It Takes a Rebel (20 page)

Now that he looked back on the episode, he felt downright used. Like a … a … a piece of meat.

"Well, that's a relief," Derek said. "Promise me you'll be on your best behavior."

"Yeah, I promise." A rather
large
piece of meat, but meat nonetheless.

"Anything else going on I should know about?"

"Um, no, not a thing." Jack leaned down to massage his throbbing ankle. He didn't have the time or energy to launch into the

office problems, plus he didn't want to wreck the rest of Derek's honeymoon. "How's Hawaii?"

"Great," Derek said. "What little we've seen of it."

"Bad weather?"

"No, good sex. I figure we can buy a postcard book or something at the airport when we leave."

Jack chuckled. "Janine has really loosened you up, man."

"Yeah, it's amazing how a woman can change you."

When an image of Alex's face flashed in his mind, Jack suddenly sobered. "That's assuming a man needs to be changed."

"Yeah, well, we're not all perfect like you, Jack. Hey, I have to go—Janine just yelled for me."

"And you jump when she calls?"

"Like a randy kangaroo," Derek said cheerfully. "You just wait, man, a woman's going to come along someday and blindside

you, too."

Jack frowned and hung up the phone. He didn't begrudge his brother happiness—God knew he deserved it. But he'd become

one of those I - found - the - meaning - of - life - and - you - need - it - too - brotha - and - sista married people. No, thanks.

Pure resolve drove him to finish the drawings in record time, which he tucked into a portfolio. Since he was picking up Al at

his office, he'd stop on the way and make color copies to leave on Alex's desk so she'd have them before the photo and

commercial shoot on Monday. The drawings were good and maybe they would prevent his ass from being fired, if his

suspicions regarding Alex's wiles were confirmed.

Jack sighed, mentally kicking himself with every step through the parking lot. He'd find out soon enough, he supposed.

* * *

inventory of items she was gathering for the shoot on Monday. At this rate, she'd need a van to get Jack's wardrobe and props

to the studio. She sat at her desk, too restless and distracted by the events of the previous evening to address anything but the

most superficial items on her to-do list.

Snatches of their hurried lovemaking flashed through her mind, unbidden. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hands

on her, could still feel their bodies joined. But when she opened her eyes, all she could feel was the blanket of guilt settling

over her head. She wasn't sure what had come over her last night when Jack had returned to her door, but so far she had ruled

out common sense, rationality and coherence.

Leaning forward on her elbows, Alex pressed her fingers to her temples and admitted the awful truth.
She had wanted him
.

Blame it on being thrown off balance by his sudden appearance at the racetrack, blame it on the disappointment of Heath

leaving early, blame it on the proximity to Jack the rest of the afternoon, blame it on the weather, but she had wanted him in the

most base way a woman could want a man. Worse, she wanted him again.

At the short rap on her door, Alex turned, relieved at the sight of her father standing in the doorway. They had the whole

afternoon together, just the two of them—just the tonic she needed to put Jack Stillman out of her mind. "Are you ready to leave

for the gallery?" she asked, reaching for her purse, then hesitated at the sight of his rather casual clothing.

"Alex, dear, I'm sorry. I left you a message at your apartment this morning, but you must have already left. Would you mind if

I take a rain check on the gallery showing?"

Disappointment barbed through her, but she managed a shrug. "Has something come up?"

"Actually—hey, Jack!" He waved with animation in the direction of the elevators.

Alex's heart jumped to her throat. "Jack?" she croaked.

"He invited me to the UK football game this afternoon. You don't mind if you and I reschedule, do you, dear?"

She did mind, but one look at his shining face told her where and with whom he'd rather spend the day. Her heart squeezed.

"Of course I d-don't mind, Dad." Then she tensed, waiting for the appearance of Jack, wishing she'd had more time to prepare

for this face-to-face meeting.

The day was rapidly going in the tank.

Looking well-rested and fit in jeans and a gray UK sweatshirt, Jack stepped into the doorway and shook hands with her

father. The men made small talk, ignoring her, but giving her time to gather her wits.

Her heart thumped crazily as she scrutinized the length of him, struck by his incredible good looks, remembering their

intimate encounter, the things they'd whispered to each other in the throes of passion. Her temperature climbed and the collar of

her blouse suddenly seemed warm against her neck.

"Hello, Alex," he said finally, smiling in her direction.

"Hello, Jack," she responded, just as if they had no carnal knowledge of each other whatsoever.

"I brought a few drawings to leave with you," he said, patting a portfolio he held under his arm.

"You kids can chat," her father said. "I'll wrap up a few things on my desk."

"Ten minutes?" Jack asked him.

Her father winked and clapped Jack on the shoulder. "You got it, son."

Jealousy gripped her stomach at the easy camaraderie between her father and this virtual stranger, something she and her

father would never have. When Al retreated and Jack walked into her office, she swallowed hard. On the other hand, if she

could sleep with this virtual stranger, why shouldn't her father enjoy a mere afternoon of football with him?

"Hi," he said, with the smallest smile.

She matched his expression. "I thought we got past that point already."

"I left my jacket at your place again."

Alex crossed her arms, glad for the comforting barrier of her desk. "Along with your teeth print on my leg."

His eyebrow shot up and for a split second he looked proud of himself, then recovered. "Sorry about that."

"That's okay," she said, anxious to put the lapse behind them. "It won't happen again."

He scratched his temple, and nodded. "I agree."

She blinked. "Good." She wasn't sure what kind of reaction she'd expected, but meek acquiescence wasn't on the list. Which

obviously meant that he'd found their tryst less than remarkable. To change the subject, she pointed to the portfolio. "You have

some drawings to show me?"

He nodded, walking toward her desk.

"Are you limping?"

"Uh, yeah, I twisted it last night when I was leaving."

