Authors: Julia London
American Diva (16 page)
So hot that she felt like an awkward sixteen-year-old and weak at the knees.
Jack, on the other hand, looked completely composed—and annoyed. “Audrey,” he drawled in that wonderfully low voice, “do you speak English?”
That certainly snapped her out of any stupidly awkward feelings she was having. “Yes. Do you?”
“I think I was speaking English when I told you that I would send Bucky to take you shopping.”
“I don’t know Bucky,” she said irritably. Somewhere behind her, she heard a door open. The last thing she wanted was for someone on the tour to see her hovering around Jack’s room, and she suddenly moved forward, brushing past Jack—and making contact with bare, damp skin.
She dropped her bag on the end of his bed. Bruno hopped out and began to inspect the bedspread as Audrey faced Jack.
He was still standing at the open door, looking completely baffled. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “And please get that thing off my bed.”
“I am waiting for you. I want to go shopping. Down, Bruno.”
Bruno hopped to the floor.
“Audrey, I—”
“Do you think you could shut the door?” she asked, gesturing to the door. “I don’t think everyone needs to hear you try and weasel your way out of your job.”
He frowned, but let the door swing closed. He put his hands on a pair of trim hips. “I am not
weaseling
out of anything.” He nudged Bruno away from his foot.
weaseling
out of anything.” He nudged Bruno away from his foot.
“Look,” Audrey said, reverting to the person Lucas had taught her to be. “I want to go shopping. I am not asking you to carry my bags or try anything on, I just need someone to go with me, obviously, since some maniac wants me dead, and as I am paying you to protect me, it seems perfectly reasonable for you to accompany me. I
expect
you to accompany me. What’s so hard to understand?”
expect
you to accompany me. What’s so hard to understand?”
“What’s so hard to understand about Bucky? He’s part of the team.”
“Like I said, I don’t know Bucky.” She sat hard on the edge of Jack’s bed. “Unfortunately, I only know you.”
“But you would know Bucky if you allowed him to come along. He’s a great guy.”
“Don’t care,” she said stubbornly, and crossed her legs as she idly studied a nail. “Can you hurry it up? I need to make this quick.”
He sighed. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go. But I’m making a couple of rules.”
She snorted.
“First,” he said, ignoring her snort, “If you want me to do something for you, ask me nicely. I do not respond well to being ordered.”
“I didn’t—”
“And second,” he said, walking over to the bed where she was sitting to tower above her, “No kissing. Do
not
kiss me.”
not
kiss me.”
Audrey’s heart instantly started pounding at just the suggestion of a kiss. “Don’t worry. I am
so
not going to kiss you,” she muttered.
so
not going to kiss you,” she muttered.
“Good,” he said, and suddenly leaned over, caught her chin in his hand, and forced her to look up into his crystalline blue eyes. “Because if you kiss me again, I am going to lay you down wherever we are and fuck you like you need and want to be fucked.”
Audrey’s insides melted. She looked at his chest, his broad shoulders, the soft down that tapered to a line that disappeared into his towel. “What’s the matter, big guy,” she asked breathlessly. “Can’t control your urges?”
With a chuckle, he gazed at her mouth, and she felt dampness between her legs. “Not when I’m provoked and kissing a good-looking woman, no,” he said, and traced the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. Audrey melted a little more. But he let go, straightened up, and walked into the bathroom.
She released her breath and covered her face with her hands a moment. “
Kiss
you?” she called after him. “Are you insane? I told you, that was just stress or something. I am
not
going to kiss you!”
Kiss
you?” she called after him. “Are you insane? I told you, that was just stress or something. I am
not
going to kiss you!”
Either he didn’t hear her, or he didn’t deign to respond—she heard nothing but the sound of stuff being moved around. She leaned forward, bending at the waist, hoping to see inside the bathroom, but couldn’t.
She sat back up and picked absently at the spread as several confusing and uncharacteristic thoughts jumbled her mind. Bruno hopped up beside her and sat by her hand.
