Page 40 of Black Jack (Advantage Play 5)

I freaking love her.

“Hey,” a voice startles me from behind. My eyes pop open as I practically jump out of my skin and turn around.

Clutching my chest, I curse, “Shit. You scared me, Jack!”

He grimaces. “Sorry.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Coming to exercise. You?”

He’s sporting a white T-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts that hang low on his hips. The combination is enough to give me a view of his biceps, an outline of his pecs and strong shoulders, and an up close and personal tour of his calf muscles.

I’ve always been a sucker for calf muscles.

“Just finished,” I mutter under my breath.

“Looks like it,” he notes, lifting his chin to point out my drenched hair that I have no doubt looks like a mess.

I tuck a strand of my naturally curly hair behind my ear and drop my gaze to the ground, desperate to disappear. I wake up at the ass crack of dawn so that no one has to look at me like this. All sweaty, and red, and––

“You look gorgeous,” Jack interrupts as if he can read my thoughts. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable or anything.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

“Sure, you’re not.” His mouth quirks up on one side. “Why are you wearing makeup?”

My heart thunders in my chest, but I pretend I’m as cool as a cucumber. A bitchy cucumber, but still. “I always wear makeup but thanks for noticing, Sherlock.”

“Why?”

“Because I like to?”

Please don’t look too closely, I silently plead to no one in particular. I’d done my makeup, but I’ve also been sweating like it’s going out of style, and tattoo concealer can only cover so much.

Sensing my annoyance, Jack raises his hands in surrender and asks, “Did you find the gift?”

“You should return it,” I tell him.

“Why?”

“Like you said, you can’t afford it, remember?”

He sighs. “I screwed up, Bianca. In more ways than one.”

“Yeah. You did.”

“And I want to make it up to you.”

“We’ve already tried that. Flowers, lobster, wine, and jewelry. A for effort, Jacky Boy, but I’m not someone who can be bought off.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I shove it aside and fold my arms across my sweaty chest.

I probably smell like shit despite my deodorant’s valiant effort, and even though I don’t care whether or not he’s attracted to me, I need to get out of here. I take a step toward the exit when Jack stops me, engulfing my bicep with his hand. Then he pulls me closer to him, and forces me to look him in the eyes.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet. He’s too close. And he smells too good. I restrain myself from leaning closer to take a giant whiff. “But since we’re struggling to connect, it was the only thing I could think to do. I’m sorry. I was an ass last night. You were right. I do get jealous when I think of you with other men. But we both have our pasts, and I need to come to terms with that. That’s on me. And I shouldn’t have taken my insecurities out on you.”

Jaw slack, I blink back my surprise and gather my defenses around me like a security blanket.

“No,” I reply, coolly. “You shouldn’t have.”

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