A Sure Thing?

Chapter 9

Relaxed, rejuvenated, and all but purring from her deluxe facial, Jilly walked toward the resort's bar where she and Matt had agreed to meet for an after-spa drink before returning to the room to ready themselves for dinner with Jack.

She sat in an overstuffed chair at a small, round table that afforded her a good view of the lobby area so she wouldn't miss Matt. She checked her watch. Good. She had at least ten or fifteen minutes before Matt showed up. After slipping her cell phone from her purse, she quickly dialed Kate's number. Her friend picked up on the second ring.

"I've been dying to hear from you," Kate said. "How's it going?"

Jilly blew out a breath. "Remember how you suggested that maybe I should indulge in an affair with Matt this weekend? That it would satisfy my curiosity so then I'd be able to forget him? And that as long as we both went into it understanding it would be over after this weekend, everything would be fine?"

"Yes, yes, and yes. I remember perfectly. So? How are things?"

"Good and bad."

"Good first."

"You can't call me Rusty anymore."

"Ooohhh. So what can I call you?"

"How about Lucky?"

"How lucky?"

"Hit-the-jackpot lucky."

Kate gave a low whistle. "So what's the bad part?"

"The plan to satisfy my curiosity so then I'd be able to forget him isn't working out all that well. My curiosity is far from satisfied, and I think it's going to prove a lot more difficult than I'd thought to drop this man off my radar screen after tomorrow."

"I see. So you like him."

Jilly pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm afraid so."

"Well, you know, there's no law that says you can't continue this once you return to work."

"Yes, there is. Engaging in an affair at work is professional suicide. Especially since whoever wins the ARC account is going to be the other one's boss. I get queasy just thinking about that scenario. Besides, there's more to it than just that. Matt just isn't my type."

"Oh. So you only like him when you're both naked?"

Jilly frowned. If only that were true. "Not exactly."

"Well, what's wrong with him?"

Frustration edged through Jilly-at Matt for causing her all this turmoil, and at herself for allowing him to. "He's just… a very take-charge guy. You know how I don't like that."

"So he's stepping on your independence."

"Exactly!"

"How?"

"He's… crowding me. Like today, we went out and he offered to pay for my lunch. And then he scheduled a deluxe facial at the spa's resort for me. And then he bought me a bottle of wine. I am perfectly capable of purchasing my own meal, my own wine, and arranging my own facials."

"Of course you are. That bastard. Does his cruelty never end? You want me to drive out there and kick his smarmy ass?"

Jilly squeezed her eyes shut. "Ha, ha. Point taken. But it's small stuff like that which shows the sort of person he is."

"Thoughtful and romantic?"

"If you'll recall, things with Aaron started out nicely as well. Then the next thing I knew, he expected me to rearrange my life to revolve around his."

"Yes, but if you'll recall, Aaron also eventually proved not to have a thoughtful or romantic bone in his body."

"Hey, whose side are you on?"

"Yours, silly. But I'd hate to see you throw away something that might turn out to be just what you're looking for."

"But I'm not looking for anything!"

"Everyone is looking for something, Jilly. I clearly remember you saying you'd snap up the right guy if he came along."

"Well, Matt is not the right guy."

"You know what I think your problem is?" Kate asked in a serious voice.

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"You should be, because I don't think you're going to like the answer. Shall I continue anyway?"

"Might as well," Jilly groused. "What else are best friends for but to make you feel miserable?"

"I think that you're confused and out of sorts because you really like his man and you didn't expect to. You suspect you could easily more than like him, and that scares you-for all the reasons caring for someone scares anybody, but also because a relationship with Matt could negatively impact your career. And you, more than anyone I know, define yourself by your career."

"Okay, what are you-psychic?"

"No. I'm in love. I know the signs."

Panic fluttered in Jilly's stomach. "Good grief, don't even whisper the 'L' word. That would be a complete disaster."

"Listen, that's what I thought about Ben. And when I realized I was falling in love with him, I was scared to death. But I took a chance, put my heart on the line, and look how great things turned out."

"I am not falling in love with Matt."

"If you say so."

"I say so. I'm just annoyed at myself for liking him." Liking him waaaaay too much. "And annoyed at him for being so… likable. Damn it, I don't want to like him. I want to forget him."

"Well, the only way to forget about a man is to find another man."

"Excellent. I'm making that job one as soon as I get home. You'll help me, right?"

"Of course. Maybe you should even look around at the resort. Might be someone right under your nose."

"Maybe I will."

"I do have to warn you, Jilly-there's one hitch to the plan of forgetting a man by finding another man."

"What's that?"

"It only works if you aren't in love with the guy you're trying to forget."

"Then we shouldn't have any problem, because I am so not in love with Matt."

"Good."

"Fine."

"So are you going to sleep with him tonight?"

