Broken Resolutions (8 page)

She looked away, trying to distract herself from her fantasies about him on his knees again. This time, without an audience. Without clothes.

As she flicked a glance around the library, the reason for Red Tie’s off-putting winks finally dawned on her. Four men stood around her in a loose circle. She was Red Tie’s only option for a New Year’s Eve kiss, unless he either hit another party or redefined his sexuality. Eyeing him warily, she edged closer to Jack.

She was projecting television coverage of the New Year’s Eve celebration in Times Square on the wall of the library. The one-minute countdown had just started, and the ball slowly began to drop. Avoiding the eyes of all the men, she stared at the wall. Her thoughts raced. Would Jack stay after the others left? And if he did, what would she do? Had he managed to convince her to break her resolution before it even began?

She didn’t know. Ever since they’d posed together for the photo, she couldn’t sort out her thoughts. Couldn’t tell if the tension building between them was compromising her judgment and leading her to do something rash. Something that could hurt her. Something . . . hot. The image of him kneeling before her, his hands behind his back and his head pressed to her center, flashed in her mind. She fanned herself with her hand. So very hot.

Thirty seconds until midnight.

In her peripheral vision, she could see movement. Red Tie was reaching for her hand, while Cologne Guy had lifted an arm to place around her shoulders. Pretend Pirate Clarence had pulled on his eye patch, and the one eye she could see was looking her way and getting closer.

Really, her New Year’s resolution to swear off men seemed to be having some sort of paradoxical effect.

“Back off,” Jack told them, his voice rough with command.

Cologne Guy and Clarence obeyed, but Red Tie took her hand before she could pull it away.

“Julian.” Jack moved, putting his body between Red Tie and her. “Let her go. Now. Or we have a problem.”

Ten seconds.

With a muttered grumble, Red Tie released her hand.

Jack put down his champagne glass and stepped in front of her. As the crowd on the television counted down and cheered, he cupped her face with both his hands and moved closer. She was drowning in his scent, a combination of soap and something else she couldn’t identify. Something delicious. The skirt of her dress brushed his jeans, and his boots nudged her flats. If she tilted her hips upward just the tiniest bit.... Yes. She could feel the heat radiating from him. The tense muscles in his legs. The growing hardness behind his zipper.

One second.

Jack bent his head. His lips brushed against hers, soft and insistent, as his thumbs stroked the hot skin over her temples and cheekbones. She opened for him without thought, welcoming the slow sweep of his tongue over her bottom lip. Strawberries. He tasted like the strawberries on the snack table, with a hint of the chocolate that had covered the fruit. His tongue ventured further into her mouth, coaxing her own tongue to play and twine around his.

Vaguely, she could hear the cheers and singing from the Times Square celebration. With one last, lingering press of his lips against hers, Jack released her mouth. He kept her face cradled in his hands, though, and he looked down at her with an expression she’d never seen in any other man’s eyes. At least not directed at her.

Wonder. Desire. Intent. Anxiety. It was all there, shouting at her from his eyes and face. He looked determined, but also . . . vulnerable. As if he were waiting for her to hurt him.

But that made no sense. How could she hurt him? And why would she, even if she could?

A nearby throat cleared, and she jerked away from Jack. His hands fell from her face, and her cheeks suddenly felt cold, even though she knew she was blushing.

“Now seems like a good time to make my exit,” Cologne Guy said. “But you should expect to see me around the library. If things don’t work out . . .” He trailed off, and bent to kiss her cheek.

Unable to speak, she watched him give her a sad little wave and leave the library.

“Yarrrrr, it be another lonely night for this buccaneer,” Pretend Pirate Clarence said before gathering his coat and turning for the door. “But thank ye kindly for ye hospitality.”

Red Tie zipped up his parka. “Want to hit a bar, Clarence? That’s probably a better place to pick up chicks than a library, anyway.”

“Ye have a point, matey,” Clarence agreed, and the two men left together.

