Chapter Two
Oh man, she was in trouble.
Jake was the one thing she couldn't resist. She'd given up smoking - a terrible college habit picked up when she dated a musician. And she'd given up musicians when they proved to be hazardous to her sanity and her hearing. When necessary, she abstained from chocolate, expensive coffee drinks and weekly mani/pedis, but Jake was in an entirely different category.
She'd been so good this past week after he'd run out of her apartment like his ass was on fire and then avoided her. It had hurt. She wasn't even going to try and deny it. She had it bad for Dr. Ash.
Stupid, stupid girl.
He shuffled on his feet, reminding her that he was still standing on the path, waiting for her say something.
"You can lie down if you want." Piper gestured towards the empty lawn space to her left.
She eyed him hungrily as the fists balled up at his sides loosened and he lowered himself to the ground. His black tux draped perfectly over his long, lean muscled frame. He moved with a wolfish grace which was mirrored in the grin that seldom flashed across his face at work but she'd seen it many times when they were together. If the truth were told, it was the grin that first drew her attention to the serious surgeon who wasn't remotely her type.
Desperate to keep from flinging herself across his sexy body, she returned her gaze to the full moon in the summer night sky. She'd escaped from the party, the DC snobs and the uncomfortable and arousing awareness of Jake across the terrace, and found a quiet spot in the garden to collect her thoughts and calm her emotions. She'd almost convinced herself that she could return to the crowd and watch all those women flirt with Jake when his unmistakable voice had penetrated her solitude.
"So, Jake. It's your dime," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"You left all the beautiful people to find me." She shifted to watch his profile in the moonlight. "Why?"
He turned his head to meet her eyes. "I told you. I want you."
"It's a little too late for a booty call. You missed your chance."
"A booty-? This isn't about sex."
She huffed out a laugh as she broke their visual connection. It was doing a number on her ability to maintain her anger.
"Fair enough. I want you but it isn't why I followed you." His voice sounded gruff, so unlike his usual polished baritone with the hint of a southern drawl. His voice usually made her weak in the knees so she was glad she was lying down.
"I wanted to apologize."
"For ditching me half-dressed on my living room floor or for ignoring me?" she asked.
"Both, actually."
Oh no. It wouldn't take much of an apology for her to wind up kissing him or taking off her clothes - again. His honesty cooled her anger a little, but the hurt still remained. She held onto it like a flotation device in the roiling sea of her emotions.
"Well, thanks for the apology. You can go back to the party with a clean conscience."
"Piper, baby. Talk to me."
Oh, man. Not again. The first time he'd called her baby, groaning it against her skin as they grappled in his car after their first date, she'd melted into pure, liquid goo. The sexy endearment was also the reason they'd ended up in the back seat, writhing against each other like horny teenagers. It was bliss.
Until the cops showed up and knocked on the window.
"Jake. You said it yourself. We are the couple voted 'most unlikely'. We need to let it go."
"I don't want to let it go."
"And, I don't want to borrow trouble." She turned to look at his face, remembering how his long lashes swept along her skin as he kissed and tasted her. "You're trouble for me, Jake."
"I don't think so," he disagreed, scooting closer.
Their knees touched and she could smell his cologne mixed with the clean scent of sweat on his summer-warmed skin. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his fingers were brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist.
"What are you then?"
"I'm an asshole."
He'd surprised her. Again. The unexpected kept her addicted to this man.
"Okay." She rolled to her side facing him as she propped herself up on an elbow. "You've got five minutes."
