Her Favorite Temptation (8 page)

She pressed both hands to her sternum, just in case her heart really did pound its way out of her chest in terror. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.” He grinned at her boyishly.

He looked ridiculously handsome and so pleased with himself. She had a sudden flash of what he must have been like as a teenage boy—irrepressible, shameless and more than a little cheeky.

“Those antibiotics clearly worked a miracle,” she said dryly.

“Something kicked in, that’s for sure. Now, for the moment of truth....” Eyebrows raised, he turned toward the balcony door. “Dum, dum, dum... And the winner is...”

The door slid open.

“Oh, thank God.” She didn’t often feel lucky, but tonight she’d scored, big-time.

“You got another set of keys in here somewhere?”

“In my handbag. Which is either on the little table near the front door, on the counter in the kitchen or on my bed.”

“Meet you in the hallway,” he said, disappearing inside her apartment.

Belatedly she remembered that there were no less than three days’ worth of dishes piled in her sink, and that the clothes she’d worn to lunch were strewn across her unmade bed, complete with underwear.

Clearly, embarrassment and self-revelation were the ongoing themes of her relationship with Will. She might as well get used to it.

She made her way through his apartment, carefully leaving his door ajar so they didn’t swap predicaments. She waited a full minute in the hallway before he appeared with her keys in hand.

“Sorry. Couldn’t find your handbag. It was under the stuff on your bed.”

She winced. “Thanks. Sorry for all the bother.”

“No bother.”

There was a definite speculative glint in his eye as his gaze dropped to her chest. He’d seen her black lace bra, then. The one she’d worn today, with the sheer cups and the red embroidered roses along the edges.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue. I really appreciate it. If you ever need me to return the favor, my door and balcony are always open.”

She took a step backward, eager to put the past few minutes of high drama and emotion and exposure behind her.

“Hang on—I thought we had a date with a slab of chocolate?”

She blinked. “Oh. You don’t have to do that. I mean, I’m okay now. I’ll just have a shower and watch something on TV and go to bed and everything will be fine in the morning.”

Will cocked his head, his gaze searching. “Doesn’t sound like much of a way to celebrate your birthday.”

She dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

There was a short pause before he responded. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

It was. She was almost sure of it.

“Thanks, Will.”

She offered him one last smile before disappearing into her apartment. The moment she closed the door, regret crashed down on her. Why had she rejected his offer? Wasn’t spending the evening with a beautiful, sexy, talented man a gazillion, bazillion times better than moping on the couch by herself? Regret continued to eat away at her as she stripped out of her running clothes and showered.

Why had she said no to him? She truly had no idea.

Because he was just being polite and kind.

Was he? Nothing she’d seen of Will so far indicated that he was a people pleaser. Kind, yes. Generous, certainly. But he wasn’t a do-gooder.

She was dressing in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt when it occurred to her that the alternative to him being polite and kind was that he’d genuinely wanted to spend the evening with her.

Her heart gave an excited little kick in her chest. She frowned. That, right there, was another good reason to have rejected his offer. He wasn’t interested in her.

Then she remembered the gleam in his eye after he’d exited her apartment, the way his gaze had dropped to her breasts.

Okay, maybe he was a
little
interested in her.

Fanning her damp hair out around her shoulders, she wandered into the kitchen and stared dispiritedly at the pile of dishes in the sink.

“Screw it.”

Spinning on her heel, she went into her bedroom, peeled off her top, swapped the white bra she’d put on after her shower for the sexy, sheer black one, tugged on her top again and headed for the kitchen. Once there, she grabbed a bottle of wine and some corn chips, slipped her keys into her pocket and barreled out the door before she could think it to death.

He answered on the second knock, a knowing smile playing about his mouth.

“I changed my mind,” she said boldly.

“Excellent decision.”

Standing to one side, he waved her inside.

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
LATER
, Will watched with growing amusement as Leah ate the last of his chocolate.

“How’s that treating you?” he asked as she gave a wistful sigh.

