A Man to Believe In (8 page)

“Okay,” she said. “Susie’s old enough to choose her own friends. Why’d you make such a big fuss about her new boyfriend today?”

“Because he’s a loser.”

Cori gave him a doubtful look. “Have you met Robert?”

“No, but I know his type.”

“And what type is that?”

“He’s a dreamer. He’s chasing after a nonexistent rainbow he’ll never find. And if he gets married and has kids, they’ll never come first with him. Because the dream always means more to guys like that than the responsibility of taking care of his family.” Jake looked away for a second. “As I said before, I know his type.”

He looked so serious all of a sudden, and for a brief moment she wondered if they were still talking about Robert. “Maybe your sister likes his type,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, well, she’s young and doesn’t know any better. But someday soon she’s going to want to settle down and raise a family, and she’ll need a husband who can share that responsibility.
That’s
the kind of man she should be dating.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, realizing there was a certain truth to what he’d said. “But the fact remains, she’s old enough to make those decisions for herself, and who she chooses to go out with really isn’t any of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t.” Jake threw down his napkin and stood up. Without saying another word he left the room.

Her mouth half open, Cori watched his stiff-backed exit in silence, then pulled her lips together into a thin line. In a matter of seconds he’d gone beyond
serious to flat-out angry. Somewhere along the line she’d managed to get just as worked up about the subject as he was, probably because her own struggle for independence was still remarkably fresh in her mind.

She’d been young—a junior in college when she’d dated graduate student Alan Phillips—but plenty old enough to make her own decisions, and steadfastly determined to do so. As if it were yesterday she remembered the arguments they’d had when she refused to accept his edicts where she was concerned, the frustrations she’d felt each time he’d proclaimed he knew what was best for her. Yes, she knew exactly what Susie was going through trying to convince Jake she was qualified to make her own decisions and be in control of her own life.

Cori found herself sympathizing with Robert as well. The grand opening of her bookstore was just around the corner because in spite of the numerous obstacles she’d encountered over the years, she never gave up on her dream of owning her own business. Sure, it had been a struggle, working overtime at the library, taking second jobs to earn extra money. Convincing the bank to make her a loan was no easy task either. But she’d done it because she’d been determined to achieve her goal. Naturally she would jump to the defense of anyone who was willing to keep trying no matter what the odds for success might be.

But no matter how well she related to Susie’s struggle for independence or Robert’s need to hold on to a dream, it wasn’t her business to tell Jake how
to handle his relationship with his sister, she admitted. In fact, the way she’d been throwing her opinions around wasn’t all that different from the way Jake had been trying to tell Susie what to do.

Smiling grimly, she stood up and drew in a deep breath. No doubt about it, she owed Jake an apology. She might as well get it over with.

She found him in his study. He was sitting at one end of a cordovan leather couch, his long legs stretched out before him and resting on a scarred oak coffee table, a magazine in his hands. A deep-toned Persian rug covered a good portion of the hardwood floor, and built-in bookcases, overflowing with books, magazines, and trophies of all shapes and sizes, lined one entire wall. The room, with its dark oak paneling and plantation shutters, was like the man—distinctly masculine. Still standing at the threshold of his domain, she found herself feeling particularly feminine.

“If you’re still speaking to me, I’d like to apologize,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jake glanced up, then leaned forward and dropped the magazine on the table. “For what?”

“I said some things I shouldn’t have.” She smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “I guess I deserve a good swift kick in the fanny, huh?”

He pulled his feet from the table and planted them on the floor, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Clasping his hands together, he allowed himself a nice long, head-to-toe once-over of the woman standing in the doorway to his study.

Her cheeks were flushed, probably from having
consumed a little too much wine, or maybe because of the way she’d worked herself into a lather arguing with him. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and down the front of her pink sweatshirt, the ends barely covering the gentle swell of her breasts. Stone-washed jeans clung to her slender curves and long legs, causing him to wonder if it was possible for a sane man to be jealous of a yard or so of blue denim.

