Slow Hands (4 page)

His lips quirked. “Uh, by that I meant a beautiful woman’s
face
, of course.”

Remembering the second part of her comment, she inwardly groaned, mortified at having given the man such an easy opening.

“You really are stunning,” he murmured, not handing her a line, not at all sleazy. Just confident of what he said. “A dark and vibrant flame next to all those icy princesses.”

Maddy swallowed. It wasn’t possible that he
knew
her—and her reputation—was it? No. He couldn’t. He was using his wiles, his tricks of the trade, telling her what he thought she wanted to hear, like any good professional. Because far from being the vibrant “flame,” she was known as the coldest businesswoman in Chicago.

Did he really see her so differently?

“You looked entirely
alive
from up on that stage…the only woman who did.”

Okay, boy-next-door or not, the man was good at getting around a woman’s defenses with that sexy-smooth delivery. Too good. Especially since she knew there was no way she could have him. Just the thought of what might have happened between him and her stepmother had she not prevented it was enough to make her stomach turn.

Besides, never again would she be with someone who had sex with more partners in a month than she’d had in her lifetime. Been there, done that. Her ex simply had not gotten paid for it. He hadn’t needed to. He’d quite enjoyed giving it away for free to any woman who’d spread her legs.

Well…she had to give this Jake some credit. At least he was honest and open about what he was.

That, however, was as much as she was willing to concede. “I have to go.”

“Oh, come on,” he urged, “please don’t. You’ve got to at least let me buy you a beer for saving me from utter humiliation in front of that bloodthirsty crowd.”

“And from your sisters.”

“Who are absolutely merciless.”

His tone said he didn’t care, that there was a genuine fondness between him and his siblings. Well, Maddy understood that. Though she might have little to nothing in common with Tabby, that didn’t mean she didn’t love her. She understood the concept of loving someone even if you didn’t completely understand them. If not, she’d never have survived this many years in her own family.

“I have one of those.”

“Sisters?”

She nodded. “And she’s also pretty merciless. Especially about getting her own way.”

“I somehow suspect you can hold your own.”

“Ditto.”

“I always found that hanging their bras out their bedroom windows was an effective deterrent to future harassment.”

Maddy couldn’t help chuckling again, unable to keep a smile off her face, dimple exposure or not. “I don’t know that Tabitha’s ever owned one,” she replied, thinking of her sister’s willowy, graceful figure. Tabby was Gwyneth Paltrow slender all the way. While Maddy was more on the Catherine Zeta Jones side.

He glanced down, probably not even aware he was doing it. The glance was quick, not offensive, probably almost reflex considering the need to check out a woman’s breasts seemed inbred into male genes.

His gaze rose to her face, but not so quickly that she didn’t see the way his jaw flexed and his eyes narrowed, shining with dark intensity and appreciation, all traces of that easygoing good humor disappearing.

Hers disappeared, as well. Not to be replaced by anger…but by pure physical awareness. The roam of his stare over her body affected her just as thoroughly as a real touch from anyone else would have.

Sometimes, she didn’t mind so much being the more curvaceous of the Turner sisters. Tabitha had the runway model shape and maintained it by eating as much as a three-day-old sparrow. Maddy, meanwhile, bordered on voluptuous, from her more than ample breasts to her small waist and downright generous hips, and fought every potato chip and cheesecake urge to keep it that way.

Her body might play hell with her wardrobe, ruling out any cute little backless sundress or strapless gowns, which Tabby had by the roomful. But right now, at this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. And it was all because of the heat in this sexy man’s eyes and the almost audible quality of his next, slowly indrawn breath.

That was lust she saw there. Pure and undisguised, unhidden by social demands or proper breeding that insisted it wasn’t polite to visibly covet a woman.

He was coveting. She was being coveted. They were both caught in the tension of it.

Though her mind knew better, her body couldn’t help responding. Beneath the silky dress, her skin puckered, tiny goose bumps rising on the deep V of her cleavage, her nipples tightening to jut against the lace of her bra. Her pulse fluttered in her throat, and the breaths she managed to inhale were shallow. Each was filled with the warmth of him and the dark, masculine scent of his body, which had edged to within inches of her own.

All from a look. What in God’s name might happen to her if he ever laid a hand on her?

“Please say yes,” he murmured. “For no other reason than that you want to.”

His tone remained light, not demanding, not intense, despite the look in his eyes and the static in the air between them. As if he knew that coming on too strong might scare her off.

And suddenly, it was working. Her verbal defenses had been firmly in place at the start, but now…well, now she’d actually allowed herself to see him as a person—a very sexy person—rather than just the instrument her stepmother had intended to use to hurt her father.

If he’d played the lothario, Maddy would already have been out of here. But he hadn’t. He’d merely sounded friendly, engaging, and oh
so
tempting. While he spoke of polite things like his family, his eyes did all the more intimate talking. He
wanted
her, yet managed to remain genuine and self-deprecating. Not at all like the male prostitute he was.

Suddenly remembering what else Tabby had told her about the man, and the glimpse she’d had at the auction program, she said, “You don’t have an accent!”

“Am I supposed to?”

She clenched her lips shut, wishing she’d thought to learn a bit more about what she was up against tonight. Tabitha had given her the bare bones and Maddy had raced into the plan. Typical story. Just the way it was when they were kids and Tabby had been Lucy holding the ball while Charlie Brown Maddy ran down the field to kick it,
knowing
she was going to end up on her ass.