“Very well. Why do they make these bars so small?”

“Heart disease? Diabetes?”

She made a rude noise. “Those old chestnuts.”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought she was maybe a little drunk. He’d abstained, for a number of reasons, the official one being because he was on antibiotics, but he’d encouraged her to open the wine anyway. The result was the soft-eyed, pink-cheeked woman sitting beside him on the couch, her knees drawn up to her chest as she savored the last mouthful.

“I think chocolate might be my favorite food,” she said thoughtfully. “In fact, if I knew tomorrow was my last day on earth, I’m pretty sure I’d have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

“That’s a pretty big call.”

“What about you? What would you eat for your final meal?”

He glanced at the ring on his right hand, twisting it counterclockwise. “I don’t know. I haven’t really given it much thought,” he lied.

The subject was a little too close to home. He’d expected to be on the other side of his operation by now, dealing with whatever fallout there might be. Coming down with the flu had put a hold on the surgery, though, it being too dangerous for them to operate when his respiratory and immune systems were so compromised. Once he had the all clear, his surgeon had promised to reschedule him as soon as he could.

Until then, Will was in limbo again. Waiting. But there was nothing new about that.

She stretched her arms high over her head, the picture of satisfaction. He did his damnedest not to notice the way the move pushed her breasts against the fabric of her top, and failed miserably.

“Well, that was better than lunch, and it cost about one-twentieth of the price. How ’bout that?”

He rested his feet on the coffee table. So far, she hadn’t said a word about what had clearly been a less than stellar family celebration, and he had played the game, sharing anecdotes from his family, his recent tour of the States and his experiences at music-award ceremonies, enjoying making her laugh.

Now, he very carefully didn’t say a thing as she took a big swallow from her wine. Leah, he was learning, needed to work herself up to things that were unfamiliar to her. Like confiding in people, for example.

Which was fine with him. As long as she wasn’t sobbing her heart out, he was good. He never wanted to see her face crumple like that again. He had been powerless to stop himself from taking her in his arms. He came from a long line of huggers—the Jones family had never been shy when it came to physical expressions of love and affection—and it was second nature to him to offer comfort when it was needed. And it had definitely been needed.

It would be a long time before he forgot the fierce urgency with which she’d held him. Or how disturbingly
right
it had felt to have her in his arms.

She swirled her wine, her expression sobering. Her hair had dried into big, loose curls, and she looked impossibly beautiful and unhappy as she gazed into the middle distance.

“Do you get along with your family?” she asked suddenly, her gaze penetrating as she focused on him. “I mean, do you talk to each other? Hang out with each other?”

“Both my sisters are older than me. I wouldn’t say we hang out. But I speak to them regularly, sure. They like to keep up-to-date on their nagging.”

Her eyes creased ever so slightly at the corners as she smiled as his small joke. “What do they nag you about?”

“What
don’t
they nag me about? The food I eat, my friends, the cover of my latest album, whatever bullshit they’ve read in the media about me. They pretty much run the gauntlet.”

She gave him a shrewd, assessing look. “You like them.”

“Guilty as charged.” They might be pains, but he wouldn’t swap Vanessa or Izzy for the world.

“I have a sister,” Leah said. “Her name is Audrey. She’s four years older than me, and she’s smart and determined and gorgeous. And we see each other about five times a year. My birthday, her birthday, Mum and Dad’s birthdays and Christmas.” She counted them off on her fingers.

“You’d like to see her more?”

The expression in her golden eyes was bleak. “Yes. I’ve only just realized that, but yes. I don’t know if she’d want to see more of me, though. I probably wouldn’t, if I was her. I’d probably hate my guts.”

He frowned, trying to read between the lines. “Did something happen between you two?”

“Yes. Our mother.” She took a big gulp, draining her wine then setting down the glass. “I’m the favorite, you see. The smart one. The one who always gets it right. And Audrey is the screwup, the one who always gets it wrong. It’s been that way all our lives. It’s ugly and cruel and I can’t sit back and let it happen any longer.” She almost choked on the last few words, she was so vehement, so emotional.

