”

Blake’s internal siren grew louder. Her position, as well as the knowledge the attraction was mutual, made her all the more alluring.

“I can assure you, the contract is designed to protect us both,” he said as he leaned back in his seat, seeking distance.

She loosely shrugged her shoulders. “I believe you.”

“You should show a little more caution in the future.” His eyebrows crept higher. “Next time you might be dealing with someone who isn’t so trustworthy.”

“You exude trustworthiness. And at the risk of sounding like a lawyer basher, I doubt you learned that skill in law school. Are you a former Eagle Scout?”

“No.”

“Boy Scout?”

“No.”

“Come on, fess up.” Perched on the desk above him, she leaned closer, as if to share a secret, and shot him a teasing smile. Her sweetly spiced scent filled his nose, eliciting sensual visions, and his heart began to work harder at her proximity, even as he fought to maintain a calm expression. “In your youth you helped little old ladies cross the street, right?” she said.

Hardly. He’d spent his younger years with a rebellious streak a mile wide. And he’d fought long and hard to subdue the genetic tendencies his sister and mother wielded without a care. But his carefree days were long gone.

Blake calmly asked, “Are you going to sign the agreement or not?”

Delicately arched eyebrows pinched together in amusement. “I’m just here to help Nikki with her daily activities and drive her around. What could possibly go wrong?”

Lips twisting wryly at her words, his mind filled with the possibilities. But it was only one that consumed his mind. He could slip up, get lost in the sexual fog that enveloped him every time she was near.

His voice grew rough at the thought. “A great many things could go wrong.”

The worst of which would involve touching this woman.

As she held his gaze, the amused glint in her eyes slowly faded, replaced by something else, and tension billowed thick around them. He had the distinct impression she was finally considering just how…wrong, for lack of a better word, this living arrangement could become.

Or perhaps his traitorous libido had finally made itself known to the woman.

Frowning, she nibbled at a corner of her mouth, and Blake’s eyes were drawn to the process before moving on to her partially parted lips. Pink, soft and infinitely kissable lips. Which ultimately proved his downfall.

Because when her amused smile returned, he knew she’d caught him staring.

Fantasizing.

Her tone of voice and her words gave her away. “Would you feel more at ease if we inserted a no-kissing clause?”

Instantly, desire flared. Incinerating his thoughts. And every cell in his body demanded he pull her head down and take that too-sassy mouth with his. The seconds passed agonizingly slow, blood surging as the internal battle raged.

Lust versus reason.

Need versus duty.

Selfish college frat kid versus responsible adult.

Sweat prickled along his hairline as Blake mentally built a case against the insane craving to pull her onto his lap and give in to the fierce urge. Most notably, he needed a woman who fit with his life. One who was predictable. Rational. Jax was clearly neither of these. So why was he still contemplating kissing her?

Annoyed at himself, he removed a pen from the brass container on his desk, holding it out to Jax. “That won’t be necessary. Let’s just make sure everything goes smoothly.”

After a moment’s consideration, she took the pen and dropped her attention to the contract, scrawling her signature along the bottom with a carelessness that matched the woman herself. For a moment, he was distracted by the glimpse of the lacy pink bra beneath her shirt. The gentle cleavage. A view that was cut off when she pushed off his desk and stood, tossing the pen next to the contract.

“If that’s all,” she said, “I’m rejoining Nikki at the pool.”

Relieved, he gave a curt nod. “I’ll find you when I’m ready to drive you to your car.”

His gazed lingered on the agile swing of her long legs and the gentle sway of her hips as she exited, and he tightened his grip on his pen…doubting the sanity of hiring Jax. Which was confirmed when he caught a glimpse of their employment contract, where, right after he’d listed the job description and duties, Jax had added a single line: No kissing allowed.

With a groan, he leaned back in his chair, trying to decide if he should feel relieved he’d just solved his Nikki problem. Or alarmed he’d created an even bigger one with Jax.