"Of course. I'm not in love with him, but I'm seriously in lust with him. In fact, I'd better go. I'm expecting him soon."

"All right. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, and call me when you get home tomorrow. We'll plan to hit a few clubs after work on Tuesday so the forgetting can officially begin."

"Sounds terrific. Bye." Jilly disconnected and slipped her phone into her purse.

Sounds terrific? She blew out a long sigh. If only. Unfortunately, going clubbing to forget about Matt sounded the exact opposite of terrific.

Matt walked toward the bar feeling like a new man.

Yup, an hour-long massage had worked out all his kinks and tensions and put everything back into perspective. All he'd needed was an hour to himself, away from that distracting woman, to get his head back on straight.

The remainder of the weekend was clearly mapped out in his mind. Meet Jilly, have drink, go back to room, enjoy a quickie, get dressed, have dinner with Jack where he'd make subtle inroads in his quest to win the ARC account, go back to the room with Jilly, enjoy another bout-or two, possibly three-of sex, sleep, have one more possible bout of morning sex, pack and get out of Dodge. Then business as usual. Perfect. His plan was like a well-oiled machine.

Unfortunately his well-oiled machine suffered a cog in its wheel as he rounded the corner and the bar came into view. His gaze instantly zeroed in on Jilly. Jilly, dressed in a pale blue turtleneck and loose-fitting, casual athletic pants, sitting alone at small, round table. Jilly, with her dark, shiny hair curling around her shoulders. Jilly, smiling and laughing-with the guy sitting alone at the table next to hers. A guy who, Matt noted grimly, was looking at Jilly as if she were an ice-cream cone from which he wanted to take a big, long lick.

There was no mistaking the unpleasant sensation that hit him like a punch in the heart. Jealousy, pure and simple. And not simply because the guy was showing interest in Jilly-while Matt didn't like it, he couldn't blame him. No, it was more the fact that Jilly was smiling and laughing with the jerk instead of using one of her black belt moves to toss him onto his flirtatious ass.

She's not yours, man, his inner voice chimed in.

Like hell. Maybe she wasn't his for the long run, but she was his for the remainder of this weekend. And he wasn't about to share her with that damn Brad Pitt look-alike.

Drawing a deep, calming breath, he walked toward the bar. As he neared their tables, the Pitt look-alike rose and passed her a business card. "I'd love to stay and talk, but I'm meeting an associate at a restaurant in town," Matt overheard him say with regret in his voice. "My office is just a few blocks from yours. Call me if you'd like to get together."

Pitt-boy moved off. Bludgeoning back his jealousy, Matt unclenched his jaw and walked the last few feet to the table, then sat down across from Jilly.

She greeted him with a smile. "Hi."

"Hi." He jerked his head toward the retreating man. "Who's that?" Damn it, he hadn't meant to ask the second he sat down. But at least he'd managed to keep his voice casual.

She gave a nonchalant shrug and, much to his annoyance, slipped the guy's business card into her purse. "Just a guy who was sitting at the next table. His name is Brad and he's a dentist. His office is close to Maxximum's."

Matt resisted the urge to look heavenward. Figures the guy's name really was Brad. Or maybe he'd changed his name, from something really nerdy to Brad to match his looks.

"A dentist, huh? Well, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Why he eyeballed you like he wanted to clean your teeth-with his tongue."

She blinked in obvious surprise, then raised her eyebrows. "Did it ever occur to you that if he looked at me that way it might be because he found me attractive-not because he was a dentist?"

Damn it, he felt like an ass. A disgruntled ass. A jealous, disgruntled ass. He should have kept his mouth shut. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. It was very obvious that he found you attractive." Giving himself a severe mental shake, he forced a smile. "Can't fault the guy on his taste."

"Thank you." For several seconds her gaze searched his. "For a minute there you sounded like a jealous lover."

It was impossible to tell from her tone if that idea annoyed or pleased her. Opting for the unvarnished truth, he said, "I am a jealous lover-right now. Starting Tuesday, I won't be, but for the short remainder of this three-day weekend, you're mine." He shot her a questioning look. "Unless you've had a change of heart?"

"No," she said quickly.

A breath he hadn't even realized he held eased from him, and he refused to examine the depth of his relief.

"So, how was your massage?" she asked.

I need another one, thanks to Brad the dentist. "It was great. How about the facial?"

She closed her eyes and gave an exaggerated shiver. "Incredible. I feel like a new woman."

"Yeah? Hard to believe you could feel any better than you already did." Reaching out, he grasped her hand, and brought it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her palm, liking the way her eyes darkened at the gesture. "I vote we skip the drinks and go upstairs so you can show me all that gorgeous, pampered skin."

Her gaze skimmed over him in a way that hiked his blood pressure into the danger zone. "Hmmm. Will you show me all your pampered, relaxed muscles in return?"