Then she and Jack stood alone in the library, with the sound of thousands of people singing “Auld Lang Syne” drifting around them. She fidgeted, not knowing what to do with her hands. Where to look. What to say.

“I guess I should start cleaning up this mess.” She started toward the snack table. “I’ll be here for a while, but at least I get comp time. And those free weekends, of course.”

“Penelope.” He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t stopped watching her face. The skin over his cheekbones looked taut, as if he were starving for something. For someone. “Look at me.”

She knew what he was about to say. She just didn’t know what she’d say back.

When her eyes met his, he spoke. “Have I convinced you?”

She took a shuddering breath but said nothing.

After waiting a moment, he continued. “Do you understand that there’s nothing wrong with you? Do you understand how much I want you?”

He walked right up to her, stopping only an inch away. His arms, still loose at his sides, beckoned to her. Instead of answering his questions, she wanted to collapse into those strong arms. Disappear, so that she’d never have to make this sort of decision again. Never have to decide whether to risk her heart. She wanted him to enfold her and make the choice for her.

But he wouldn’t. He wanted her to come to him of her own free will. By her own volition. Without any way for her to hide behind the excuse of seduction or coercion.

Jack stood very still before her. He asked one last question.

“I’m the man who can protect that open heart you have,” he said. “Have I convinced you?”

When she walked toward the door, moving past him, she could see his eyes close for a long moment. His fists clenched, and he exhaled deeply. His shoulders sagged.

“Okay,” he finally said, his voice defeated. “I’ll go.”

She flipped the lock and turned back to face him, leaning against the door. At that, his eyes lit. He seemed to grow taller before her eyes, and a smile spread across his face.

“I want you to stay,” she told him. “I believe you.”

8

“L
et’s go out,” Jack said. “We’ll find a restaurant that’s open and eat a real meal. We can talk and get to know each other a bit better.”

We can remove ourselves from temptation
, he mentally added.
And the scene of that photo shoot, which I can’t seem to erase from my mind.

The image of her standing above him, holding his head to the heat between her legs, had burned itself into his brain. Something about the contrast of Penelope—a quiet, small woman—controlling him in such an overtly sexual way . . . It had knocked him on his ass. Sure, he’d experimented with a little casual bondage before. But he’d always been the binder, not the one restrained. The pleasure of ceding power, even temporarily, had weakened his knees.

His legs still felt shaky, and not just because they’d recreated a risqué book cover. Everything about her shook him. The softness of her breasts against his chest. The peppermint taste of her tongue in his mouth. The sharp intelligence in her big eyes. The joy in her laugh. Simply looking at her made his heart race and his cock stir. Simply knowing they were alone, and she was nearby.

Penelope Callahan was dangerous. And from the new glint in her eye, he suspected she was beginning to realize it.

She levered herself away from the door, flipping a few switches on the wall next to her. The library suddenly stood in shadows, with only a few dim lights illuminating the two of them. “Are you sure you want to go somewhere else?” she asked. “We have lots of food left. I have to clean up, but after that, we’d have plenty of time to talk. And plenty of privacy to get to know each other better.”

His brain stuttered as she strode toward him. A generous estimate would place her height a bit above five feet. But right now, in his eyes, she loomed before him like a tidal wave nearing the shore. Like an inexorable force. Like the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life.

And, God help him, he had to resist her. Unless he was reading her wrong, she was ready and willing to spend the night with him. He wanted it, wanted her, more than anything else he could imagine. Absolutely anything . . . other than a future with her. And that’s what he’d risk by having sex with her now, before she knew his real identity and his real work. If they slept together, and she later learned he’d lied to her, she’d never forgive him. Never. He’d become just another asshole who’d used her and lied to her.

Sex wasn’t his goal for tonight. Instead, he needed to make absolutely sure she wouldn’t endanger his family’s privacy. He needed to build their emotional connection. He needed to bind her so closely to him that she couldn’t leave, not even after he confessed his lie and his fame. He needed to reveal the depth of his feelings for her, so that she’d trust his good intentions when he told her how he’d misled her. He needed to make himself vulnerable to her, in the same way she’d feel vulnerable to him when he revealed his deception.