CHAPTER THREE


EYES FIXED ON the middle-aged man inside the small, glassedin booth of the run-down parking lot, Jax carefully kept the panic from her tone as she leaned closer to the speaker in the window, acutely aware of Blake’s gaze on her.

“What do you mean I can’t retrieve my car until Monday? We still live in a democracy, don’t we? I have a right to retrieve my property, don’t I?” she said to the attendant, pointing at her old VW Beetle parked among all the other cars surrounded by a chain-link fence.

Jailed, just as she had been. And it wasn’t fair her car should pay the penalty for her mistakes.

“Cry me a river, lady.” Perched on his stool, the man swiped a hand through his thinning hair in irritation. “Next time don’t park your car in a two-hour parking spot and leave it there for six hours.”

“I got arrested,” she said, her face flooding with heat at her poorly worded defense. But there was no taking back the overshare now. “I couldn’t move my car.”

“It’s not my fault you got tossed in the slammer,” he said, and Jax forced her chin higher. “And I ain’t the one making the rules, either,” he went on. “I’m just paid to follow them.”

“What rule dictates that I have to go to the city municipal building first?”

“The one that applies to a previous unpaid parking ticket of yours. And the order states you can’t get your car until you pay that delinquent fine. And you can’t pay that fine until Monday morning at nine o’clock.”

Jax opened her mouth to protest, but Blake interrupted.

“Then Monday morning it is. Thanks for your help,” Blake said smoothly, taking her elbow.

His touch brought back the memory of being in his office, the overwhelming need to kiss him, and every muscle in Jax’s body tensed. Despite his cool demeanor, she knew he was dying to make a comment about her delinquent parking ticket. The one she’d stuffed into the bottom of her purse. And with all the turmoil at the club recently, it hadn’t been high on her priorities.

Just one more sin stacked up on her towering pile of crimes.

And her need to secure a bit of freedom from Blake was escalating by the minute. The purposefully bland expression. The glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Not to mention her growing obsession with those broad shoulders, the lean hips and those lips…

As he led her back to his car, she hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. “I need my vehicle.”

“You can use Nikki’s until Monday,” he said reasonably.

A frown threatened. “But right now we’re not far from South Glade Teen Center. I was planning on leaving here and swinging by to check in with everybody.”

“I’ll take you.”

Her heart tanked. Great. More time cooped up with Blake in his car. The ride over had been strained as they’d both diligently ignored her additional condition on the contract, an impulsive decision on her part. But she hadn’t been able to stop herself, because Blake had been looking at her as if he wanted to kiss her and was dismayed by the thought at the same time. Not exactly an ego booster. And the last time a man had looked at her like that—with the combination of desire and a doubting-her-sanity look—she’d vowed she wouldn’t put herself into that position again… .

Her stomach knotted as she remembered the expression on Jack’s face—the man she’d once hoped to build a permanent relationship with. Maybe even, God forbid, start a family.

Because who didn’t want a core group of people, or at least one other person, to whom you always belonged? Someone to lean on when the world turned cruel and unusual. Outside of the teen center, the concept of a permanent home had eluded her since she was ten years old. As a grown-up she’d finally been free to create one of her own. After a false start—her former boyfriend a massive disappointment, to say the least—she’d finally realized she didn’t need a man to achieve her goal.

The club had been all the family she needed.

She looked longingly at her beautiful, beat-up Beetle and let out a sigh. And she’d been so looking forward to escaping Blake’s presence in exchange for a visit to the center—her safe place since her adolescent days—giving her nervous system a much-needed holiday.

As they neared his sleek Lexus, Blake said, “I’m curious. Why do you need to go by the club?” He rounded to the driver’s side, looking at her over the hood. “To check in with the kids you’re supposed to be providing a good example to?”

She shot him a lethal look as she opened the passenger side and then dropped into the seat, pulling the door closed with a hard thunk.

Blake slipped into the driver’s seat. “And do tell,” he went on, closing his door and turning to face her, clearly struggling to maintain an impassive expression, “what other life lessons do you teach besides getting arrested, parking illegally and not paying your traffic fines?”