“It sounds to me like this is your parents’ problem, not yours,” he said, treading carefully into what were clearly very troubled waters.

“I’m part of it. Every time I listen to them pump me up while putting her down and don’t say anything, I’m part of it.” She leaned toward him, her pretty mouth trembling with emotion. “Do you know what they did today? Right in front of her, they gave me ten thousand dollars’ worth of shares. You know what they gave her for her thirtieth? A trip to Queensland.”

“That’s not your fault, Leah. They did that, not you.”

“I felt so sick when I saw it. How could they do that to her? How can they not care what messages they send her, over and over?”

“Why do you think they do it?”

She stared into the distance for a beat, then shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Dad pretty much does whatever it takes to keep Mum happy. And she... I think Mum blames Audrey for the compromises she had to make in her career when she found out she was pregnant. I think she transferred all her hopes to us, and when Audrey didn’t turn out to be perfect, she wrote her off and put it all on me. And I’ve done my best to be perfect all my life, because God forbid I wasn’t.”

He didn’t know what to say. His own family was far from ideal, but the kind of dysfunction she was describing was the stuff that kept psychologists and pharmaceutical companies in business. Clearly her mother was one screwed-up unit, and she’d done her best to screw up her kids, too.

“Have you and Audrey ever talked about any of this?”

Leah shook her head, her eyelashes sweeping her cheeks as she studied her clasped hands in her lap. “I was too busy being Brainstein the wonder doctor, jumping through all the flaming hoops my parents offered me. Audrey has gotten very good at protecting herself over the years. She’s a pro.”

“Brainstein? What’s that, a family nickname or something?” he asked. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it, didn’t like the faint, self-contemptuous little curl of her lip when she said it.

“The kids used to call me that at school. Because I was always the best at everything.”

“Little shits.”

“I probably deserved it.” She hooked her arms around her drawn-up legs and rested her chin on her knees. “I want to fix things with my sister, Will.”

“Okay.”

“But I don’t know how.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do, Leah. You talk to her. You meet for dinner or lunch, and you tell her what you told me. And then it’s over to her, because you can’t make it happen on your own.”

“Just like that, out of the blue?”

“What else are you going to do? Send her an agenda?”

She smiled faintly. “You think that’s a bad idea?”

He gave her a look.

“Okay. No agenda. Dinner instead.”

He grabbed her phone off the coffee table, offering it to her.

“What? You want me to call her now?” She seemed both alarmed and challenged by the concept.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m drunk. And I’m almost certain I’ll burst into tears, and I don’t think that’s really the approach I should be going for.”

He put the phone on the table. “Point taken.”

She stretched out a leg, nudging him with her bare foot, a soft, sheepish smile on her mouth. “Thanks for the suggestion, though. It would be an excellent strategy for a sober, rational person.”

He caught her foot before she could withdraw it, his hand closing around her long, elegant instep. She froze, her gaze locking with his. Of its own volition, his thumb swept across the top of her foot, gliding over the fragile bones and tendons and the smooth velvet of her skin.

Because he could. Because he’d been desperate to touch her from the moment he’d met her.

Her chest rose and fell. He told himself to look away, to break the moment, but he couldn’t. She was too sexy, too vulnerable, too open.

The moment stretched. She tugged her foot free, gently sliding it from his grasp. He was busy convincing himself it was just as well when she shifted, tucking her legs under her so she was kneeling, and leaned toward him.

His gaze gravitated to her mouth as she moved closer. The full plushness of her lower lip, the soft, delicate shape of the upper. He breathed in her perfume, felt himself growing hard as he imagined the weight of her against him, imagined himself stroking his tongue into her mouth, peeling her clothes off layer by layer, discovering her secrets one at a time.

He reached out, his hands curving around her shoulders. Stopping her before this became something it shouldn’t.