Sweat Equity (9 page)

"As a matter of fact, I did, just today and came in here to celebrate."

"Congratulations." She shut her eyes against the inner calendar that had been so prevalent in her life for so many months–the one that reminded her that, if she had not broken it off with him, she'd be marrying the compelling man sitting next to her about the time the new building would open. They made plans around it, in fact. "Shit."

"What's that?" He looked at her, his deep blue eyes concerned, making her look away.

Fuck him and his fake emotions. The sight of Craig entering the door, clad in ass-hugging dark jeans and what looked like the softest blue button down shirt in the universe hanging over the waistband in his typical, too-cool-to-be-sloppy way lifted her heart. Yes. This was why she was here. She stood.

"Nothing, sorry. I, um, gotta go." She waved at Blake. Before she could make her way over to him, Craig appeared at her side, hand stuck out to shake Jack's, whose eyes narrowed at the sight of them, standing close. Sara flinched when he put an unwelcome arm around her waist.
What was he playing at?

"Gordon, congrats on the council meeting. Full steam ahead, eh?"

"Yeah." Jack shook his hand, never taking his eyes from Sara. She looked down on reflex, then back up at Craig as his arm tightened around her. "Thanks."

"Shall we?"he asked then turned her before she could say anything. She felt her face flush. The obvious pissing contest she'd just witnessed might have flattered another girl, but it aggravated her to no end. The last thing she wanted was to be some kind of trophy between these two men. She stepped away from Craig's arm. He smiled and pulled out her chair when they reached their table. She frowned at him, suddenly questioning her motivation for being here.

"Don't do that." She stared at the menu as they sat.

"Do what?"

"You know, poke a stick in a pit of vipers. Egg him on," she jerked her head to the side. Jack was still at the bar, and his stare was burning holes in her psyche. She glanced up and placed her drink order, took a deep breath and focused on the handsome man across from her. If this whole getting beyond Jack thing was going to pick up steam, she knew she had to give it a boot in the ass herself. It was the perfect night to do it.

But did she really want it? Her tingling scalp and still zinging nerve endings told her that her former fiancé still sat at the bar and those deep blue eyes trained right on her. She closed her eyes, then opened them again, and gave Craig a huge smile.

It took every ounce of Jack's inner reserve not to crush the glass in his fist as he watched that
kid
put a hand on Sara's back and guide her to a table. He tried not to watch as the smarmy little shit pulled out her chair, but his eyeballs would not cooperate. His jaw ached already from keeping it clenched nearly twenty-four-seven, ever since she had left and he'd been battling the city. He'd been pouring all his sexual energy into banging Heather's brains out for the last several weeks. He still twitched with a near constant dissatisfaction.

Shit.

He made himself ill. He wouldn't let his own sister within a country mile of someone like him. How could he blame Blake for "protecting" her? Christ. He perused his smartphone email inbox on autopilot; ignoring the near-constant stream of dirty texts from the woman he'd swear he'd called Sara at least once the night before. Sighing deeply, he looked up and straight into a pair of eyes as green as the woman in question. Instead of the usual raw hatred, there was pity in Blake Thornton's eyes as he pushed a fresh glass of bourbon across the bar.

"Thanks." He turned, not wanting anything resembling conversation with Sara's brother right now. He had never, in his entire life felt more torn or confused about what to do or how to act. He kept watching her, sipping his drink, flashes of memory shooting through his brain like daggers. How in the hell he'd messed this up so completely, he still wondered. Yes, it was in his nature. He couldn't be trusted, could he? Certainly, if his behavior recently with the eager Heather was any indication, "pining away" for the woman across the room from him, the one who had so captured his very soul, was obviously not on the agenda. He shot Heather a quick text:

"Not tonight. Too tired. Talk tomorrow."