She refused to grind her teeth in annoyance. And it would be so much easier if he’d just go ahead and laugh at her with those sensual lips, so he could move on to more important things.

Like kissing her.

The sexual tension, the awareness, was a living, fire-breathing thing that was so much worse when enclosed in small spaces with the infuriating man. Especially now that she knew it was mutual.

Damn it.

“Trespassing?” Thickly fringed eyes on her, he went on lightly, listing the possibilities. “Shoplifting?” The knot of attraction and irritation in her gut twisted harder as he went on. “Or maybe—”

Desperate to end the sarcasm, she placed her fingers on that maddening, sensual mouth, halting his words. And everything went still.

Except for the need surging through her body…

Blood whooshed in her ears as his gray eyes, flecked with gold, remained fixed on hers. Her nerve endings vibrated from the sensation of firm lips, smooth, stubble-free skin and warm breath seeping between her fingers. There was no mistaking the heat in his gaze or the tension in his body, clearly a combination of lust and steel—the steel communicating just how much he was humoring her by not calling her out on her impertinent move. And what would he be like if the lust won and he released all that careful control?

As she held his mouth, the seconds ticked by with only the faint sound of their breathing, until she finally controlled her own emotions enough to keep herself from doing something rash.

Either throttling him or tasting that sexy mouth, she wasn’t sure which.

Her voice low, she forced herself to continue to meet his heated gaze. “You get one more comment, Suit. And then I’m cutting you off.” Two heartbeats passed, long enough for her to wonder if he was again contemplating kissing her, and then she said, “Well?” She dropped her hand and raised a prompting eyebrow, braced for his last verbal jab. Would it be angry? Amused? Or, God help her, sexual? “What’s the comment going to be?”

The pause was brief, but the intensity in his eyes scorched her insides, leaving the moment feeling longer than it was. “I think that with your lifestyle,” he said, his voice huskily amused, as if struggling between the dueling notions of humor and sex, “you should keep a full-time lawyer on retainer.”

Irritated by his words, Jax pressed her lips together and pivoted to face forward, crossing her arms to contain her thrumming heart in her chest. “Just turn on the car and drive.”

Blake parked on the street in front of the South Glade Teen Center and turned off his car, looking doubtfully at the old downtown warehouse that had been converted into a club for kids. Alarm bells were ringing in his head again, the same ones that had sounded earlier when Jax had touched him. But this alert was of a nonsexual kind and triggered by his environment.

To say that the club was located in a questionable part of town was being generous.

“It doesn’t look safe to park here,” he said.

“It isn’t,” Jax said with a careless tone as they exited the Lexus and headed for the front door. “But with your fancy security system, I doubt anyone will steal your car. Of course, that won’t keep some random kids from having fun.”

The alarm crept higher. “Fun?”

“You know, doing a little redecorating with spray paint or a set of keys,” she said. Frowning, he opened the door to let her into the building, and she shot him a saccharine-sweet grin as she passed by. “Maybe a tire iron or two.”

Her tone was unconcerned. But then again, it wasn’t her car. Or maybe the many dents in her old Beetle were from a tire iron, as well.

His lips twisted wryly. “Thanks for the warning,” he said, following her inside.

They headed deeper into the building, passing clusters of kids of various ages and ethnicities. Although they eyed Blake with suspicion, each group was clearly excited to see Jax, some of the preteens rushing to give her a hug. The older ones were too cool for outward displays of affection, but beneath their ribbing and sarcastic comments lay a fondness that was impossible to miss.

And with each acknowledgment, Jax grew more relaxed, her previous tension evaporating as she ruffled heads and dispensed smiles, heading for the stairwell on the far side of the gym. They passed a contentious game of basketball involving a dozen lanky male adolescents, and several called out in greeting to Jax, joking about her arrest. She waved in reply and returned each verbal jab with a quip of her own, obviously knowing each kid’s history, leaving the players laughing as she started up the narrow stairway to the second floor.

“I’ll just swing by the office and check my mail,” she said to Blake. “I also need to get my guitar from my locker.”