Just what was so bad about a stupid kiss, anyway? Okay, besides the obvious—she was the boss, he was the employee, she had a boyfriend, he had a . . . she didn’t know what he had and didn’t care. “No sir, you don’t have to worry about me,” she muttered, and leaned forward again, trying to see him in the reflection of the mirror.
He stepped out of the bathroom so suddenly that she jumped. He smiled a little at her obvious surprise as he walked to his bag on a chair and pulled out some boxer briefs.
With a wink, he reached for the towel at his waist.
Audrey quickly looked the other way as her pulse picked up another notch.
“There’s one more thing,” Jack said casually as he presumably dressed. “I don’t like to shop. You might say I
hate
to shop. So whatever it is you want, we’re going in, we’re getting it, and we’re out of there.”
hate
to shop. So whatever it is you want, we’re going in, we’re getting it, and we’re out of there.”
“I don’t think you get to decide that.”
“I have a lot to do, Audrey. I really don’t have time to baby-sit.”
“Baby-sit!” she exclaimed, whipping around, and just as quickly turning away again as he was standing in his boxer briefs like he’d just walked out of an underwear ad.
“Baby-sit,” he said again.
She heard him digging through his bag. A moment later, he walked past her, wearing a pair of unbuttoned jeans and leaving a waft of cologne in his wake.
“I have a legitimate need for security,” she said, starting to get a little miffed as he shrugged into a crisp, white shirt. “What makes you think I don’t have a lot to do, too? It’s not like I have a lot of time to shop, but I need some shoes, so I am going to go and get them. In and out.”
Jack snorted.
“What?” she demanded.
He suddenly grinned. Her pulse jumped to a full staccato.
“I have yet to find a woman who is in and out,” he said. “And I’d be willing to bet dinner that
you
, of all women, can’t do it.”
you
, of all women, can’t do it.”
She put aside the image of him shopping with a variety of women to say, “That is a very sexist statement, Muscle Man. You must be hanging out with high-maintenance princesses.
Some
women have a lot more to do than spend your money.”
Some
women have a lot more to do than spend your money.”
“So is it a bet or not?”
“Absolutely!” she said confidently.
“Good. You shop for anything besides shoes, then dinner is on your considerable nickel, sweet cheeks,” he said, and blithely tucked the tails of his shirt into his open pants. “If you go in and get your shoes and get out of there, it’s on me. Deal?” he asked, punctuating his challenge by zipping up his pants.
“Deal,” she said. It would be steak. She could definitely do with a little red meat.
“Come on, let’s go,” she said and stood, headed for the door.
“Not so fast.”
Audrey paused and glanced over her shoulder.
“First, ask me nicely if I am ready.”
“Oh for God’s sake. Are you ready, Jack?”
“Almost. And you aren’t going out like that.”
She glanced down, confused. She was wearing a low-slung linen skirt, a spaghetti strap camisole, and some slinky kitten-heeled sandals. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”
“Not . . . a damn thing,” he said as his gaze raked over her. “But you need a hat and some shades. Didn’t Genius teach you anything about moving around
incognito
?”
incognito
?”
Audrey reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of Chanel shades and shoved them onto her face, knowing they covered most of it. “Will this do? I don’t have a hat.”
He sighed and gestured to her hair. “We’re going to have to do something with that,” he said. “Try and put it up,” he added as he walked around to his bag. He rummaged inside and produced a New York Mets baseball hat, which he held up for her to see.
“The Mets?” she said, peering at it. “I thought a good ol’ Texas boy went for the Rangers or the Astros.”
“A good ol’ Texas boy does, unless his brother plays for the Mets.”
Audrey made a sound of surprised delight. “Your brother plays for the
Mets
? I
love
baseball! I can’t believe it. Ohmigod, is it Parker Price?”
Mets
? I
love
baseball! I can’t believe it. Ohmigod, is it Parker Price?”
He stuffed the hat on her head. “It’s Parker all right. What’s that look? You thought the Price boys couldn’t play a little ball?”
Audrey smiled wryly, took the hat off her head, and handed it to him. “I’m not surprised the Price boys can play ball. I’m just surprised one of them is playing for the Mets,” she said as she put her hair up in a ponytail.
“Play your cards right, and I might take you to see a game sometime.”
