A Gentleman in the Street (16 page)

Her nod was slow, her expression considering. “You’ll probably fail.”

It took him a second to realize she was agreeing to his asinine proposal. He bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t let out a whoop.

“I have confidence in my abilities.” He flexed his fingers. “And good hands.”

Her eyes lingered on his hands. “One week.”

Not long enough. “Two weeks.”

She lifted her chin. “Ten days.”

Hmm. Ten days would be tight, but he’d made a rookie error in starting negotiations at what he actually wanted. She wouldn’t agree to a longer length of time as a matter of pride now. “Ten days. Not counting the days we don’t meet up.”

“A day counts as any time we’re in each other’s presence.”

“Do we need to have our legal teams draft a contract?” he asked, joking.

For a second, he thought she was going to get her lawyer on the phone. But instead, she gave a slow shake of her head. “I think we can call this a gentleman’s agreement.”

“So…deal?”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth, a rare sign of indecision. “Deal.”

He looked down at the box so he could hide his relief. “We could start tonight. It looks like you have some food here,” he said, perusing the desk. “It’ll get cold. I haven’t had dinner yet.”

A smile stretched across her face, and he watched, fascinated. It was a real smile, unlike any she’d ever graced him with before. There and gone in a flash, it didn’t last long.

He’d see it again, he vowed grimly.

“Fishing for a dinner invitation?”

“In the most subtle of ways.”

“So we can be friends,” she said, skeptical.

That sounded right. Comfortable. Not scary or intimidating, for either of them. “Yes.”

“Well…”

He waited with bated breath as she considered his proposal.

“I suppose I do have enough food to feed an army,” she said.

Confused, he looked down at the half-a-dozen containers on the desk. This amount of food would barely feed half his family. “I’m sure we can put a dent in it,” he replied, in lieu of confessing he was a gluttonous pig who could easily manage to pack away these calories for a moderate-sized lunch.

Her shoulders rose. “There aren’t any plates.”

He shot her a quick sideways glance. The explanation was out of character for her. Was she nervous? Of him? The situation?

Not right. “Plates for Chinese takeout? Not necessary. What do you like? There’s beef and broccoli, chow mein, some stir-fried veggies…”

“I haven’t had Chinese in so long, I don’t remember what I like,” she admitted.

“We order it every week.”

She made a scoffing noise. “I’m thirty-four, not twenty anymore. I have to be more careful.”

After a comment like that, how could he resist casting an assessing eye over her slim body? He focused back on the cartons, opening the rice. “I think you’ll be okay, even with a few indulgences,” he said, gruff. “Here, we can share everything.” He handed her a pair of chopsticks, which she took warily.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t blame her for being wary. He would eradicate that. He glanced around and dragged the chair facing the desk closer to the table. He sat down, casual as possible, and picked up the nearest container, uncaring of what it was.

She sat more slowly and did the same. They ate in silence for long moments, Akira picking at a couple of the containers. “We’re going to be spending all this time in each other’s company.”

“Yes.” Torture. Joy. Apprehension.

Worth it.

“There’s an elephant in the room, Jacob.”

He swallowed the bite he had taken, finding his mouth dry of saliva. He had carefully focused on maneuvering her into accepting his impulsive deal, eyes on the prize of her forgiveness.

Of course there was an elephant in the room. It had taken all his concentration to not let his mind stray to visions of her naked. Pleasured.

He clenched his thighs, fighting his body’s natural reaction. “I know.”

“Are we going to talk about it?” Her fingers toyed with the chopsticks. “What we did?”

Unbidden, his eyes slid over to the rug. “What we did here?”

“Here. And in that storage room.”

Talk about the storage room? He wanted to reenact what they had done in the storage room. Only this time, he would be the one between her thighs, making those cries fall from her sweet, lush mouth, cries he wouldn’t stifle, let the whole party hear what he did to her…

Jacob shifted, his cock thickening despite his best efforts. No, no, no.
Too soon.
He wasn’t here for this.