Alex bit back a smile as she took the portfolio. "Are you okay?"

He looked a little sheepish. "I'll survive. Listen, I overheard your father when I walked up. I didn't mean to take him away

from plans the two of you had already made."

"No problem," she said, waving it off despite another pang. "I'm glad to see him doing something fun, and I'm sure he'll enjoy

the game with you more than some stuffy old gallery."

"You were going to the Bernard showing?"

Surprised, Alex nodded. "Yes. You've heard of the artist?"

"I own two of her originals."

She stared, agape. "How … interesting." Interesting? More like "astounding."

A light rap sounded at her open door. "Ms. Tremont?"

Alex looked up to see one of the fine jewelry salesclerks. "Yes, Carla?"

"I brought the wedding ring sets you requested."

She motioned her inside. "Excuse me, Jack, this will just take a moment." Alex lifted the lid on one of the two cigar-box-size

jeweler's cases, and smiled her pleasure at the dazzling array of gold, platinum and white-gold sets of wedding bands. "Yes,

Carla, these are the exact cases I was interested in. Thank you."

Carla left and Alex set aside the open box, noting Jack's pallor. She swallowed a smile, thinking maybe she shouldn't tell him

she was considering having him wear some of them in the commercial shoots Monday.

"Have you ever been married, Jack?"

"No."

The one clipped word, along with his shifted gaze, told her volumes. If the mere sight of the rings made the man that nervous,

she would skip them. There was something to be said about portraying Jack as the free-spirited bachelor he was. After all, she

had certainly found it appealing, hadn't she?

But art collector? She opened her mouth to inquire into this most intriguing bit of information, but her father returned to claim

Jack for their afternoon at the stadium. Feeling like a little girl being left behind, Alex followed them to the doorway of her

office and leaned against the frame. Hugging herself, she watched Jack as he walked away, talking easily with her intimidating

father, and wondered how many other layers this man had to reveal.

But her musings were derailed when Heath appeared in the hallway, walking toward her father and Jack. Her pulse stalled

for the few seconds the men conversed, and she experienced the strangest sensation when Jack and Heath shook hands.

Engaged to one, fooling around with the other.

And what did that make
her?
Alex exhaled a shaky breath as several unflattering adjectives whirled through her mind. Her

engagement ring winked at her, mocking her. She couldn't simply dismiss her betrayal to Heath—she needed to talk to him, the

sooner, the better.

Heath gestured to the men's backs when he walked up, fresh-faced and unaware of her turmoil. "I thought you and Al were

taking in the gallery today."

"We were."

He scoffed. "He stood you up for a lousy football game?"

"Yes."

"Well, you know I'm not much on this Bernard guy's art, but I'll go with you," he offered.

"She." A feeling of loss stabbed her as the two men walked onto the elevator and the door closed behind them.

"Excuse me?"

Alex looked back to Heath. "Bernard—the artist is a 'she.'"

She visualized giving back his ring, a teary goodbye. "Um, no," she said, suddenly changing her mind. "I think I'll take some

flowers out to my mother's grave this afternoon." She needed the comfort of being close to someone who had loved her

unconditionally. Perhaps she could sort out all of the mess in her head in the serenity of the shady cemetery.

As expected, Heath backed off immediately, even as he followed her into her office. "I'll let you have some private time,

then. Hey, what's with the wedding rings?"

Alex sat in her comfy leather seat and unzipped the portfolio Jack had left, eager to see his new drawings. "I'm trying to work

the rings into the new ad campaign."

"Hmm. Any of these you like well enough for me to wear?"

Her head jerked up when his words sank in. "What?"

"Why not?" Heath said, gesturing to the rings. "We've put this off long enough, don't you think?"

Chapter 14

« ^ »

"
W
hat did you say?" Lana asked.

Alex sighed into the phone and hooked her legs over the arm of her faithful chair. "I agreed to go away with Heath next

weekend to talk about where our relationship goes from here. His timing is uncanny."

"Maybe he senses another buck sniffing around his doe."

"Oh, now that's romantic. If you don't buy the coffee shop, maybe you should start writing greeting cards for a living." At the

sound of a distant
ping
, she turned her head toward the balcony door. Seeing nothing, she dismissed the noise. "Any big Sunday

plans?"

"I'm working this afternoon. How about you?"

"Cleaning, I guess. Heath left again this morning for Cincinnati. How's your roommate situation?"

"Intolerable. We're not even speaking now, we leave notes. I write mine in pig Latin just to piss her off."

Ping
. Alex frowned at the noise, standing this time. "Hold on, Lana, I think I hear something."

"What?"

Ping
.

"I don't know." She moved toward the glass door and slid it open just in time for a peasized pebble to bounce off her

forehead. "Ow!"

"What happened?"

"I have to go."

"Don't leave me hanging—"

Alex disconnected the call and stepped out onto her balcony, barely dodging another pebble before she leaned over the

railing.

Jack stood on the ground, two stories below, one hand pulled back in preparation to launch another pebble, the other loaded

with enough ammo to pester her for a week. He stopped when he saw her and gave her a boyish grin.

Alex's spirits lifted absurdly. "You almost gave me a concussion," she yelled.

"That's my secret weapon," he yelled back. "Women with concussions are much easier to persuade."

Wary, she crossed her arms. She couldn't imagine what the man might say that would provide the slightest bit of enticement.

"Persuade to do what?"

He held up two pink slips of paper. "Tickets to the Bernard showing this afternoon."

Okay, she was enticed.

"Including a reception for the artist."

Alex pursed her mouth. "I … need to change."

He grinned. "Wear riding clothes. The weather is great."

Telling herself that
this
was not a date, this was
not
a date, and this was not a
date
, Alex scoured her wardrobe for