A Very Daring Christmas (The Tavonesi Series Book 8) (10 page)

Cameron rose from the bench. Jake’s eyes followed the pathway of her hands as she smoothed her dress and tugged it down to the middle of her thighs. Her hips were at eye level, and he couldn’t look away. He did manage to keep from wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her in to kiss the thin fabric barely covering her taut belly. And lower.

God, he shouldn’t want her this much.

When she wiggled her hips and held out her hand, he was sure the heavens were taunting him. Or she was.

“Food?” Her eyes sparkled in the dim light.

“Sure.” He was hungry. But food was the last thing on his mind.

A night of dancing was at the top of Cameron’s list of true fun. And getting away from the usual Hollywood club scene was a bonus. People were here to enjoy themselves, not to pose or rub shoulders with contacts who could advance their careers.

The only fly in the honey of her evening was Jake. She’d told herself that she was overblowing her reactions to him, that the fascination snaking its way into her at their every interaction was controllable, manageable. But his deadly combination of sexy charm, irresistible physique and intriguing Southern manners had her caution flags waving. The problem was, she didn’t want to put on the brakes.

Though she wasn’t really hungry, she hoped that food might settle the shimmying flutter in her stomach. Jake stayed close by her side as they edged along the crowded dance floor and made their way to a food station at the side of the club. She lifted the lid of a shiny metal warmer, and the aroma of peppers and spices wafted up.

“I may not leave this spot the entire evening,” she said as she scooped the seasoned rice and vegetables onto a plate. She forked a mouthful and moaned as the flavors of cumin, oregano and tomatoes burst in her mouth. “You have to try this. It’s divine.”

Jake was staring at her, the corners of his mouth tipping up. “If it gets that reaction from you, I can’t turn it down. Tasting is one of the greatest pleasures.”

Simple words. And he was talking about the food. But she felt caressed by his words, his voice. Teased. Or was she acting like one of those fortune-telling machines, the ones where you write on a slip of paper, feed it into the slot and then the machine spits out exactly what you would want to hear?

She’d be lying if she didn’t admit, at least to herself, that she wanted a taste of Jake. Could she keep it easy, simple? An evening, maybe two? If his reputation as a playboy held true, he’d be moving on anyway. And after all, she’d learned her lesson with Elliott: keep her heart buttoned up until the right man came along. But waiting for Mr. Right didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun in the meantime.

She scooped a forkful of rice and held it out to Jake.

His eyes narrowed, and she shivered with the intensity of his smoldering gaze.

“You’re playing with fire, Miss Kelley.”

His words rumbled through her. Yes, yes, she was.

And the fire continued to lick at her from the inside out as they danced until nearly midnight. He appeared disappointed when she told him she had to get home, but he honored her request to call it an early night.

After their sensual contact on the dance floor, the light kiss he placed on her lips when he walked her to her car in the club’s parking lot was delicious but disappointing.

Jake insisted on following her home. Even driving she felt the connection between them as she occasionally glanced back and saw his headlights in her rearview mirror.

She breathed a sigh of relief to find the street in front of her townhouse empty of cars. Privacy from the prying eyes of the paparazzi was a gift she hadn’t dared to hope for. He opened the door to her SUV, offered his hand to help her out and walked her to her door.

She fumbled her keys out of her purse. He caught them in midair before they hit the paving stones of her front porch.

Fast.

So fast.

Being around him was like entering some sort of life-altering portal at warp speed—like walking through a mirror into a foreign land. He wasn’t from the world she knew. And it wasn’t just his speed or the way he moved or the fact that he’d grown up in another part of the country. Whether he intended to or not, Jake called to a place in her soul that she knew was important. More important than she wanted to admit. A place mysterious and scary. She’d be a fool to think she could have a taste, a fling, and then walk away from such a man. Already her mind was fighting to make sense of the messages darting through her body, trying to find balance, trying to reboot to the status quo. But her attempt to get a handle on her urges and emotions wasn’t working.

He held out her keys. Her hand touched his. He wrapped his fingers around hers and drew her in.

She opened her mouth to the light sweep of his tongue. He growled her name into the kiss. The want laced through his voice made her knees go rubbery and heat fire in her belly. When he held her tight against him and cupped the back of her neck to deepen the kiss, she was glad for the solid door behind her, stabilizing her and keeping her upright.

When he broke off the kiss, she felt as though someone had thrown a blanket over the sun.

“I’d like to see you tomorrow,” he murmured.

She shivered when he stroked a curl of hair away from her cheek. His breath was as ragged as hers.

Part of her screamed,
Why wait for tomorrow?
But she’d learned not to make rash decisions late in the night. Having Jake spend the night would be more than rash. If she was going to take the dive, she’d better think about the repercussions in broad daylight before she made a move.

“I have a meeting with my director tomorrow morning—a film that goes into production after the first of the year. But I might be able to get together later in the day.”

Jeez, they weren’t in high school. So why did she feel so awkward?

“I can wait.”

His tone was even, controlled. He probably had experiences like this all the time. And maybe she wasn’t as worldly as she’d thought.

Light of day
.

She’d sleep on her dilemma—and on the urges pressing at her—and then make a decision. But already she knew what she wanted.

