It Takes a Rebel (19 page)

His response fueled her defenses, causing her to lash out. "So sorry if most of your conquests provide more than one round."

His mouth tightened, but otherwise, he didn't move.

The longer the silence stretched between them, the more unsure Alex was of her ability to resist him again. The man had a

way of mastering a room and the people in it. She had thought herself immune to his uncanny charisma, but had never been so

wrong. Unable to break eye contact with him, Alex watched him walk toward her, seemingly in slow motion. With his every

step her resolve crumbled, and with a sinking dread, she realized where they were once again headed.

A knock on her door halted his progress, and she sighed with relief. Lana to the rescue. Alex turned to the door and called,

"Lana, I'm a little busy right now."

"Alex," Heath said, and the sound of his voice sent terror to her heart.

She turned wide eyes toward Jack, who seemed almost … amused? Gesturing wildly, she hissed, "You have to get out of

here!"

"Why?" he whispered. "I locked the door—just don't let him in."

"He has a key," she whispered back, her heart thudding in her ears. Heath did not deserve to find another man in her

apartment. Louder, she called, "Give me a minute and I'll be right there." Desperate, she ran to retrieve Jack's shirt. "You have

to hide!"

He caught his shirt and shrugged into it, then fastened his jeans. "I will
not
hide just because you can't admit the truth to your

boyfriend."

Alex stopped, facing him. "And what truth would that be?"

"That he obviously doesn't satisfy you."

Her face flamed in the face of her wantonness. "I love Heath," she said calmly.

"Oh, you
love
him? Well, your loyalty is staggering."

His sarcasm stung her like a slap. She imagined all kinds of scenes if Heath and Jack squared off in her apartment, Jack

gloating, Heath the cuckold. She hated herself, and she hated Jack Stillman. "If you have a decent bone in your body, you won't

do this," Alex managed to say.

"I'll just use my key," Heath announced, and she closed her eyes, tensing for a confrontation. She opened her eyes at the

sound of a door sliding open, just in time to see the blue of Jack's shirt disappearing over the railing of her balcony.

The sheer curtains billowed inside the apartment, dancing on the breeze. Before she could react, Heath opened the door, and

she wheeled to give him a smile she snatched from thin air.

He gave her a quick embrace, but all Alex could think was that the aroma of another man's lovemaking lingered on her body.

"Enjoying the balcony?" Heath asked, nodding toward the open door.

"Um, no, not exactly," Alex said, slipping out of his arms and crossing to the open door. "The insects are so bad, you know."

She slid the door closed, just in time to muffle the low rumble of a motorcycle starting. At least the cad hadn't broken his neck,

she thought with a tiny rush of relief.

"Your bug zapper isn't working?" Heath asked behind her.

"Not on this particular pest," she murmured to the glass door, watching the single taillight disappear at a breathtaking speed.

Chapter 13

« ^ »

"
O
kay, Alex, I have a fifteen minute break, so you'd better talk fast." Lana set a mug of steaming coffee in front of Alex and

plopped down in the opposite café chair.

"Who says I have something to talk about?" Alex was already reconsidering her impulse to stop by to see her friend before

putting in a few hours at the office on a Saturday morning.

Lana looked toward the ceiling. "I'm assuming this impromptu visit has something to do with the grinding full-body kiss you

shared with Jack the Attack last night, followed by his subsequent return, then Heath's appearance, and my next door neighbor's

shrieking phone call that some man was scaling down the fire escape ladder from your apartment."

Stunned, Alex swallowed a huge mouthful of coffee. "I didn't realize I was under surveillance."

"Our cable was finally cut off, and the traffic in and out of your apartment was more interesting than watching static."

"Gee, thanks."

"Just be glad I was able to talk Mrs. Standish out of calling the police," Lana said. "Holy hickey—is that a bite mark on your

leg?"

Choking on the coffee she sucked down her windpipe, Alex's gaze flew to the area between her ankle and calf, the pink

imprint of Jack's perfect teeth clearly visible on her bare leg below the hem on her long floral skirt. She hadn't noticed it this

morning, but then again, she wasn't accustomed to checking her body for telltale love bites, either. Alex quickly crossed her

legs at the knee, tucking the offensive mark out of sight. "I, um … I, um…"

"You're blushing again," her friend said with a whoop. "So, was he as fantastic a lover as he was rumored to be in college?"

Alex massaged her temples, wondering if she should unload her grievous mistake on her friend or let it fester inside her until

she ruptured from guilt. Finally, she sighed and nodded morosely.

Lana squealed. "I knew it! The best you've ever had?"

Her dignity long gone, she winced and nodded again.

Another squeal. "How
romantic
—your lover sneaking down the fire escape as your fiancé walks through the front door!"

"Lana, it wasn't romantic, it was lunacy. It was deceitful. Heath is a decent man who deserves better." She stared into the

depths of her coffee, wishing she'd been thinking as clearly last night as she was this morning.

Her friend was studying her with those disconcerting violet eyes. "Oh, my God. You're falling for Jack Stillman, aren't you?"

Alex's eyes bulged from her aching head. "You can't be serious. I don't even
like
Jack Stillman."

"Disdain keeps a relationship interesting. Look at my folks."

"Lana, for heaven's sake, there's no 'relationship' here. The man is a playboy, heavy emphasis on the 'boy.'"

"He looked full-grown from my vantage point."

She scoffed. "He probably went home and carved a notch in the post of his waterbed."

Lana lifted a pale eyebrow. "Just one notch?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "Yeeeeees."

"Did you tell Heath?"

"No."

"Good—take this one to your grave."

"Considering I almost had a stroke last night when Heath showed up, I nearly
did
take it to my grave. He only stayed long

enough to have a drink, but I was an absolute nervous wreck by the time he left." She exhaled noisily. "I should have told him

last night. Instead I was awake all night, wallowing in guilt."

