Page 32 of Love & Rockets

Chapter 7

The realization of what was about to happen between them sent a jolt down Darla’s spine. She studied Jake’s profile as he turned into the parking lot of his bayside condo. Here, on his turf, all of his antsy awkwardness seemed to dissipate. In fact, the man looked positively placid. If it weren’t for the tiny muscle jumping in the corner of his jaw, she’d think he was the epitome of cool.

Thank goodness for the little tell.

The chink in his otherwise unruffled exterior kept her from melting down with mortification. She’d been the one to up the ante. She couldn’t really blame the guy for calling her bluff.

But this wasn’t a bluff. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. She wanted wild monkey sex. Been a while since she’d had anything approaching more than what she’d classify as the somewhat excitable squirrel variety, and damn if she wasn’t aching to swing from the tree limbs. Even if only for one night.

Darla’s train of thought completely derailed when Jake pulled to a stop directly in front of the one warehouse building that had been completely renovated. Suddenly, she found it impossible to look directly at him. Instead, she stared holes in the faux-rock facade flanking the building’s main entrance. She was a mother, for cripes’ sake. The mother of a teenage girl, no less. She should be setting a better example than this. Not that Gracie knew she was thinking about having hot monkey sex with her nerd god mentor. They were close, but Darla believed some boundaries were preordained by the laws of nature. No child should ever have to contemplate her mother’s sex life. Ever.

“Are you okay?”

His voice was soft and deep. A rich, mellow baritone any voice-over announcer would be proud to claim. But no. This man was made for telling other people’s stories. He had too much of his own to share, too much to discover, to spend his life speaking other people’s lines. She closed her eyes, envisioning him standing at a lectern dressed in a tweedy sport coat with elbow patches. Almost, but not quite. The image shifted and merged with memory. Jake with the sleeves of his blue oxford cloth shirt rolled up to his elbows and his head bent over a book. A textbook. Instead of a roomful of co-eds hanging on his every word, there was only Grace. Her perfect little girl, whose dreams hinged on this man’s help.

“You can’t…” She sputtered, then stopped. “I don’t want….”

Once again, she let the thought drift as she groped for exactly the right thing to say. Saying how she wanted things to be shouldn’t be this hard. She’d been the one calling the shots for almost fourteen years. Coming up with a few more rules in a life already governed by a myriad of self-imposed do’s and don’ts shouldn’t be this much of a challenge. But it was. How the hell was a woman supposed to engage in a steamy affair if she had to set guidelines first?

“I can take you home.”

The soft-spoken offer slipped into her scrambling thoughts. “What? No.”

Jake killed the engine, unclipped his seatbelt, then turned to face her. The expression on his handsome face was achingly sincere. “Darla, I didn’t expect to sleep with you tonight.”

Bless his ever-lovin’ heart, the man’s voice actually broke. The telltale creak alone almost landed him a lapful of lady, but he didn’t give her a chance to make good on her lascivious intentions.

“I wanted to spend some time with you.”

Her scoff was reflexive. She turned on him, falling back on the old offense as defense bit. “Spend some time looking at my tits, you mean.”

His jaw tightened and a flush crept up past the collar of his shirt. “No, I asked you to have dinner with me. I did not choose your outfit for the occasion.”

Instant regret twinged her heart, and the crisp, sharp edges of his words bit into her skin. “No,” she admitted in a whisper.

“And I apologized for staring. I know I was rude—”

“Jake—”

“But I never did or said anything to make you think there would be some kind of quid pro quo expected—”

“Points for vocabulary words,” she interjected.

“For anything,” he continued, undaunted. “I am not helping Grace to get to you, and I never even implied I expected this evening to result in anything of a sexual nature.”

“God, you’re hot when you get all stiff and starchy.” Darla clamped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks bursting into flames as she stared at him wide-eyed. “I did not mean to say that out loud.”

He stared at her for a moment, his gorgeous mouth slightly agape, then sighed his defeat. Clasping the top of the steering wheel, he dropped his forehead to his knuckles, muttering things about never understanding women and something about blood loss. When he didn’t move for a full minute, she reached over and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“My turn to apologize.”

He shot her sidelong glance. “Is this a trap?”

His wary response coaxed a rueful laugh from her. Raising her right hand, she tilted her head down to look him in the eye. “I swear, no trap.” Heaving a sigh, she lowered her hand to her lap and curled her fingers into a loose fist. “I need things to be clear between us.”

“Clear?” He barked a laugh and turned his face to his hands once more. “Clear as a friggin’ nebula.”

She grinned, his lapse into geek speak putting her more at ease. “I’ll pretend that means something good and blow right past.”

---