Their truce was so fragile. “Probably best not to,” he finally said, as matter-of-fact as he was capable of being. “Not yet.”

Her beautiful dark eyes gave nothing away. “So when?”

“I’ll let you know.”

She took another bite from her carton and squinted at him. “So. Now what?”

From one difficult question to the next. It was becoming rapidly apparent he hadn’t thought this through. What could he talk about with a woman he’d spent fourteen years alternately avoiding and pining over? “Now we pretend to be normal people.”

“Hell.” Akira set down the carton. “We’re doomed.”

Akira’s doorbell was far too loud.

Or perhaps her home was simply too large, the sound echoing over the massive foyer, up through the unused bedrooms.

She stared at the double doors, her fingers drumming against her knee. She should get up off the stairs where she sat and answer it, but the fact that she wanted so very badly to kept her seated, counting to one hundred.

Jacob would be standing on the other side of the entrance, and though this was the third night in a row they were trying out this tentative peace, it was the first time he was coming to her home. Ever.

Her fingers curled as she slowly counted through the fifties.

There was no possible way she could hide all her personal things here. She’d purposefully laid her stamp on the place, and for good reason—only her closest friends and most vetted confidantes were permitted to visit this house. Business functions were handled in impersonal hotel ballrooms. Not in her home.

She wasn’t quite sure how Jacob had managed to invite himself. She’d informed him she would be busy, packing for a quick two
-
day trip to New York to meet with the head of the Anderson Group, who she feared was getting cold feet about selling his European assets to her. She’d spent too long combing through the due
-
diligence reports legal counsel had sent her to have this idiot back out now simply because he hadn’t warmed to her personally.

She’d told Jacob as much, and the next thing she knew, he was coming over.

He was a wizard. It was the only explanation as to why she was incapable of saying no to this man.

Case in point: this ridiculous agreement. She could find someone else to open the damn box. Tatiana had a lead on the company that had initially crafted the thing. Hell, Akira didn’t even particularly care what was inside it. Getting the thing into her possession had been her goal for so long, simply having it was enough for now.

You just wanted to spend more time with him.

Guilty. Though the last two nights had been a bit awkward and strained at times, things were…different. There was a shift in the way he looked at her and talked to her. Like she was the friend he’d said he was looking for.

He had a quiet irresistible charm and surprising hidden depths. Like last night, when he had brought up her work habits. “You always work late like this?”

“No.” She could have ended with the short answer, but he’d been looking at her expectantly, as if he was actually curious about her business. “I’m trying to finagle a deal, taking over the European arm of this corporation. They’re running the actual businesses into the ground, but they have great locations.”

“Sounds important.”

“It is. It could instantly almost triple my holdings there.” Europe was a market she had long been eager to expand in. That was where the Mori hotels had been particularly robust.

Not that she was competing with her father. But, well…she couldn’t deny that it would give her a great deal of satisfaction to rub his face in her success on his home turf.

“So no, I don’t always work as late as this, but I probably do work later than most people.”

He didn’t respond, so she prodded him. “Aren’t you going to lecture me on proper work-life balance?” A phrase she rather despised. She had a proper work-life balance, but people either assumed she did nothing but party or she worked herself to death. No one understood her work-life balance was just right for her.

He had cast her a confused look. “I work late sometimes because I enjoy it and I don’t want to stop. You should do whatever makes you happy. Even if that’s staying here until midnight.”

Maybe he was telling her what she wanted to hear. But that made no sense. He got nothing out of winning her over—money, sex, or fame hadn’t exactly been a part of his deal.

A shocking thought: perhaps he had no ulterior motives other than getting to know her without the negativity that had contaminated every dealing they’d had before.

She narrowed her eyes. Look at him, not even impatiently ringing the doorbell more than once, though she was taking her sweet time in answering. What kind of a saint was he?

She rose slowly to her feet and made her way to the door, pulling it open. He gave her his lopsided, rare smile, and she almost slammed the heavy wood in his face.