More than a dozen things came instantly to mind when he thought about what he’d like to do to the portion of her anatomy she’d offered him, but not one of them would cause her the sort of discomfort brought on by a swift kick in the fanny.

“In this instance,” he said, “I don’t think corporal punishment would be appropriate.” He patted the cushion beside him. “Have a seat. Maybe we can negotiate a truce.”

Cori came and sat down next to him. She probably hadn’t meant to sit so close, but she sank into the butter-soft leather and rolled toward him until their thighs touched. Jake had always liked the couch. Tonight it earned an extra special place in his heart.

“You’re not mad?” she asked, her brows raised in doubt.

He shook his head. “Nope, and I’m sorry I yelled at you, especially since you didn’t say anything I haven’t heard many times.”

“From Susie?”

“Yeah,” he admitted with a nod. “We’ve had the very same argument more times than I can count.” When Cori opened her mouth to speak, he held up
his hand. “I don’t mean to try to run her life for her. It’s just that she seems so serious about this guy Robert, and it worries me. He’s an actor, for Pete’s sake. The chances of him ever making a decent living are slim to none.”

Frowning, Cori had to admit Jake had a point. She’d read enough statistics about the acting business to know that an incredibly small percentage of actors made more money than they knew what to do with. The rest would starve if they had to depend solely on acting jobs to pay their bills. For most people, it was a tough way to make a living.

And while Jake seemed to cling to old-fashioned ideas about a man being the sole support of his family, when it came to the bottom line, his main concern was for his sister’s welfare. Cori couldn’t fault the man for that. In fact, she admired him. Still, there was one angle Jake hadn’t considered.

“Haven’t you ever wanted something so badly you were willing to keep trying,” she asked, “no matter how many times you failed, no matter how often you were told you’d never be able to accomplish your goal?”

Jake stood up. He walked over to the wet bar built into one corner of the study and opened a leaded-glass door. Without saying a word he pulled a snifter from the cupboard, then poured a generous amount of brandy into the glass. His arm outstretched, he offered it to Cori. She shook her head. He knew she was waiting for him to answer her question.

He took his drink and went over to stand in front of the fireplace. Resting one foot on the hearth, sipping
slowly, he thought about what she’d said. He thought about the obvious hints she’d given him at the party when they’d met, hints that should have told him he didn’t have one chance in a million at getting her to go out with him. He thought about her reaction when he’d shown up at the library the next day, how she’d made it crystal-clear she didn’t want to talk to him. And he thought about the way she’d turned down his lunch invitation and the ballet tickets over and over. But no matter how often she’d turned him down, he kept asking.

A man more easily discouraged—or less determined—would have given up long ago.

Jake took a final sip of brandy, then set the glass down on the mantel and went over to the couch. Without questioning what he was about to do, or where his actions would lead, he sat down next to her and took her face in his hands.

“Yes, Cori,” he told her honestly, finally understanding Robert’s need to keep trying in the face of incredible odds. “I have wanted something that badly.”

Barely breathing, Cori watched as he lowered his mouth to hers. She slowly closed her eyes, refusing to think about what she was doing, or about where it would end.

He brushed a series of kisses against her lips, whisper-soft and full of promise. She didn’t turn away, or try to stop him, and the pressure increased so slightly, she thought she might have imagined it. She wondered why he didn’t kiss her harder, then realized with a start that he was giving her time to
change her mind. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

Enveloped in a cloud of spicy cologne, she gave herself up to the feelings washing over her. She let her hands travel up his arms, relishing the way his muscles tightened in response. She remembered another time, at the Halloween party. His skin had been bare to her touch then as well. She’d tested his strength with her fingertips and found his barely leashed power exciting. Now, linking her hands behind his neck, she pulled him closer.