He said it as if they had known each other for ages instead of only days. Audrey stilled only slightly, but it was enough for Jack to notice. “I’ll get you tickets,” he amended himself, and thrust the cap at her again.
She took it, threaded her hair through the hole in the back, and fit the cap on her head, tucking up curls of blond beneath it. When she’d finished, she turned around for Jack’s inspection.
He let his gaze drift over her, long and slow, and nodded. “You’ll do.”
Audrey laughed. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Uh-uh,” he said.
“What now?”
He frowned playfully. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked, and looked meaningfully at Bruno, sitting at her feet, peering up at her.
“Oh my goodness. Bruno!” She scooped him up and put him in her bag. “
Now
if you are ready, I will show you how a
real
woman shops.”
Now
if you are ready, I will show you how a
real
woman shops.”
A pained look came over Jack’s handsome face. He sighed, pressed his lips together, and nodded.
Audrey couldn’t help laughing.
Twelve
In
the third shoe store and the sixth chair he’d occupied since this “in-and-out” shopping had begun, Jack shifted the packages on his lap: two pairs of shoes, three blouses—at least he thought they were blouses—and the enormous bag in which Bruno was patiently awaiting his next outing.
the third shoe store and the sixth chair he’d occupied since this “in-and-out” shopping had begun, Jack shifted the packages on his lap: two pairs of shoes, three blouses—at least he thought they were blouses—and the enormous bag in which Bruno was patiently awaiting his next outing.
Jack had decided in the first shop that if women ever ruled the world, they would do well to torture male terrorists into talking in just this way. There was absolutely nothing more painful than watching a woman pick through racks of clothes or shoes, particularly if they held up each article of clothing that caught their eye, and asked, “What do you think? Too pink?”
Was there such a thing as too pink? Wasn’t pink just pink?
Jack was staring at the shoes on the wall (Why did shoes have names? Did shoemakers really believe women walked into establishments such as this and ask for the
Maria
or the
Bethany
?) when Audrey cleared her throat in a loud and obtrusive manner.
Maria
or the
Bethany
?) when Audrey cleared her throat in a loud and obtrusive manner.
He turned his head to the right—and almost dropped his packages. She was standing before him, her legs planted apart, her linen skirt gathered even higher above her knee. On one leg, she wore a dark red leather, over-the-knee, stiletto boot. On the other foot, she wore the spikiest, reddest, badass stiletto sandal he’d ever seen on a woman.
She bent slightly at the waist and looked at the shoes, then straightened and looked at Jack, her expression very serious. “Which one?”
Was she
kidding
? Both shoes made him want to drink heavily—he couldn’t take his eyes from her legs.
kidding
? Both shoes made him want to drink heavily—he couldn’t take his eyes from her legs.
“So?” she asked in a low voice. “Which do you think?”
Which did he think what? They were both killer. He wanted to put her on her back right there, in the middle of this fancy little shoe store, and have her wrap those shoes around his back.
She shifted her weight to one hip and waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she turned the foot encased in the stiletto sandal, and with a sexy smile, she asked, “Which do you think would do best on stage?” She slid that leg a little closer to him. “The sandals?” She turned again, sliding the leg in the boot toward him. “Or the boots?”
Jack swallowed down a lump of intense lust and lifted his gaze to hers. “I don’t know which would do best,” he said sincerely, “but personally, I think I prefer the boots.”
She smiled seductively. “Aha . . . a
boot
man.”
boot
man.”
“Did either of those work for you?” a woman suddenly trilled, her voice slicing across the moment. Jack suppressed a groan as the saleswoman appeared between him and Audrey. “Oh my,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Those are lovely.”
“Which do you think?” Audrey asked.
“It depends on what event you’re shopping for,” the saleswoman said, boggling Jack’s mind even further that she could break this sale down to a single event.
Audrey leaned around her and smiled pertly at Jack. “I think I’ll take them both,” she said, and turned, waltzing like she was on a runway across the store to where she’d left her shoes.
The saleslady chuckled. “She has the legs for either style.” She glanced at Jack. “I can tell that you are a veteran of shopping with your wife.”
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