“I should have made her do it herself,” Maddy muttered, though she knew that would have been a very bad idea. Even Tabitha had known better.

Maddy could be trusted to avoid a sexy gigolo. Hopefully. Her sister could not. And Tabby seemed truly determined to make her next marriage—which was scheduled for its high society kickoff in a few weeks—work. She would
never
have been able to keep her perfectly manicured fingers off this hunk.

But Maddy could. And she would. Any moment now. As soon as her heart slowed down and her body came off orange alert and went back down to at least yellow.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Maddy stared at him, searching for something in his expression, a hint that a predator lurked beneath his oh-so-sexy, laid-back, nice-guy appearance. There must be something—malice, greed, or lasciviousness—behind the open, honest interest in his stare. Just because she hadn’t seen it, didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

There
had
to be more to him than she was seeing. And she almost wished she had time to find it.

Maybe if she’d been introduced to him at a cocktail party or met him at the bank, she’d allow herself to fall for the sexy, charming, friendly demeanor and let herself be seduced by the want in his eyes. She would try to get to know him better, and let him know his physical interest was most definitely reciprocated.

But one undeniable truth prevented that.

If she had not been tipped off and come here tonight to prevent it, the man standing in front of her would probably be upstairs having sex with her father’s wife right this minute.

And that was the end of her waffling. Again repulsed by the very idea, Maddy took a step away, removing her arm from his touch, and the rest of her from the force field of sexiness encompassing the man like a cloak. She was immune, damn it. Mentally and, now, because of the harsh truth she’d just forced herself to acknowledge, physically.

Maddy pasted the cordial but not exactly friendly, expression on her face she used daily when running interference between her father and the sycophants constantly hitting him up. “Really, Mr. Wallace, there’s no wrong foot. You don’t owe me a thing. I’m glad I was able to keep you from the ridicule of your sisters.” With a deliberately rueful smile, she thought of how she’d ended up here tonight and admitted, “They can definitely be annoying.”

“Okay then. So we’ll have a drink while we compare our crazy families, make our plans and check out the sports page for the next home game.” Frowning, he added, “You
are
a Cubs fan, aren’t you?”

“I think it’s illegal not to be around here.”

“Meaning there’s nothing stopping us from going out.”

“If I told you I liked the Cardinals, would that get this ridiculous idea out of your head?” He lifted a hand to his chest, his jaw opening in horror. Which made her laugh again. “Kidding.”

“You’d go that far to avoid going out with me?” he asked, his voice growing quiet, his smile fading. As if her answer really mattered to him…as if he
cared
.

Shaking her head, Maddy stepped around him, taking that first all-important step toward the door. And away from Mr. Superstud. “It’s not about going out with you. I had my own reasons for being here tonight, and they didn’t include a date. So you are completely off the hook.”

“But the money…”

“Was for the children.”
And for my father
. “There’s no quid pro quo in this.” Even if five minutes ago all her most feminine parts had been demanding that she get at least a little bit of quid and a whole lot of quo for being so…
awakened
by him.

That was a good word for it. Their brief conversation hadn’t aroused her quite to the level of blatant physical desire. But it had most definitely awakened her to the possibilities. Especially because she suddenly realized that as well as being physically attracted to him, she could also truly like this warm, amusing man.

Oh, there were
so
many possibilities.

No
. They were
im
possibilities. Her most feminine parts would have to be happy watching hot doctors having affairs at Seattle Grace.

Telling herself she would not regret this in the morning, but wondering how she’d make it through the long, lonely night ahead without fantasizing about how she
could
have spent it—she murmured “Goodbye,” and walked out of his life.

J
AKE HAD THREE SISTERS
,
so he knew better than to try to change a woman’s mind when she had definitely made it up. And the sexy brunette in the silky blue dress had most assuredly made up her mind to leave. Funny, though…he had the feeling she’d decided to ditch him before she’d ever bid on him.

Which, frankly, made him feel a lot better. Because her disinterest was not personal. He just needed to make sure that her
interest
became
very
personal.

Because there was no way that pert little dismissal and the sashay of her curvy hips out the ballroom door was the end of their relationship. Uh-uh. She’d been sexy and mysterious, aloof and unattainable from behind that black curtain. Now that he’d seen those stormy brown eyes, heard that whiskey-toned voice and caught a glimpse of her beautiful smile and those adorable dimples, he found her not only sexy and earthy but also almost heart-stoppingly desirable.

And no longer unattainable. He had a legitimate reason to find her. A good reason. He owed her what he’d promised and he never welshed on a deal.

Jake didn’t even consider following her. He didn’t need to. Chicago might be a big city, but the world in which the über-wealthy lived was a small, incestuous one. He could find out who she was with a few well-placed questions at the reception going on down the hall.

The problem was, he really didn’t want to venture into that reception. He’d escaped the clutches of the catcalling rich bitches and he had no desire to fall into them again. Fortunately, he didn’t have to.

“Excuse me,” he said as he strode toward the checkout desk. It was almost deserted now, with just a few last volunteers counting cash, sorting checks and cleaning up after the flesh-spending-frenzy.

“Yes?” an attractive brunette replied. Jake recognized her as the woman who ran the charity organization benefiting from tonight’s auction—the Give A Kid A Christmas thing that provided traditional holiday seasons for families living in Chicago’s abused women shelters. Noelle something. She’d been earnest and friendly, a little harried, but not coolly amused and assessing the way some of the auction organizers had been when he’d arrived.