"You show me yours, I'll show you mine. Whaddaya say?"

"I say showing is good."

They made their way, hand in hand, to the elevator. Impatience pulled at him, and his hands all but itched to touch her. He couldn't recall ever wanting to touch a woman this badly. Apparently she was suffering from the same impatience because the instant the elevator doors closed, surrounding them in privacy, she pressed him against the wall, and pulled his head down to hers.

He kissed her with all the raw, edgy, pent-up need pounding through him, need sharpened all the more by her urgency.

She rubbed herself against his erection, then leaned back to look at him with a devilish, smoky-eyed expression. "Uh-oh. I don't think your massage worked. You're obviously not nearly as relaxed as you should be."

"All your fault, I'm afraid."

"Then you must allow me to fix it."

"Consider me at your disposal."

She wound her arms around his neck, and arched against him, her tongue dancing with his. His hands skimmed under the thin cotton of her shirt to touch her warm, soft skin. A low, pleasure-filled moan vibrated in her throat, and he kissed his way down her neck to touch his tongue to the sound.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. They circled down the hallway, kissing, hands searching. He slipped the key card from his back pocket and managed to open the door, not an easy task with Jilly's distracting hands sliding under his shirt.

Heart knocking against his ribs, he pushed the door closed behind them with his foot. As she had in the elevator, she urged his back against the wall. Breaking off their frantic kiss, she grabbed the ends of his Polo shirt, and he raised his arms so she could pull it over his head. The striped cotton fell to the floor. When he reached for her, she grabbed his wrists and gently pressed them against the wall.

Their gazes locked and he groaned. With her lips wet and reddened from their kiss, her eyes glittering with desire, her hair messed from his hands, she looked aroused, tempting and sinful.

"Let me touch you," she whispered.

He had to swallow to find his voice. "I'm all yours, sweetheart."

A sexy half smile curved her lips, and in a heartbeat she switched tempo on him, shifting from fast forward to slow seduction. She nipped soft kisses along his jaw and neck while her fingertips glided up and down his torso. His eyes slid shut, and he had to press his fists against the wall to keep them from reaching for her.

She kissed her way across his chest, dragging her tongue across his nipples, then drawing them into the warmth of her mouth, all while her fingers played gently over his abdomen. She licked and kissed her way lower, her mouth leaving a trail of damp heat. When her fingers brushed beneath the waistband of his jeans, his muscles jerked and a low groan pushed past his lips. Her silky hair brushed over his stomach as she sunk to her knees and unfastened his jeans.

Opening his eyes, he looked down and watched her free his erection then slowly draw him into her mouth. He hissed in a sharp breath, and slipped his fingers into her hair, absorbing the erotic, arousing sight of her lips gliding over him, the incredible feel of her tongue slowly circling him, the sensation of her hands cupping him, her fingertips brushing over his sensitive skin.

She drew him deeper into her mouth, dragging a growl from his throat. His entire body tightened with the need to come, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold off his orgasm much longer.

Grasping her upper arms, he urged her upward. "Can't take anymore," he whispered against her mouth, as he toed off his loafers. "Want you. Need you. Now."

Without a word, she stepped back and yanked her turtleneck over her head and unfastened her bra. While he shoved down his jeans and boxers and stepped out of them, she kicked off her flat shoes then skimmed her drawstring cotton pants and lace panties down her hips. Naked, she entwined their fingers, then led him to the bed.

"Lie down," she whispered. She quickly grabbed a condom from their new supply. Straddling his thighs, she tore the packet, rolled the latex over his erection, then slowly sank herself onto him.

He gritted his teeth against the sweet torture of her leisurely movements as she lifted herself until he almost left her body, then slowly glided down, burying him deep in her snug, velvety heat once again.

He palmed her full breasts, his fingers grazing her taut nipples, his senses exploding from the sight of her astride him, the feel of her inner walls surrounding him, squeezing him, the scent of their mutual arousal rising between them. His gaze riveted on the sight of his erection sliding into her body, and his fight for control was irrevocably lost.

Grasping her hips, he reared up to a sitting position, and drew one of her erect nipples into his mouth. Her nails dug into his shoulders, she arched her back, a long moan rumbling in her throat. He felt her tighten around him, grind against him, and his orgasm ripped through him. Burying his face between her breasts, he held on tight and whispered her name like a prayer while the tremors shook him.

When his breathing returned to normal, he lifted his head. Her head hung down loosely, like a rag doll left in the rain, shiny skeins of tangled dark hair obscuring her face. Touching his fingers to her jaw, he urged her chin up. Their eyes met, and the area surrounding his heart went hollow, only to then fill with a sensation unlike anything he'd ever before experienced.

