Page 3 of In His Arms

He smiled at her comment. “You still love me. That’s all that counts.”

Jessica stared, dumbfounded, not knowing whether to take his words to heart. He said she loved him? Her mind fogged over while she tried to process their conversation. She didn’t love him, love him. Not that way at least. What did he mean by that?

“Come on, Jessie, for old time’s sake.” He smiled again, and Jessica gripped the counter to keep herself upright. “Tell me your dirty secrets, and I’ll tell you mine.”

She tried to think of a quick comeback. Her heart beat wildly while her mind remained completely blank. Her body was on fire for him, for his touch, and the flame ignited without any warning. After so many years, how could she still have a crush on him? How could she still have these same responses to him and his charm?

“My dirty little secrets, huh?” She took a drink of her tea, swallowing the last of it in one gulp. “I joined a strip-workout club in New York. Taught me some interesting things I didn’t know a human form could do.”

His eyes darkened. “Interesting. Have you tried those things on a male subject before?”

“What? Are you offering?” Maybe Annabelle was right. Maybe she did need to go with the flow. She grinned, having a little fun with the thought of putting Alex at loss for words.

But he wasn’t. Just like old times he smarted off quick comebacks too.

“Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.” He grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I bet. Typical male answer. What’s your secret?”

“I don’t have secrets.” He scooped up his plate and glass. “I’m an open book.”

He left her in wonder and pushed through the swinging stainless steel double doors. Open book, my foot.

“That’s my job.” She followed him inside the kitchen, amazed that he started running the water for their dishes. Tired, but thankful, she added her dishes to the sudsy water.

“I’ll wash; you dry.” He pulled off his suit coat and tossed it with disregard onto the prep table in the back. He rolled up his sleeves. Inch by inch, he revealed muscular forearms covered with tanned skin and dark hair.

He didn’t have much muscle tone when they’d been in high school, but now—now he was buff and looked strong enough to carry a bus. She would have never guessed, Alex Gray had a rock solid body under the expensive black suit.

“You really don’t have to help me,” she insisted and turned the faucet off. “I do get paid to do this, you know.”

“It’s after hours.” He gripped her shoulders from behind, and a slight shiver of awareness slithered down her spine. His breath fanned against her neck in a hot blast of air while he whispered, “Move over.”

She complied and shifted sideways for him to wash the dishes while she dried them. He chatted about living in L.A., his life, and his work . Listening to him talk made her realize how much she missed working in New York.

“So, you going to tell me why you left the Big Apple?” He pulled the drain plug and turned to face her while she dried off the last of their dishes.

She debated her words. “Things happened, Alex. Justin was a jerk, and I fell victim to his charm.”

“That’s a shame.” He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “You deserve better.”

She dropped the plate she held, sending it crashing to the floor. It shattered at their feet, ceramic scattering every direction. Jessica bent immediately, rushing to gather the pieces. Her cheeks burned with unwelcome warmth for her clumsiness, and she silently noted to herself to pay Annabelle for the dish tomorrow.

Alex bent to help her, a mask of concern on his face while he collected the larger pieces. “Are you okay? You seem jumpy.”

“I’m fine.” She wanted to scream at him that he made her jumpy, but that was immature.

“Jess, you’re bleeding.” She didn’t respond, and he pulled her hand to him. “Stop.”

Small drops of blood spilled from the tips of her fingers in little bubbles of crimson. “Jessie, look at me.”

She slowly lifted her eyes to him. With care and gentleness, he held her injured hand in his while he reached for a paper napkin on the counter. “God, Jessie, your fingers are chopped to pieces.” He lightly dabbed at the cuts. “Didn’t you feel it cut into your skin?”

“They’re fine.” She tried pulling her hand away, but he held it firmly in his warm palm. “Alex, I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.”

“Just shut up for a minute while I get the first aid kit.” He stood, reaching out his hand to help her to her feet.

He left for the back room, where Annabelle kept the first aid kit, and a few seconds later carried it back with him. Jessica forgot he knew this place well. He stretched his expensive jacket out along the prep table. Next, he pulled her to him, boosting her up on the jacket. He slid between her legs, seemingly unaffected by his position, and began sorting through the kit to find what he needed.

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