Dancing Barefoot (12 page)

“What were you and
Mr. Perfect arguing about on the sidewalk?” he asked instead of answering her absurd question.

She shook her head and folded her hands in her lap.

“Ava was right. You two look good together, your kids will be stunning,” he whispered. 

"It's not like that and you know it."

“You are the worst liar I've ever known.” His mind told him to get away from her and never look back. He stayed. 

She sighed. Foot tapped in mid-air
, shoe dangled from her toes. “I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

“You think I planned on coming back and being with Marc while we were together, but you're wrong.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Believe me, don’t believe me, your choice.” Her hand touched his thigh. “But I’m not the one sleeping with a psychotic supermodel.”

He looked at her, angry words flipping through his mind, but none were spoken. There was that damn smile of hers again. “I have no idea what you and my sister are planning, but you should know that it won’t work.”

“I’m not planning anything.”

“You lie as easily as you breathe, don’t you?” It was impressive, actually, her ability to lie while looking him in the eye.
"And, no, I'm not setting you up. I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to showcase your work with mine, but I regret it now. I'll tell Miranda to let it be."

“
Ava told me that the only reason you are in the United States, the only reason you are in Boston, is me.” 

So that was it. Ava and her mouth. 

“Ava is mistaken and delusional.” He stood, needing space.  He noticed how her gaze skimmed over his body.  Territorial.  He couldn't bring himself to walk away. “Since you shared your hotdog with me, I'll buy you a drink.”

“Sounds fair.  Water, please.  And…” she smiled and craned her neck to look around him, “a bag of chips would be good, too, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind." He had almost forgotten her appetite—both for food and sex. He smiled as he walked to the stand.

When he returned to the bench,
he noticed her slipping a cell phone back into her purse.  A guilty smile flickered over her lips when she looked into his face.

“Ava? Checking on our progress?” He dropped a bag of barbeque chips into her lap. 

“Yes.” She opened the bag and laughed. “When I saw you Friday, it was so unexpected I didn’t know what to do or what to say. I’m afraid I said all the wrong things. I think we’ve done much better today.”

"Did you tell Marc you slept with your ex last Friday night?"

"Did you tell Simone?"

"I'm still living so you have your answer to that."

"She's still mean then?" She leaned the chip bag toward him, eyes alive with a challenge.

He accepted a handful of chips and watched her indulge. She savored each chip as if it were a special treat and one she would never experience again. Details.
He'd missed the details about her, about them.

With a sigh, he surrendered to the need to know her, to let the past go for a few minutes at least. He wanted to know what she did in that office building, who her friends were, what she did for fun.
He wanted new details.  

“So, J
essica, tell me about your work and your fiancé.” He smiled when she glanced at him, mouth frozen in mid-chew. 

"I don't have a
fiancée. Did Ava tell you that? She's a tricky one, no doubt." She waved a chip at him, eyes alive with light. “You're the only fiancé I've ever had.  As for architecture, I may not be a celebrated artist like you, but I have a steady paycheck.”

“Are you telling me that
you're the smart one, then?”

“That is exactly what I am saying.” She laughed and handed him the bag of chips. “Not many people know I paint. But…” she shrugged, “not many people know me like you did.”

He liked that more than he should, liked that he knew her—still—better than most. “Ava tells me that you're celebrating a promotion Wednesday night.”

“
I landed a big project last week. You're looking at the youngest associate partner in the firm's history.” She shrugged, a smile flirting with the corners of her mouth. 

“
Really?” His gaze drifted over her yellow dress and his fingers itched for his camera. With her hair caressing her chin, the late afternoon sunlight shadowing her skin and the yellow dress dancing around her knees, she'd make an excellent picture. He'd always ached to photograph her. 

“Ava's coming to the dinner with my friends tomorrow night.” Her gaze drifted over his face. “I know you wouldn’t want to come.”

“Of course not.” 
Ask me
.

“When is Simone coming into town?”

“Are you anxious to see her?” He laughed when her face twisted with disgust.  “Friday. She'll be at the exhibit.”

She nodded, gaze moving over his chest. He liked the way she looked at him, as if appraising her property. 

“I think we're actually getting along,” he said with surprise. 

“Why is that surprising to you? We got along the instant we met, remember?”  Once again, she relaxed against the back of the bench. 

“When we first met, you knocked me down a flight of stairs with your luggage because you were too stubborn to take help when it was offered.” He shifted his hips on the bench so that they faced each other. “That was not exactly getting along.”

“
You like bringing that up. It really wasn't that serious. I'm the one who ended up with the bloody nose and you gave me your shirt. As soon as I saw you half-naked, I knew I needed to see the whole package.” She laughed again, the sound soothing to him.

“I knew we would be together the moment the luggage hit my legs.” Shared memories, unspoken yet vivid, danced in the air between them. “
I'm going to the Amazon.” He didn’t know why he said that, a test maybe, to gauge her reaction. 

Her eyes flickered for an instant as if the wheels of her mind had kicked into high gear. “Sounds
adventurous. What's the project?"

“
We're filming the so-called lost tribes of the Amazon, those villages that have been untouched by the rest of the world. We need to have permission to visit, health tests to make sure we don't contaminate them with any virus that could threaten their entire population. I leave in a month, don't plan on returning to the States for a long time.” He brushed a crumb from her chin, lingered, locked his gaze on her mouth, remembered the other night with their skin streaked with paint.