“A guitar?” He wasn’t particularly surprised by her choice of instrument, and he tried hard to ignore the delicious curve of her backside, the seductive sway of hips just several steps in front of him as their footsteps echoed in the small, shabby stairwell. “Do you take requests?”

She kept her back to him. “I doubt I know anything you’d like to hear.”

“How about Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Free Bird’?”

Surprise brought her head around with a jerk. “‘Free Bird’?” Her eyebrows lowered in doubt, and her footsteps slowed. “I never would have pegged you for an old Southern rock fan.”

“I’m not,” he said, suppressed humor bunching his brow. “But anyone who’s been bailed out of jail should have ‘Free Bird’ as their theme song.”

Her eyes slowly narrowed as she stopped and faced him, raising his heart rate. Her location on the stairs brought them eye to eye, her mouth level with his.

The perfect position for capturing those lips.

“Your ability to deliver a subtle slap on the wrist is extraordinary, Suit,” she said silkily. “It takes real talent to chastise someone in the same breath as a musical request.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but the awareness did. “But I have my own ideas for a personal theme song.”

Voice huskier than usual, he said, “So what song would be most appropriate?”

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, as a small, purely female smile crept up her face. “Let’s see.” Mouth pursed, she pretended to give the question careful consideration, and he couldn’t get past the image of her puckered lips. “I was thrown in jail for defending an institution that I believe in,” she said, sending him a pointed look. “And then promptly chastised for my reckless behavior by a man who thinks he’s living life on the edge when he ignores the do-not-remove-by-penalty-of-law tag on his mattress.”

He barely managed to repress the image of her on his mattress. “I would never do that.”

“Of course not. How about make a right on red when it’s posted not to?”

“It’s against the law,” he said lightly.

Her hazel eyes flickered with heat. “Briefly park your car in the drop-off lane at the airport?”

“Illegal.” He struggled to keep the sizzle from his gaze. “Not to mention inconsiderate.”

Jax bit her delectable lip, clearly suppressing the grin as she turned and continued up, reaching the second floor and moving down an empty hallway. “So my willingness to risk an arrest for my cause is being questioned by a man who thinks I’m reckless for leaving home without an umbrella when there’s a ten percent chance of rain. I’m thinking the most appropriate song for me is ‘It’s My Life’ by Bon Jovi.” She entered a small, cramped office with two desks and stopped, turning to face him again. “But that’s only because I’m not aware of any songs entitled—” Jax leaned in, bringing her arousing, obstinate gaze closer “—‘My Choices Are None of Your Damn Business.’”

She was near enough for him to see the flecks of brown and green in her eyes. But he didn’t require a close-up view to see the fire snapping in her gaze, the stubborn insistence that she would do what she wanted and damn The consequences.

Including touching him…

The memory resurfaced, resurrecting the acute need she’d created when she’d held his lips. Her soft fingers. The heated skin. And the smell of vanilla filling the car. Suddenly he was struck with the realization that Jax’s scent was always changing, as unpredictable as the woman herself.

With his heart pounding, his tone was rough as he dished up a dose of harsh reality. “Your choices are my business now.”

At the reminder of her current living arrangements—made more alarming by the chemistry sizzling between them—time stretched. Expanded to impossible lengths. Gazes locked, the moment lasted ten forevers as awareness pulsed between them. Until they were interrupted by a woman about Jax’s age as she poked her head through the doorway.

“Janet Bennet stopped by looking for you, Jax,” the blonde said. Blake cleared his throat, willing his libido to heel, and Jax took a small step back as her coworker sent her an encouraging smile. “There’s a private-practice therapy group in town that’s looking to hire a music therapist, and she recommended you. Apparently the job is yours if you want it,” the woman continued. “They can afford to pay you a lot better, too.”

Looking unconcerned, Jax retrieved her mail from the cubbyholes lining one wall and began flipping through the envelopes. “I’ll hold out until South Glade is back on its feet.”

“You haven’t heard?” her coworker said.

Eyes now alert, Jax looked up from her mail. “Heard what?”





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