"Jack!" He turned to see his old friend, Rob Frietag, walking his way. Rob had been a serious cohort in the deflowering of campus virgins back in their college days. The guy had swung both ways then too, but it hadn't been an issue for them. Women had fallen for their one-two punch; tall, blonde or dark, and charming, like leaves from a tree, once upon a time. He grinned.

"Pull up a chair. I could use a hard punch in the nose right now. You game?'

Rob shot an odd look towards Sara's brother, who stood at the other end of the long bar, staring at them. "Huh, might make two of us. I seem to have done a bit of screwing up a relationship with a member of the Thornton family myself."

Jack rolled his eyes and laughed as the other man eased himself into a barstool. His heart still pounded and spine tingled at being so close to Sara again, but unable to do anything but watch her laugh and lean into the surfer kid who kept reaching out to touch her arm, shoulder. Jack closed his eyes then refocused on Rob.

"Dude, you have no idea."

As the dinner progressed, Sara forced herself to be calm, to focus on Craig's dark brown eyes, to listen to his soft Southern drawl as he answered questions she didn't remember asking. She flinched when she felt his palm on her knee.

"Earth to Sara." His voice was soft. She sat back and pushed her plate away, no longer hungry. "You still there?"

She smiled at him, letting his smooth, handsome face and calm manner soothe her rattled nerves. "Sorry. Lame."

"Nah, long as you're buying, I'm good." He shot a look over to the bar. Sara wrestled her rapidly rising ire.

"Okay so I'm nipping this in the bud right now Robinson."

"What's that, dear?" He finished off his blue cheese burger and wiped his mouth. She found her eyes drawn to his lips, suddenly hypnotized by the memory of them on hers.

"The dick-measuring thing you're doing with my ex-fiancé over there, that's what. Cut the shit out."

He raised an eyebrow and put an arm over the back of his chair, letting his long legs stretch out to the side of their table. She suddenly relaxed as if he'd flipped a switch in her psyche. It was she had no business messing around with him, but there was a buzzing need in her brain that she knew, damn good and well, was the connection she shared with the man currently laughing his head off with her brother's lover. She also knew she had to find an outlet for it if she were to sever that connection with Jack once and for all. She leaned in on her elbows. He frowned at her.

"Then stop flirting with me. You're just as bad as he is." She sat up and glared at him. Familiar words, and ones she did not need to hear right now.

"I am not." His wide grin made her scalp tingle. "Okay, I am. But not for his benefit."

"Then let's get out of here." He leaned over and grabbed her hand, staring at her so hard that, for the first time in an hour, she forgot about the man across the room. "It's making me antsy with him over there, I won't kid you." He stood, held out a hand. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to, you know," he shrugged as she stared at him.

"Act like you're a dog who felt the need to piss on my leg?" He laughed at that, and hauled her to her feet, pressing her close.

"Yeah, I forgot for a minute to hide my inner dog from your inner bitch." She let him kiss her, just a light press of lips together before stepping away. "Let's get ice cream or something, a movie, I don't care, something so I can prove my good intentions." She smiled, and without a glance at the bar's direction, let him guide her out into the cooling fall evening.

As they walked past the bank of windows along the bar where Jack still sat, he grabbed her hand. "I don't share well Sara, I won't kid you. So when you're of him, I'd like to show you how a real man acts, but until then, ice cream is on me." She gasped when he put her hand to his lips, kissed it, and then kept his long fingers threaded through hers as they made their way down the street.

A sudden light went on in her head, spread its warmth down her spine and caught a slow burn as she watched the handsome young man flirt naturally with the girl dipping ice cream. She followed the line of his shoulders down to a trim waist, firm ass, and long legs and let herself imagine a moment, held by him, easing the ache in her body she should exorcise. Rid herself of Jack's hold on her for good. When he glanced at her, as sensing her stare, his eyes widened at her pointed look, then feigned a look over his shoulder before pointing his own chest.

She laughed, leaned in and planted her own kiss on his firm lips. "Yeah you. You are too cute for your own damn good, you know?"

