Five Alarm Lust (2 page)

“You don’t drink much, do you?” Deep, the whiskey-smooth baritone danced along her nerves, setting them aflame.

“No, I don’t.” Gilli wiggled in her seat. Her shoulders hunched as she sucked at the strong concoction in her glass. Her stomach twisted with each swallow. Tomorrow she’d pay for drinking, but tonight it was the only thing making the evening bearable. A shiver danced over her and she exhaled. Would it be too much to ask for the floor to swallow her whole?

“You should slow down on that, it’s pretty strong.”

Why was he talking to her? There wasn’t any logical reason to speak to her. Men didn’t talk to her except to ask what bone went where on the skeleton of a stegosaurus. Unless… Her stomach twisted at the stray, unwelcome thought settling like a lead weight. Had her mother asked him to?

“I’m Jack.”

“Gillian.” She held out her free hand in the direction of the voice. His warm laughter preceded his calloused palm as he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” If he picked up on the sarcasm, his grip didn’t show it.

“Pleasure’s all mine, only woman here not gyrating like a wannabe belly dancer—which is so wrong when you’re listening to ACDC.” Firm, dry, his hand pumped hers up and down. His thumb rubbed along her knuckles absently, the gentle caress reaching through to her center. “So, what happened to your glasses?”

Gilli set her empty glass on the table and reached in vain for the largest object on the table, hoping it was the bottle of whatever she was drinking. “My glasses?”

“You had glasses on at the church, but I don’t see them anywhere. Did you lose them?” His voice dropped, the warmth of his breath ghosting over her skin. The taffeta of her dress slipped along the chair as she moved away from him. She debated getting up but brushed aside the instinctual desire. They were in a public place and she’d sat down first.

“In a manner of speaking.” Gilli sighed, slouching forward even farther.
Why is he still talking to me?
What could he possibly want with me? Unless he’s desperate, and hey, then it wouldn’t be so bad. A quick tumble and I’m good for another few years. It’s not like I need sex, but Hillary says it’s healthy…

“Oh?”

Gilli shook her head, there was no way she was sharing this humiliation with a stranger. Why couldn’t her mother have left her glasses alone? Why was she sitting at a reception dressed in pale purple and yellow, blind, alone, and ignored for the most part?

“So, you’re a friend of the bride?” His voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Daughter. Unfortunately for me … and you it would seem since you’re here stuck talking to me.” Gillian squinted at the table, leaning forward in the vain hope of finding the alcohol. A dart of something slid under her skin when she recognized the blurred shape of what appeared to be an umbrella. It wasn’t
her
drink, but what the hey, didn’t matter. As long as there was something in there strong enough to drown out the need to retch she’d be happy. She touched the glass, moved it slightly, and breathed a long sigh of relief.
Finally!
Taking a long sip, she shivered.
If it takes me all night, when I get Mother’s purse I’m going to steal my glasses and catch the first flight home.

“Really? Uh, your um…”

“Believe me, this isn’t my idea of fun. This is one step below the Spanish Inquisition for torture. As well the woman knows; she just refuses to allow anyone to ruin her day.” The old resentment a bitter weight on her tongue, she wondered again why Barbara would want her around. “I’d rather be at a dig or the library or something. To be honest, anything is preferable to being stuck in this Gong Show. Don’t get me wrong, I love weddings, they’re great, fun; it’s just attending hers I despise. So, what brings you here?”

“Are you an archeologist?”

“Historian. I’ve spent years learning all about history—specifically Canadian history, pre-white settlers. At the moment I work for a movie company. They’re making an epic historical drama, and I’m the consultant they hired—or rather the museum loaned out. Then when I go home I’m going back to work. The new semester is starting soon, keeps me busy.” Gillian shrugged. “How’d you get roped into my mother’s wild plans?”

“Ah, you noticed my less than subtle dodge, huh? I’m a friend of the groom’s. He’s my captain at the fire hall.” A figure moved between them, setting something with ice in it on the table before vanishing.

Gillian nodded.
Typical
. Why couldn’t he be something she could hate? Snickering at herself, she reached for the glass on the table.
Even geeks can be asses, Gilli, just look at Mike.
Fear and revulsion slithered down her spine at the memory.
No, don’t look at that example. Better not to think of it,
she told herself, her fingers catching the edge of a glass.