“I’ll call you.” She fought for a steady breath. Barely hauled one in. “I have an idea for something we might do together. I have a few details to iron out first, but I think you’ll like it.”

“I like ideas.”

He stroked his hand along the curve of her waist. They’d danced, swirled and pressed hip to hip for hours at the club. But his gentle touch branded through her dress, sending shock waves of desire, more moving than any gyration on the dance floor, zinging through her. Suddenly,
careful
was a word shoved to the far reaches of her vocabulary. The light of day wasn’t going to make one bit of difference to her plan.

Chapter Eight

Jake pawed his ringing cellphone. Cameron’s number danced across the screen. Nine a.m. He never slept late, but what a night. They’d danced till nearly midnight. He stretched out in his bed and palmed the phone against his ear. His body ached, and not just from dancing. It had taken every iota of restraint not to pick Cameron up and carry her into her apartment and kiss her until she knew the pleasure her body was made for.

“Want to get a head start on your surfing career?”

“Pardon?” His brain cells were firing slower than usual. It’d been a long time since he’d danced like that. And since he’d ached for a woman as he did her. No private one-handed release was going to ease the desire she roused.

“I have a cottage about an hour from here,” she said. “On a private cove. There will be good waves this weekend. Strong but not too big.”

“Think I’m not ready for the big boys?”

She laughed. “I know I’m not.”

“Is dinner included?”

She laughed again, but this time it came out more like a purr. “Okay, dinner. But only because I owe you one.”

Her purring reminder that she owed him was a good sign. He wrote down the address she gave him and agreed to meet her at three that afternoon.

She never let him drive her, which seemed odd. But it was actually fine with him. He liked having his own wheels.

A cottage, she’d said. Cottages had beds, last he knew. He’d dreamed of her. Or had it been a waking fantasy? Either way, a bed would be a good place to continue the sensual journey he had in mind. He’d enjoy showing Cameron pleasure. She struck him as a woman who hadn’t been treated to the hidden delights of truly great sex. Just a hunch. But his hunches about women were usually on target.

Driving down on his own would make it possible to keep to sacrosanct rule number one: never spend the night. Spending intimate time sleeping with a woman always sent the wrong message; he’d learned that one the hard way. And rule number two, never more than three dates? That rule had served him and the women he’d dated. In fact, the main function of the first date was to make sure the women he had fun with were on the same wavelength that he was before they took things into the physical realm. That way, no broken hearts and no messy endings.

But this would be date number three for him and Cameron. Unless he didn’t count the picnic. Maybe he wouldn’t count the picnic. That hadn’t really been a date.

A quick call to his agent to reschedule his afternoon appointments was a breeze. Tony wanted an afternoon of golf anyway. Jake liked the win-win.

He shoved his board shorts into a gear bag and slung it over his shoulder.

His body begged for caffeine. At the coffee shop down the street from the hotel, he ordered a triple espresso. While waiting, he scanned the headlines of newspapers scattered on the long wooden table in the middle of the coffee shop. A corner of a tabloid magazine showed under the edge of the piled papers. He’d never read one. He slipped it free from the stack.

And cursed.

The front cover featured a full-color photo of him kissing Cameron. It had been taken from somewhere in front of her place just hours ago. His gut knotted as he read the headline:
Lighting up the Night—Will Cameron Kelley heal her heart with All-Star Jake Ryder?

Hell. Just hell.

In one gulp he downed the espresso the barista handed him, and then he called Cameron.

“Having a change of heart already?” she said with a teasing tone.

“Did you see
Star Weekly
magazine?”

“I try to never look at those, Jake.”

He told her about the cover. “How can they get something into print that fast?”

“It’s a downside of digital technology and rapid distribution. But if it makes you feel any better, it’s probably only on the regional covers.” She paused. “I’m so sorry. I thought... Well, I should’ve been more careful.”

He
should’ve been more careful. Her world was one in which he didn’t know the rules. Or the dangers. Just the thought of some lowlife hiding in the bushes watching Cameron through a long lens made his skin crawl.

“Bloodhounds,” Jake said with the vehemence of a curse. “No, not bloodhounds. I happen to love bloodhounds.”

“Sleazeballs is my preferred term.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her frankness.

“You still want to come down to the cottage? I can promise you there won’t be any of those jerks down there. It’s the one place I’m able to let my hair down.”

The image of Cameron letting loose trumped any concerns Jake had about paparazzi. He’d survived the sports press for years—he’d survive one tabloid cover. But still, the invasion of privacy had stung. He treasured his privacy. And cared about hers. Any private anything with Cameron in the future would happen behind closed doors.

Cameron adjusted the lace-like purple flowers in the vase on the small table in her cottage for the second time. She had already fluffed the pillows on the small couch under the windows facing the side garden more times than she wanted to admit. Her nerves sawed away as she paced the living room, drawing the knot in her stomach tighter. What had she been thinking, inviting Jake to come down for the afternoon? And for dinner? In the two years she’d dated Elliott, she’d never once let him come to her place in Laguna Beach. The piece of heaven she’d inherited from her grandmother was her only sanctuary.