"Well, I've been told…" he handed her a cone towering with butter pecan. "But you'll have to find out for yourself I guess." He grinned, wiped a blob of cream from her nose and put his finger to his lips. She shivered.

Yes. This was the solution. She hoped. If not, she didn't know what she could do to get Jack out of her life, her head, and her heart. She sincerely hoped Craig wouldn't mind.

Chapter Eight

Sara shook her head to it as a familiar voice echoed through their office. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, praying she could shove him out of her head and her office by the sheer force of the pressure. It had nearly six weeks since that party, and the damn man appeared nearly daily in her space. She looked up at him as he leaned against the doorway of her cubicle. He smiled, sending signals she could not control clanging around in her brain. She gritted her teeth and turned away.

"How are you feeling, Sara?" he asked, an innocuous comment meant for public consumption. "You don't look so good." He moved closer, his eyes changing, losing their cold glitter. Realizing what he was really asking, she straightened up in her chair, observing him, fascinated by his seeming interest in the current condition of her body.

"Hey, you lost your touch? You never tell a lady she's not looking too good." Sara tossed her hair back. "I'm fine maybe a little more tired than usual," she told him, unable to resist. "Can't figure it out, really, but I'm sure it's nothing." She turned to her desk, brain spinning, counting subconsciously, backwards from her last period.

Before she could finish her frenzied mental calculations, she sensed another male presence behind her, and groaned inwardly, wondering what the hell she had done to bring on this testosterone battle. Craig walked into her cubicle past Jack and leaned up against her desk. He addressed her, ignoring Jack completely.

"Hey, I hope you don't have plans for tonight." She looked up at him, surprised. They'd had a few pseudo-dates. She'd been to see his band a couple of times. Her plan of attack–to seduce him, get what she needed to shake her physical craving, had been thwarted time and again. He would not engage with her beyond friendly "buddy" status. Stubborn man.

"No. Not really," she told him, her voice weak, the tension between the two men nearly suffocating her.

"Good, I'll pick you up at your place, say, seven?" he leaned down and kissed her lips, softly, quickly. "Bring your swim suit," he whispered into her ear.

Craig walked out, nodding at Jack without speaking, which left her with her thoughts, wondering if she even had a presentable swimsuit, when she should have started her period. She was acutely aware when Jack quit staring at her when he turned and left the building without another word to anyone.

She hurried home at six, wondering what the hell Craig had planned. She found a sexy bikini and shoved it down in a bag, with a hairbrush and an extra set of clothes.

Craig rang the doorbell at seven sharp, and she walked out, the bag over her shoulder, having calculated that her period had appeared on schedule two weeks ago and so Mr. Gordon was off the hook.

He smiled at her, that lazy, relaxed way that caused her heart to flutter with renewed purpose. No, he didn't set off fireworks in her like Jack did. But that
was
the whole point. She decided to take the direct method. "Why does this feel awkward all of a sudden?" He glanced at her before starting the engine.

"What does?"

She swallowed hard. "Well, I've been trying to get in your pants for weeks now and you are either a virgin or I smell bad. So, I don't know where this is headed tonight, but I'm interested to find out."

He put a firm, possessive hand on her thigh. She stared at it. "So what is this about? You tell me." He leaned over then, pressed his lips to hers before she could answer, the hand now behind her neck, holding her close. The firm, gentle connection calmed her. None of the frantic need she had always had with Jack emerged, but that familiar slow burn ignited in her belly. One she recognized, and welcomed. She broke the kiss. His lovely brown eyes darkened as the silence swirled around them.

"I need this Craig. But I doubt I can offer much more than, well…" She pulled out of his embrace and stared straight ahead, hating the sound of her own voice. "I need you as a friend, but, um, sure could use some benefits. Does that make…mmph…?" She gasped when he yanked her close again over the console, owning her with a kiss that promised much more. She melted, threaded her fingers in his hair and let it take away the yawning emptiness she'd lived with for over a month.