“Watch it, you’re going to…” His warning came seconds too late.

Chapter 2

Gillian stifled a shriek as the icy liquid spread across the front of her dress. She stumbled to her feet, knocking her knee against the table. The clatter of glasses and cutlery banging terrified her. “Oh no!” Thankfully, nothing hit the floor, and she breathed a soft sigh of relief that was short-lived. If her mother found out,
oh God, I’m dead.

“…Spill your drink.” He pressed a napkin into her hand, his touch firm, commanding. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I can do this by myself…” Gilli tensed. Fear prickled at the thought of having a man helping her, touching her. In her experience nothing good ever came of their touch, and she wasn’t in any shape to make an escape—even an undignified one.

“How? You able to see your way to the ladies room?” Jack wrapped an arm around her waist and nudged her forward. “Come on, I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

“Get my glasses from the witch in white and I’ll be grateful.” Gilli winced, her ankles wobbling as she stumbled, sending a sharp throbbing pain up her leg. Why would anyone who knew her expect her to be able to wear four inch heels?

“Here we go.” Jack tightened his grip for a second. “I’ll wait right here—if you need help…”

“I won’t.” Gilli pushed on the door. Stepping into the quiet of the restroom, she inched her way to the sink. The counter edge bit into her palm as she leaned against it, fumbling with the straps to get her shoes off before she dropped them on the floor. The cold of the tiles seeped into her feet, relieving the ache in her arches. “I hate heels, I hate dresses that make me look like an escapee from the Easter Parade, and I hate my mother. Really, why on earth would she even dream I’d like this?” With a shaking hand, she blotted at the stain on her dress. Gilli shook her head. “I can’t see a damn thing and she knows it…”

“Why?” Jack’s voice behind her drew a startled yelp. Her arms flailing about, Gilli found herself pressed against his hard body. Whether it was fear or something else that got her pulse racing, Gillian wasn’t sure, nor did she relish the idea of uncovering the truth. Both were familiar and as welcome as razor burn on her bikini line.

“Why what?”

“Why can’t you see?”

“I have congenital glaucoma.” Gilli straightened, her body swaying. She shivered at the prickles of heat along her bare skin.
What is it about this guy that gets me hot?
Think, girl. Remember, you’re an ice queen, frigid without an ounce of sexual ability
—
he’s not going to even see you as a woman. Control the need. What you need is a cold shower. Control, Gillian, control.
“I need my glasses.”

“Here.” Jack pressed something into her hand.

Unfolding the glasses, Gilli slipped them into place, and then blinked a couple of times to clear her vision. When she did, she gasped. Her Adonis stood before her, his tuxedo jacket gone, white shirt stained with pink streaks, and his hair askew. “On my gods.” Her hands flew to her face and she gaped at him. “I am so sorry, look at your shirt. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning. I can’t believe I managed to ruin your shirt. How clumsy of me. I promise, I will pay for cleaning it.”

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I’ve seen worse. You okay? Too much to drink?”

“No.” Gilli inched across the floor, embarrassment flooding her. This would teach her. “I don’t drink … well, under normal circumstances. I’ve only had two or three drinks tonight—which is more than I ever do.” A grimace of distaste on her lips, she tucked her feet back into her shoes and straightened.

He changed the subject, seeming to catch on she didn’t want to talk about it. “Without your glasses you’re blind, so why did your—?” He wrapped his coat around her shoulders, ushering her toward the bank of elevators down the hall and away from the party.

“Doesn’t matter.” Gilli accepted her mother’s faults with familiar ease. Barbara Cassidy had long since ceased to be a puzzle to her. There was one priority in the woman’s life and it started and ended with herself. For her to consider anyone beyond herself would mean she had more than ice water and greed running through her veins.

“You can use my room to get cleaned up. If I remember, you were in your mother’s spare bedroom, which just happens to be the honeymoon suite.” He summoned the elevator, a quick grin on his face.

Gilli flushed and stepped into the elevator. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned against the railing. Thick and heavy, the silence that settled over the small room was enough to choke her. Nervous, her fingers twisted the narrow ribbon on her bodice while she watched the lights flicker over the floor numbers. When the elevator pinged, she hobbled into the carpeted hallway.