So that meant moving them out of the quiet, secluded library as soon as possible. Before his resolve eroded and his cock took control of his body. “Yeah,” he reluctantly said, “I’m sure. We should get out of here before the roads get too ugly anyway.”

That new light in her eyes dimmed as he spoke. She stopped an inch in front of him, her brow furrowed. “Okay,” she said. “Just give me a few minutes to put things in order.”

Removing himself from the lure of her nearness, he crossed into the children’s area. “Is the cloth bag near the camera for the props?” he called out.

“Yes,” she yelled back. “Before you put them inside, though, make sure they’re not . . . um . . . dirty.”

He gave a little shudder. “Will do.”

He began dropping various items into the bag. From what he could tell, nothing seemed obviously soiled. And to be honest, he wasn’t motivated to inspect the objects that closely. The chaps, harness, whips, feather duster, black high heels, kilt, cowboy hat, police badge—he put away all of those props without hesitation. Then he saw the soft length of hemp rope snaking across a turtle-shaped chair. The rope that she’d used to bind him.

He wanted it. That rope represented one of the hottest moments in his life, the moment when he’d first seen Penelope without her guard up or reservations in her eyes. He’d seen what she could be if she would trust him and herself.

But where could he hide the damn thing? It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t see it sticking out of his pocket. For the first time in his life, he wished he owned a purse. One of those monster ones that could knock the breath out of you if it hit your midsection. He glanced around, evaluating his options. With a shrug, he coiled the rope and hid it beneath a floppy stuffed elephant perched high on a shelf, well above the reach of a young child. The moment the library reopened, he’d be waiting at the door with a backpack over his shoulders.

He’d be discreet. She didn’t need to know how much he wanted that rope. At least, not yet.

Dumping everything else into the bag, he grabbed the camera on its stand and rejoined Penelope near the circulation desk.

“Almost done,” she said, carefully removing tape from a book cover.

“Just uncovering the titles of those books we used for the game. I was impressed that you got all the books correct, by the way. I wouldn’t have thought an accountant would know cover art so well.” She stacked the books on a cart, alongside those the partygoers had used for photo inspiration and their chosen love scenes.

“I read a lot,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

“Obviously.” She rolled the cart into the workroom. “Okay, that’s about it. The rest of the food can stay out overnight. I already put the strawberries, champagne, and cheese in the refrigerator. I think we’re ready to go.”

She picked up a fluffy parka and began to thread her arms through the sleeves. He took over, holding it for her and settling it around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him.

His heart turned over in his chest. The parka dwarfed her petite frame, making her seem even smaller than she already was. She looked adorable. His arms itched with the desire to hold her, squeeze her through the inches of down and weatherproof fabric. But he held off, knowing they needed to leave the library before he did something he’d regret.

“No problem.” He searched for his own coat, finally locating it slung over a chair near the library door. “How does Sallie’s Diner sound for food?”

She shrugged, zipping up the parka. “Fine.”

“I’ll follow you to the restaurant. I want to make sure you get there safely, since the roads look ugly.”

He dug in the pocket of his coat where he usually kept his truck keys. Not there. Not in the other coat pocket, either. Turning out his jeans’ pockets, he unearthed his wallet, a plastic-wrapped mint, and a tissue. Still no keys.

“Problem?” she asked.

“I can’t find my damn keys.” Frustrated, he looked around the library, searching for somewhere he could conceivably have left them. “I just don’t know where else they could be.”

“Maybe your mom took them accidentally?” she suggested. “Do you want to call her?”

“Good idea.” He took out his cell and tapped the screen a few times. As soon as his mother answered the call, he started talking. “Hey, Mom, I was wondering—”

“This is not a good time, John McKenzie Williamson,” Brenda said, her tone stern. “I’m busy.”

“But—”

“If you’re trying to convince me not to have sex with Carl, you’re too late. He’s a speedy old devil.” Jack heard a low masculine chuckle in the background. “Good, though.
Very
good.”