A Sure Thing?

Chapter 5

If you beat me, I'll give you anything you want, Jilly.

Matt's provocative words reverberated through her mind, whipping up a tornado of sensual images, proving beyond any doubt what she wanted. Forcing those images aside, she murmured, "Anything I want? Excellent. I hope you've got ten grand lying around that you won't miss."

"Ah, but I'm banking on you using that sense of fair play you pride yourself on." The expression in his dark blue eyes curled her toes inside her boots. "I'll give you whatever you want, Jilly. Within reason."

Oh, boy. She knew what she wanted-or at least her screaming hormones did. They wanted a bout of sweaty, mindless sex with Matt. Good grief, it was only about seventeen degrees outside, but she felt like she was melting from the inside out-and he hadn't even touched her. What the heck would happen if he put his hands on her? Don't even think about it.

As they neared the end of the parking lot, he paused beside a shiny, black Lexus that had been cleaned of snow, pulled a key ring from his pocket, then clicked open the automatic door locks.

Opening the driver's door, he set his bag on the beige leather seat. "In the spirit of fair play, would you like to leave your bag of candy in my car?"

"Sure." She smiled. "If you'll let me hold the keys."

"Now who's being suspicious?"

"I'm not going to risk you holding my marshmallows hostage."

"I won't have to. I'm going to win them fair and square."

"Then you have nothing to worry about."

"How do I know you won't hold my car hostage? A box of candy versus my Lexus." He shook his head. "Doesn't seem quite fair."

"You haven't tasted these chocolates." Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a red and green striped box and flipped the lid. Sliding off her purple wool glove, she picked up a chocolate square and held it out to him. "Taste."

Instead of taking his hands out of his pocket, he leaned down and took a bite of the morsel. His lips brushed over her fingertips, freezing her in place at the same time fire shot up her arm.

Straightening to his full height, he chewed slowly, his gaze steady on hers, while she stared with an expression that probably resembled a starstruck adolescent who'd just found herself standing next to Ben Affleck. Good grief, Matt Davidson possessed the sexiest mouth she'd ever seen. And seeing it wrapped around her chocolate was almost more than she could stand. Before she could recover, however, he reached out, lightly clasped her wrist between his strong fingers, then brought her hand to his mouth. Staring into her eyes, he gently drew the other half of the chocolate into his mouth. His tongue brushed over her fingertips and desire hit her so hard she felt woozy.

She watched him chew, half her attention fixed on his beautiful mouth, the other half on the pulse-quickening feel of his skin touching hers where he still held her wrist.

After he swallowed, he said softly, "Delicious."

Unable to find her voice, she merely nodded.

"That sample makes me want more."

Yeah, me, too. She drew in a much-needed breath, slipped her hand from his, and gave herself a mental shake. Flipping the box closed, she resettled the candy in her shopping bag, then placed the bag on the front seat. "I will refrain from saying I told you so. Unfortunately for you, that's all you get."

He smiled. "Until I win."

She smiled back and held out her hand. "Keys?"

He closed the car door, clicked the remote to lock the doors, then dropped the keys in her palm. She tucked the key ring in her pocket, then resolutely slipped her glove back on. After offering him a jaunty salute, she jogged the short distance to the end of the parking lot.

Matt took a few seconds to pull in a breath and get his raging libido under control. His palm still tingled from the warmth of her skin. His head still swam from the clean laundry scent that wafted from her skin, tempting him to lean closer and breathe her in. His groin still felt tight where his damn jeans were strangling him, and his-

Splat!

He looked down. And his chest was covered in snow.

Another snowball smacked him on the shoulder, knocking him from his stupor. Looking up, he saw her, half-hidden behind a tree about twenty feet away. "Hey!" he protested, starting forward. "We haven't gone over the rules."

"The one with the most snow on him loses," she called. Another missile caught him in the thigh, and he made a mad dash for a slender tree that stood about fifteen feet away from hers. She hit him in the ass with another snowball before he ducked for cover.

"No fair," he yelled, furiously packing a snowball, and cursing that he wasn't wearing gloves. "I didn't know we were starting."

"European rules. They're rough. Get used to it." A snowball hit his tree trunk just above his head, spraying snow on his face as the missile broke apart. Jeez, the woman had skill. She had aim like a major league pitcher. The Mets could use her.

He built up his arsenal to twelve hastily made snowballs, managing to avoid most of the barrage that she launched at him.

"What do you have, sixteen arms?" he asked. "How are you making those snowballs so fast?"

"Ha! Like I'm going to tell you. But the fact that I'm wearing gloves helps."

Another ball of white whizzed by his ear. "How about giving me one of those gloves?"

"Forget it. Not when there's chocolate on the line."

"What happened to fair play and all that?"

"All's fair in snowball war."

Peeking around the tree trunk, he took aim and threw, catching her on the arm. "Take that."