She wasn’t used to this at all. Somehow, it was easier to deal with the man when he was brooding and being silently disapproving. Then she knew what to expect, was able to predict his actions, which in turn dictated her own. This guy…no, she had no idea what he was up to.

“So you answer your own door.”

“It’s the butler’s night off.”

He snorted as he walked past her, forcing her to open the door wider to accommodate his large frame. When she didn’t respond, he turned, his red sweater clinging to his muscles.

The spurt of lust was almost second nature by now. Almost
.

“Oh. You’re serious.”

She closed the door and shoved her hands into her pockets. “Of course I’m serious. Do you really think I have time to run a house of this size in addition to my business?”

“Hmm.” Jacob glanced around, and she had to fight her instinctive urge to blindfold him, perhaps lead him to the most nondescript and boring room in the place. She had a guestroom on the third floor that was in the process of being renovated. He could go there.

No, there was only a bed in that room. He might get the wrong idea. Or the right idea.

“Yeah, I suppose you would need help here.”

“It’s not such a big deal.” She hated the urge to apologize for her wealth. “My mother had a butler.”

“Only for parties,” Jacob responded absentmindedly, while he studied the crown molding with a heavy fascination. “Not on a regular basis.”

Akira rocked back on her heels. “Right.”

His eyes softened. “Sorry. Did you not know…?”

“The box is in my library.” She covered her slip hastily, not eager to delve into all the ways this man had known her mother better than she had. “Do you want to wait here while I grab it?”

“I’ll come with you.” He fell into step beside her, adjusting the strap of his ever-present messenger bag.

“You don’t have to.” Probably best to keep him to safer parts of the house. She’d assumed they would eat in the dining room. Harris had laid out a simple spread for the two of them before heading out for his night off.

She supposed she could have handed Jacob the box, in accordance with their stupid agreement, and left him to it while she attended to her own affairs, but he had provided dinners for the past two nights. If nothing else, she was a good host.

This had nothing to do with her newly discovered fascination for the way he dug into his meals with such relish and gusto, the movement of his strong throat as he swallowed, the unselfconscious way he threw himself into enjoying his meal. Nor did it have anything to do with their still-strained, yet oddly compelling conversations between bites.

“I don’t mind,” he said mildly.

She slid him a sideways glance as she led him down the hallway. The first floor was made up of her library, kitchen, formal dining room, and three sitting rooms. The library was the only room she actually used when she was alone. “You just want to see my library, don’t you?”

“How could you tell?”

“You looked mildly aroused when I used the word ‘library’. And I know it wasn’t for me, since I don’t elicit
mild
arousal.” The flirtatious sally wasn’t deliberate. It was an automatic reflex. She wanted to recall the words as soon as she’d uttered them.

She flirted with her friends, but Jacob probably didn’t. Would he become cold and cutting now? A shaft of sorrow ran through her, but it didn’t get far, because he spoke.

“No,” he responded, his tone husky. “You don’t.”

She glanced at him sharply, but his hair hid his eyes. Still, a little fission of awareness ran down her spine.

Well. Well. Well. Was Jacob Campbell flirting with her?

“I like your house. Or what I’ve seen of it,” came his deep voice. Not cold or cutting.

“Yeah?” She quickened her steps. His longer legs automatically matched her stride. “My mother was here once. She declared it all incredibly tacky.” Mei had sneered at the huge chandeliers and lavish furnishings. And she had never even made it past the first floor. The second, where Akira did her entertaining, would have given the woman a heart attack.

“I don’t think it’s tacky. Did you decorate it yourself, or did you buy it like this?”

Her shoulders lifted. “I did it myself.”

“It’s beautiful. Really.”

She gave a single, decisive nod, a tight knot in her chest releasing. “Yes, it is.”

“Though I’m probably not qualified to judge. I hardly visit Pacific Heights houses regularly.”

“No Specific Whites friends for you?”

He tipped his head, acknowledging her use of the derisive term for the elite, mostly white neighborhood. “No. And I’m okay with that. No offense.”