"Alex, you're too uptight. You and Heath aren't married yet, you know."

"But we're supposed to be setting a date soon!"

"Life is all about timing, girlfriend."

Alex frowned, reluctant to unleash that particular line of thinking.

Lana tilted her head. "Hmm—loose hair, pink cheeks, bright eyes. If you ask me, depravity suits you."

"You know, if you don't buy this coffee shop, you really should consider counseling."

"Me, be a counselor?"

"No, I meant you should
see
a counselor."

"Oh, very funny. You know, a black widow spider also turns hostile after good sex."

Alex stuck her tongue out at her friend.

"So, when will you see him again?"

"Who?"

"Jack!"

Alex sighed, certain there was no more miserable, sinful person walking the streets. "Monday. I'm supervising a combination

commercial and photo shoot. I don't have the slightest idea what I'll say when I see him."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Men tend not to obsess over illicit sex. They save their energy for bigger things, like professional

wrestling … and eating foods that end in
o
."

"Well, I'm sure you're right about one thing," Alex observed wryly. "Jack Stillman hasn't lost a wink of sleep over our little

encounter."

* * *

night. More than the lost sleep, though, he simply hated the feeling of helplessness and frustration, and that he was letting it get

to him. After all, he'd only known the woman for a few days. If it didn't bother her to cheat on her boyfriend, why should it

bother him?

He banged his fist on his desk. Because, dammit, it had taken all his nerve to go back to her apartment and risk making a fool

out of himself. He'd hoped she felt the chemistry between them that had his senses on a tilt, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't

read this woman—she was different than the females he was accustomed to. Cold, hot, smart, gorgeous, engaged, sexy,

engaged, passionate. Engaged.

He resented like hell sneaking over her balcony like a blasted criminal while blankety-blank Reddinger marched in the

freaking front door like a bloody king. And it stuck in his craw to realize that what had been a fairly relevant experience for

him had been little more than a tumble to Alex.

You need to fasten your pants and leave, Jack.

At the memory of her words, he muttered a few more choice words of his own into his thick, cold coffee. He'd never been

asked to leave a woman's place before, except by the occasional rankled boyfriend or brother or father. He'd made the mistake

of thinking that because their passion had been electric for him, that it had been for Alex, too. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

He should have taken more time with her, he thought, chastising himself. Been more gentle, more—he grimaced—sensitive.

But the woman had him so worked up, it was a miracle he'd lasted as long as he did. He'd told himself that he would take his

time when they made love again, which would have been before morning if he'd had his way. Alex wasn't the kind of woman a

man could sample—he wanted his fill of her, and it irked him like the dickens that she didn't share his sentiments.

Jack stopped and frowned. Sentiments? Bad choice of words.

When another yawn overtook him, he stood to limp around his desk on the ankle he'd sprained when he dropped from the end

of the fire escape ladder. He sighed, running his hand down his face. At least the office was blessedly quiet. Tuesday,

thankfully, believed in weekends off from her non-paying job. And Stripling the Fed definitely wouldn't be bothering him on a

Saturday. So he was determined to finish several drawings today for the Tremont's account and a few other odds and ends—if

he could stay awake.

When the phone rang, he was tempted to let it go, then, buoyed by the slim chance that Alex might be trying to reach him, he

yanked up the receiver. "Stillman & Sons Agency, Jack speaking."

"Well, I
don't
believe it," his brother Derek said. "You in the office on a Saturday."

Jack winced, not in the mood to hear from his brother—Derek was having all the sex he could withstand with a woman he

cared about.

Not that he actually
cared
about Alex, Jack reminded himself.

"Are you there, Jack?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Naturally, he didn't want anything bad to happen to the woman, but that wasn't the same as caring about her.

"You don't sound so good, bro. Late night?"

"Not particularly. Just a little tired." Because if getting naked with Alexandria Tremont was foolish,
caring
about her would

be just plain stupid.

"How's the Tremont account going?"

"I'm working on it now. Thought I'd put in a few hours, before going to the football game with old man Tremont this

afternoon." Because the poor man who lost himself in those blue eyes of hers was doomed to a life of servitude.

"I'm impressed. In the office on a Saturday and shmoozing the client, too. If I didn't know better, Jack, I'd say you were …

working."

"I see marriage has turned you into a comedian," Jack remarked dryly. Although a life of servitude between the thighs of the

exquisite Alexandria held a certain amount of appeal.

"So, have you managed to wow the boss's daughter—what's her name?"

"Alexandria. And I wouldn't exactly use the word 'wow' yet." Although, dammit, if he could just convince her to give him

another chance between the sheets, he'd rock her world.

"You'll do all right if you can keep your libido under control."

Jack frowned, realizing that, once again, Derek was right. He'd probably blown his only chance to win over Alex by

dragging her to bed like a Neanderthal. Once Reddinger and her father found out, they'd kick him off the account for sure. Then

he straightened with a revelation.

What if she'd set him up? How convenient that good ol' Reddinger had shown up last night when he did. Maybe she'd

concocted the entire scheme to get rid of Jack and secure the other firm she'd wanted to work with all along. He gulped. And as

much as Al Tremont liked him, he might draw the line at Jack the Attack diddling his precious daughter. In fact, if Derek

wanted to kill him for bedding Ms. Tremont, he might have to stand in line.

"Jack," Derek said. "You
are
keeping your word to not get involved with this woman, aren't you?"

Remorse washed over him that he'd jeopardized the account, and worse, that he'd imagined Alexandria
wanted
him. "Derek,

we're not involved," he said thickly. Alex had made that much perfectly clear, hadn't she?
You need to fasten your pants and

leave, Jack.