A snowball exploded just below his chin. He glared at her, and she favored him with an evil chuckle.

"You're going down, Davidson."

"Not without a fight."

Over the next ten minutes, he managed to get in a few good shots, but with his fingers growing numb, and her freakin' dead-eye aim, he had to face the fact that he only had one chance of winning. Gathering up his last few snowballs, he crouched low and ran like hell toward her.

"I'm storming the citadel," he yelled, furiously throwing his remaining weapons.

"You're toast," she yelled back, pelting him at close range with a double whammy that caught him in the shoulder and the chin.

With a low growl, he caught her around the waist as she bent to grab another handful of snow. She squealed, and tried to break away, throwing him off balance. Unable to catch himself, he fell forward, landing half on top of her just as she fell, face down, in the snow.

He immediately pushed himself up onto his hands. "Jeez, Jilly, are you okay?"

She rolled over and glared at him through snowflake flecked lashes. "Yeah, I'm swell."

"Did I hurt you?"

She wiped her wet face with the back of her glove, but as her gloves were wet, it didn't help much. "Only my pride."

He exhaled his relief. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tackle you-you threw me off balance." His gaze wandered over her and he grinned. "Looks like I win."

Her eyes goggled. "You? You, who couldn't hit the side of an elephant with a handful of rice? You, who couldn't hit water if you fell out of a boat?"

"Ah, but you said that the one with the most snow on him loses, and you-" his gaze traveled pointedly down her snow-covered front "-clearly have more snow on you."

"Only because you flung me face down in the snow."

"I didn't fling. I tripped. And only because you squealed and flailed your arms around like a girl."

"That wasn't a squeal, it was a shout of surprise at being manhandled by the enemy. And I wasn't flailing, I was trying to regain my balance after you knocked me off my feet, you big klutz. And here's a news flash for you-I am a girl."

He looked down into those big, golden-brown eyes, and it suddenly struck him more forcefully than ever that she was very much a girl. And that he was very much a guy. And that all his guy stuff was pressed against the length of all her girl stuff.

Desire sucker-punched him in the gut. She must have read it in his eyes because she suddenly went completely still beneath him, and awareness and heat flared in her gaze.

He meant to shift off her, surely he did, but his muscles refused to move. Still, certainly he would have pushed himself off her-but then her gaze dropped to his mouth.

That look touched him like a caress, and he bit back a groan of want. Before all the reasons he shouldn't raised their voices, he leaned down and touched his mouth to hers. Certainly he meant it only to be a light kiss, experimental, but after a few seconds her lips-those beautiful, soft, tempting lips-parted, and her tongue brushed against his. And all bets were off.

He moaned-or was that her?-and slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue tasting all the warm, secret lusciousness of her. Every part of him that had been icy cold only seconds earlier, heated like he'd stepped into a brushfire. Clearly she'd sampled her candy earlier because she tasted like chocolate-sweet and delicious. And everything about her, from the feel of her pressed against him to her luscious taste, made him want to devour her.

The frosty, wet wool of her gloved fingers brushed his nape, shooting a shiver down his spine, and rousing his drugged senses enough to remind him of where he was. And whom he was with.

Slowly lifting his head, he looked down into eyes darkened with arousal, yet flickering with the same wary expression he knew was reflected in his own eyes.

He needed to say something-preferably something along the lines of boy, that was a big mistake we'd better not let happen again-but damned if he could find his voice. All he could do was stare at her and fight the overwhelming urge to kiss her again. And again.

Finally she cleared her throat. "I have a confession to make."

"What's that?" he said in a croaky, husky voice he didn't recognize.

"I'd… wondered."

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Well, in that case, I have a confession to make as well. I'd wondered, too."

"Finding out probably wasn't a great idea."

"Right."

"We can sum that kiss up in four words: severe lack of judgment."

"Right."

"And now that we've satisfied our mutual curiosity, we can just…?" Her voice trailed off, and her gaze searched his, as if seeking the correct ending to her sentence.

"We can just forget about it." His lips said the words, but he had a sinking feeling that if he lived to be a hundred, he'd never forget that kiss.

"Forget about it. Exactly. That would definitely be best."

"Definitely."

Forcing himself to move, he rolled off her, then rose to his feet. Extending his hands, he helped her to stand.

"Your hands are like ice, Matt."

He looked down at his reddened fingers with a rueful expression. "Yeah. I think rigor mortis has set in-that's Latin for 'I should have worn gloves.'" He thrust his hands into his jacket pockets, telling himself it was to warm them, but it was really to keep from drawing her into his arms and seeing what kiss number two would be like.

Glancing down, he saw a perfectly made snowball resting at the base of the tree. "You forgot one," he said, indicating the missile with a jerk of his head.

She noted the snowball, then smiled at him. "That was the one that was going to finish you off."