She felt his work-roughened hands caress the smooth skin on her cheeks, creating a delicious friction. Still, he kissed her as if she were fragile, moving his lips over hers in a slow, lazy pattern until she thought he had to be driving her crazy on purpose. She leaned closer still, pressing against him, wanting more than anything for him to quit holding back and really kiss her. A quiet moan escaped his mouth, but for reasons she couldn’t begin to imagine, he clung to his control. In a last effort to push him over the edge, she glided her tongue over the ridge of his upper lip.

With a groan he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth.

She felt a spark ignite in the pit of her stomach. It spread like wildfire through every inch of her body. For a long moment their tongues dueled playfully, first in her mouth, then in his. He snaked his fingers through her hair and held her head firmly as he bit her lower lip, then slowly drew it into his mouth.

Years of denying herself this pleasure melted away.
She knew she had reasons—lots of them—for avoiding situations like the one she was in now, but she couldn’t think of a single one right then.

Slowly, he eased her down, covering her body with his own. Soft leather creaked beneath her as his mouth continued its assault. She ran her hands across his broad shoulders and down his back, enjoying the sensation of touching him, kissing him.

Jake slid his hand up to cup her breast. Through sweatshirt, T-shirt, and a bra that had to be as sheer as a sigh, she responded to his touch, her nipple puckering against the material that hid her from him. Lowering his head, he drew the sensitive peak into his mouth through the layers of cotton.

He heard her cry out his name.

Her fingers clenched handfuls of his hair. She arched her back.

His hands were on her bare skin now, pushing aside cloth obstacles, seeking to touch her without barriers. On a mission of its own, his mouth followed, tasting skin heated with passion.

He told himself he should stop. In a matter of seconds it would be too late. He would be unable to pull away from her, and in the end he would regret his lack of control. Because it was too soon for this to happen.

She responded to him with such abandon. She’d kissed him back, eagerly arching to meet his caress. She’d pulled him closer, demanding more. But he knew she wasn’t ready.

If they made love tonight, she would regret it in the morning. She would find a way to rationalize their
lovemaking and reduce it to mere physical attraction.

And it was so much more.

Slowly, painfully, he pulled away from her and sat up. His eyes closed, he fell back on the couch, breathing heavily, shocked by the effort it had taken to perform the seemingly simple movement.

“Wow.” That was all he could get out.

A moment later he heard the quiet creak of leather. He opened his eyes, but he didn’t have to look at her to know that she’d sat up and scooted to the opposite end of the couch. Just out of reach.

Cori took a deep breath, tugging at her T-shirt and sweatshirt, pulling them down to cover herself. She tried to think of something to say, but she was so stunned, she couldn’t speak. Tonight she’d discovered that Jake knew two ways to end a discussion—by stomping out of the room in a huff, and by making love. His second method was not only more effective, it was also far more enjoyable. And it scared the daylights out of her. “I’d like to go home now,” she finally told him, her voice barely above a whisper.

He swore softly in response. When he brought his feet up and dropped them on the coffee table with a loud clunk, the couch shook. She watched him run both hands through his hair several times before locking them securely behind his head. And she heard the mile-long whoosh of breath he blew out all at once. He was frustrated.

Well, so was she, but she was frightened too. Frightened by the way she responded to him. Frightened
by the way she’d needed to have him touch her, kiss her.

“Please,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t argue and make it any harder for her to leave than it already was.

Jake finally turned his head to look at her. In the aquamarine eyes staring back at him he saw passion and surprise. And confusion and wariness. Regardless of the way she’d melted against him, the way her mouth had begged for more, he’d been stupid to let things get out of control. Dammit, he should have known better.

He risked one brief look in her direction, then got to his feet, all the while wondering how dearly he would have to pay for his mistake.

Jake slid back the cuff of his pale gray dress shirt, glanced down at his watch, and swore softly. Almost six o’clock and he was still at the office. No big surprise, considering his meeting with Samuel Kennedy in San Diego had taken twice as long as he’d expected. Even so, Kennedy still hadn’t reached a decision about the changes to the third story of a building well under way. If he didn’t make up his mind soon, construction would come to a halt, and they’d be forced to push back the completion date yet another time, a situation Jake wanted to avoid at all costs.