He released her hips, then traced his fingers over her face with hands that were noticeably unsteady, like a blind man seeing her features through touch. He felt the strong need to say something, but a lump of emotion he couldn't, didn't even want to, try to explain clogged his throat. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against hers and murmured the only word he could manage-the one that seemed to sum up all he was feeling.

"Jilly."

Her fingers skimmed through his hair, and her warm breath brushed past his lips. She said only word in reply, but it was enough.

"Matt."

An hour later, Jilly gave herself one last quick check in the full-length mirror before they left the room to join Jack for dinner. Dressed in a tailored, white, French-cuffed shirt tucked into her favorite black, slim skirt that skimmed her knees, and strappy Ralph Lauren heels, she looked calm, cool, and professional. From the neck down.

From the neck up, she looked like a woman who had just been thoroughly and magnificently loved. Even her prim chignon could not disguise the glow in her eyes, the rosy flush of her complexion, the slight swelling of her lips. She might as well have pasted a sign on her forehead that read, Yes, I just did it-twice, in fact. And I can't wait to do it again.

Matt stepped behind her, and their gazes met in the mirror. Heat whooshed through her at the barely banked fire in his serious, dark-blue gaze. Sliding his hands around her waist, he drew her back against him, then bent his head and nuzzled her neck with his warm lips. She really needed to step away from him. Instead she arched her neck to give him better access.

"You look beautiful, Jilly," he murmured against her ear, sending heated shivers down her spine. His hands skimmed upward, cupping her breasts through her shirt, stalling her breath. "And you smell incredible. What is that scent you wear?"

Okay, she'd tell him as soon as she remembered how to speak. Drawing a deep breath, she said, "It's called Clean Laundry."

He lifted his head and looked at her reflection in the mirror, his surprise evident. "You're kidding."

"Nope." No need to tell him that his distracting touch had rendered her incapable of doing anything as complicated as "kidding."

"That's exactly what you smell like. Clean laundry that's been hanging outdoors in the sunshine."

She managed a smile at his reflection, trying not to concentrate on the sight and feel of his hands cupping her breasts. "Thus the name of the cologne. The same perfume company makes several interesting scents I like. Another favorite is Angel Food Cake."

"Sounds delicious." His teeth gently closed over her earlobe. "Good enough to eat."

She briefly squeezed her eyes shut, allowing herself to wallow in the pleasure the images that evoked, before she turned to face him.

"Listen," she said, trying but spectacularly failing to ignore his erection pressing against her and his hands running slowly down her back, "if you don't stop touching me and looking at me like that, we'll never make it to dinner. And even if we do, Jack will know exactly how we've been spending our time."

"Since he met that woman, it's pretty clear he's spending his time exactly the same way."

"And that's fine. But this dinner is business. Let's keep it that way." Grasping his hands, she forcibly planted them against his sides, then wagged her finger at him. "No touching until we're back in the room."

He blew out a long sigh. "I guess that means no kissing, either."

"That's right."

"Fondling?"

"Out of the question."

He shot her a mock frown. "Is looking at you okay?"

"Sure. As long as you don't look at me in that way."

"What way?"

"In that 'I'd like to spread you between two slices of bread and gobble you up' way."

"Hmmm… yeah. That's exactly what I want for dinner." He leaned back against the wall, shot her a half smile and a wink. "Any chance you're on the menu?"

Oh, boy. This was bad. She was a total sucker for a sexy guy winking at her. It was irrational, ridiculous, idiotic, and inexplicable-but there it was. That wink turned her insides to mush. They needed to get out of the room. Now. Before she gave into temptation and removed his pale blue cashmere pullover and navy dress pants and reminded herself of just how good he tasted.

After snatching up her purse, she headed toward the door. "I'm on the dessert menu. But you have to be a good boy. Remember-no dessert until dinner is finished."

The ride in the elevator was a torturous exercise in restraint. They stood on opposite ends, staring at each other in silence. Finally Matt cleared his throat. "I just want you to know that even though I want you naked, I realize this is a business dinner and will behave myself accordingly."

"Excellent. And even though I want you naked, I realize this is a business dinner and will behave myself accordingly."

He erased the distance between them with two long strides, bracketing his arms on either side of her. Only inches separated them, and although he didn't actually touch her, the warmth emanating from his body heated her as if he'd lit a fire under her skirt. "But after dinner, all bets are off, Jilly." The low words whispered close to her ear, sending desire shuddering through her.

Damn him. No fair. Why hadn't he stayed on his side of the elevator? Now she was all flushed. And distracted. Clearly he'd shifted into his take-charge mode to have the last word. Typical.

The elevator stopped and he stepped away from her. They crossed the lobby in silence, their shoes tapping against the polished marble. As the maitre d' led them toward the table, she looked at Matt over her shoulder.

"Matt?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not wearing any underwear."