Yes, coming to Boston had been a mistake.

"Will it be safe for you? They won't hurt you?"

He dragged his gaze from her mouth to her eyes and shook his head 'no.'

"Good. I want you to come back in one piece." She arched an eyebrow, desire flickering in the depths of her eyes. "I'm a little territorial of that package of yours."

He squinted. "What makes you think you have the right to be territorial over anything of mine?"

"You and I both know the answer to that."

“Walk with me.” She stood
, abruptly breaking contact. 

He watched her smooth the creases of her dress over her hips.
He swallowed the words that ached to be said. This woman had brought him to his knees once before and he wouldn't allow it again.

“Simone wasn’t too happy when she found out
that I saw you the other night," he said.

“Were you punished?” She sounded so much like the woman he remembered that he couldn’t resist laughing. 

“Are you flirting with me?” He liked that idea more than he should.

“If you have to ask, then I must be doing something wrong.”

He grabbed her arm and stopped her in mid-stride. “Why? Why flirt with me? You have your Marc, I am with Simone. The other night was just us...being caught up in the past. What's happening here? What do you want?”

After what seemed like minutes, she lifted her eyes to his. “What would you say if I said I wanted you
back?”

He dropped his hand from her arm. “I would say no.”

“Would you?” She resumed walking and he fell into step beside her. “Well, I had to ask.”

He smiled and squinted toward the sky. “Was that your intervention?”

“We’re not done, you and me. If Simone is my competition, then I don’t have much to worry about, do I?”

A laugh burst from
his lips, but not the funny ha-ha kind, definitely the are-you-out–of-your-mind kind. He grabbed her elbow and stopped her.

“Are you serious?  What do you want? An affair?” He was a gambling man.  Before she could answer, he pulled her beneath the shade of a nearby tree
, pressed her back against the bark, and leaned his forearm above her head. “Maybe I should have stayed the other night, made love with you again and again until we had each other out of our systems."

She licked her bottom lip. “What makes you think
we would have gotten each other out of our systems?”

All common sense told him to walk away now before he made a mistake.  This was Jessica Moriarty, the woman he had tried to forget, failed to forget. And she
stood a fraction away, blue eyes full of dares, and body warm against his. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said, arms firmly at her sides. “History repeating itself, right?”

“Something like that.” 

“
Let's go on a date. Right now, you and me. No history, just two people on a first date. You can charm me. I dare you.” 

"A date?" He leaned against her, wanting to be inside her. "
We're with other people, we can't date."

"
I am with no one. You have the wrong idea." She slid her fingertips beneath the hem of his t-shirt and skimmed his lower abdomen.

"Is that how you ask for a date? You dare a man to charm you? Is that usually effective?"

"It is with you." She stood on her tiptoes and dipped her fingers into the front of his jeans. "You have never turned down a dare."

"I've changed. Dares do not phase me at all." He pressed his hips into hers, willing to see how far she would go in broad daylight only blocks from her office. "I am committed to Simone."

"Like hell you are." The tip of her tongue flicked over his mouth.

"I." He kissed her lightly. "Will." He slid his mouth from her lips to the line of her jaw. "Never." His tongue flicked over her earlobe. "Date you."

Somehow she'd kicked off the high heel and now her barefoot slid up the side of his lower leg. "Yes, you will."

He laughed at her audacity, relieved to see that fire in her eyes. "It is good to know you have big dreams, Jess."

"Ava said you'd make Boston your home base if only I asked." She moved her hand over the tip of his erection and grinned with satisfaction. "I know there's a lot of heartache here, that you don't trust me, but the way I see it, you're worth me making a fool of myself over."

He couldn't believe
her, even though he wanted to very much. He'd given back the ring, said all he had to say, had vowed to erase her from his heart. The gallery idea with Miranda had slipped from his lips without conscious intent. Looking at her now, he knew it would be too risky to let her close.

"And then what? I leave for
South America, you have a fit about me wandering off, we break up again? Is that how this will play out?"

"Technically, we never broke up," she whispered, gaze intent on his. "We never had a fight, I still wore the ring, so did you."

"You're confusing me and I don't like it." His dropped his forehead against hers and tried desperately to reign in his desire.

"If you don't want a date, then let's go back to my place, lock the door and see what happens."

"You know what would happen." He grabbed her wrists and made her stop touching him. "What are you really asking me, Jess?"

"I want..." 

"What do you want?"

"Us."

“No.” 

“Yes.”

“You're ashamed of me, of what we were to one another. Didn’t you say that last week? Yes, you said you don’t talk about Italy to anyone here.” He knew it was the truth when her eyes darted away from him. “You don’t want anyone here to know about our affair. You don’t want your lover to get upset—”

“You have the wrong idea about Marc. He—
”

“Stop lying.
Is it even possible for you to stop?” He pressed his thigh between hers, pushing her tighter against the bark of the tree. “You two are lovers. Deny it.”


She dropped her head against
tree trunk and stared at him. “It’s complicated.”

“Of course it is.
Nothing with you is simple. Come back to my hotel with me. Right now. Intervene.”

"You think I won't, but I will."
Her lips trembled, eyes searched his.