“This way.”

Gilli stumbled along behind him, her mind racing as she wondered how she’d gotten into this position. Why couldn’t she ever say no to her mother? More to the point, why couldn’t her mother act her age and grow up? Weren’t six husbands enough? She didn’t need a seventh.

“Come on in, you can use the bathrobe while your dress dries,” Jack offered.

Ducking past him, Gilli surveyed the room. A massive king-size bed peeked from the open door of the bedroom. A high bar separated the living area from the kitchenette, and another door was ajar. It didn’t take long for her to determine it to be the washroom. Gilli froze when Jack slipped into the adjoining room, already unbuttoning his shirt.

“If you want a shower, it’s in here,” Jack called from the bedroom. “The robe’s hanging on the back of my door, but I’ll only be a minute. Do you want me to call room service and see if they can get your dress dry cleaned for you?” Jack appeared a moment later, shirt hanging open, his muscled chest flexing with each sweep of his arms.

“No, that’s okay. Mom rented it—so she can have it cleaned before it goes back.” Gillian eased past him, a weak smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “I’ll just rinse it out though, if you don’t mind.”

Jack strode from the bedroom, his shirt unbuttoned, pants hanging from toned hips. He smiled at her and ducked behind the bar. “Not at all, Gilli. Coffee?”

“Sure.” Gillian hurried into the bathroom to stare at her reflection in the mirror. A huge dark stain ran from her breasts to her hips. The fabric was bleeding it across her abdomen until it darkened the entire bodice of her gown. “Why me?” She twisted and reached for the zipper, her back cracking like bubble wrap as she tried to reach the desired tag. Stumbling into the counter, she watched the contents of his shaving kit skip across the countertop before they rolled to the floor.

The clatter of glass on the stone floor drew a wince as she kneeled to pick it up. Her fingers closed around the aftershave as the door swung open, upending her into a tangled mass of satin, tulle, and nylons.

Please, God, if you’re there
—
take me now!

Heaving a sigh, she grabbed for the counter. She struggled with untangling the heels from the tulle beneath the satin as she muttered under her breath. Barefoot, she might have some success at looking like a grown woman and not some bumbling twit.

“Let me help you.” He hefted her onto the counter and moved between her legs. His hands trailed down her calves to her ankles to undo the straps of her shoes and toss them aside. “You okay? Looks like the straps were too tight.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Gilli sighed. The counter was cold beneath her ass, a sharp contrast to the heat skittering along her legs with each brush of his fingertips. Desire trailed along her body, the familiar itch she’d often refused to scratch. It hadn’t proven to be of any delight or pleasure. She met Jack’s gaze, a half-smile on his face, his fingers wrapped around her thighs.

“Can you help me with this zipper?” Gilli tucked her heel behind his knee, her fingers plucking at the ribbons of her dress. “I can’t reach…” A wiggle of her hips and she was perched against him, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the granite.

“Sure. Do you want me to get you a robe?”

“I think if you can just get the zipper down I’ll be fine.” Gillian offered what she hoped was a seductive smile. Running a heel up the back of his leg, she reached up to play with the loose end of his bowtie peeking out from beneath the collar of his dress shirt.

Why not do it? He’ll be gone in the morning, and it’s not like it’ll be anything that unpleasant. A few fast thrusts and he’ll be finished, and then a shower and you’ve successfully managed to have sex. After all it’s been what, three … no, four years since…

Ruthlessly, she slammed the door shut on the faint stirrings of memory. There was no point in reliving the experience, not that she could remember too many details, but still. Why risk ruining the opportunity?

Jack glanced from her hand to her face, a brow raised. “You’ll have to let go…”

Gilli tugged gently on the dark fabric, wrapped her legs around his hips, a hesitant smile on her face. “Let me help you with this dirty shirt. I really am sorry about it.”

His Adam’s apple bobbing, he wrapped his fingers around her wrists, firm but gentle as he took a half step back. “I’m not sure…”

“Shh.” Gillian pressed a kiss to his lips; if she let him talk, she’d chicken out. The gentle touch sent shards of moisture to her core. With a soft sound, she let him take the lead, deepening the kiss. His tongue stroked along hers before he pulled back.