"Much as I hate to admit it, you'd already finished me off. If there were an Olympic snowball fight team, you'd bring home the gold. Where'd you learn to throw snowballs like that?"

"I played centerfield for my high school softball team. We won four state championships." She batted her eyelashes. "Did I neglect to mention that?"

"Uh-uh. And if I weren't so impressed by your ability, I'd be royally pissed. Personally, I think you should give up advertising and try out for the major leagues."

"Hmmm. That would be one way to eliminate me from the competition."

He laid one frozen hand over his heart. "I say that strictly as a baseball fan whose beloved sport is badly in need of your skills."

"I'm sure you like to tell yourself that."

"Well, one thing I don't like to tell myself is that you whipped my butt, but you did." He bowed from the waist. "I am vanquished." His gaze drifted over her lips and he pushed aside the disturbing thought that she'd conquered him in more ways than one.

She looked smug, but at least she didn't say I told you so. "Looks like you're going to have to give me whatever I want."

"Within reason," he reminded her. "I guess that wasn't such a smart wager on my account. Of course, I didn't know I was dealing with a ringer."

"If you'd asked, I would have told you. I'm good at a lot of things."

I bet you are. And just thinking about some of the things he'd bet she was good at rushed blood to his groin.

She pulled his key ring from her pocket and, twirling the shiny silver circle around her finger, led the way back to his Lexus.

After retrieving her shopping bag from the front seat, she tossed him the keys. "I'm heading up to the room to change into dry clothes. I'm meeting Jack at three for a tour of the winery."

Something snaked through him that felt suspiciously like jealousy-and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was making inroads with the potential client. "I see. I'll be sure to stay out of your way."

"Thank you."

"I'm meeting Jack at five in the bar."

"All right. I'll be sure to stay out of your way-assuming you've done the same for me."

"You really are very suspicious, Jilly, especially given how I conceded that you won the snowball fight even though you had more snow on you."

She cocked a brow. "Do you want a rematch?"

"Hell, no. One slice of humble pie is quite enough, thank you."

A wicked gleam flickered in her eyes. "Speaking of things to eat, I think I'll have one of my delicious chocolate-covered marshmallows while I'm changing my clothes."

Damn, but she was cute. And alluring. And tempting. And sexy as hell. And he didn't want her to be. Arranging his features into a frown, he said, "Hey, I have a car. I could just drive to that candy store and buy my own box of chocolate-covered marshmallows. A bigger box."

"Ah, but they wouldn't taste as good as the ones in this box. Because these are the spoils of war. The sweets of victory. The ambrosia of triumph. The-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get the picture." He set his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle urging toward the resort. "Go on, scram with your chocolates, before I use my superior masculine strength and just grab them from you."

"I'd like to see you try." She smiled. "I'm a black belt."

"Figures."

"You're not coming back to the room?"

"I'll be along in a few minutes. I need to make a call on my cell. That'll give you enough time to change in privacy."

Their gazes met, and he swore something electric passed between them. Something intimate and knowing. Something that indicated they both knew that him being in the room while she changed her clothes was a temptation they shouldn't risk.

"See you," she said. With a breezy wave, she walked across the parking lot, then disappeared from his view through the revolving door.

When she was gone from his sight, he drew what seemed like his first easy breath in an hour. Thank God she was gone.

Too bad she wasn't forgotten.

Shortly after five o'clock that evening, Jilly stood near the window in her room, looking out over the snow-covered landscape. Jabbing Kate's phone number into her cell phone pad, Jilly tapped her foot and prayed Kate was home.

"I need help," Jilly said into the phone the instant Kate answered. "This weekend is turning into a complete disaster."

"Uh-oh. I'm listening. Spill it."

She told her the entire debacle-of her boss's trickery, and of being forced to share room 312 with Matt. She concluded by saying, "I just spent the last two hours touring the winery and going to a tasting with Jack Witherspoon, but this situation with Matt has me so frazzled, I couldn't tell you if I'd tasted a merlot or a chardonnay."

"Didn't I tell you?" Kate asked. "When you least anticipate it, something unexpected will happen and-poof!-your world will be turned upside down."

"Great. That doesn't help."

"Sorry. What does Matt look like with his shirt off?"

Jilly closed her eyes. "Incredible."

"Have you done more than look at him?"

"He kissed me."

"And?"

"I kissed him back."

"And?"

Jilly blew out a long breath. "It was the sort of kiss you'd like to have last for three weeks instead of three minutes. We're talking melting the polar ice caps."

"Oh, my. What was his reaction?"

"Let's just say he wasn't anatomically aloof." A frustrated moan rumbled in Jilly's throat. "The problem is, he's got my hormones all out of whack and I want to do a hell of a lot more than just kiss him."

"And that's a problem because…?"

"You even need to ask? Because we work together. Because he's the only thing standing between me and the ARC account. Because once I win this account, I'll be his boss. How awkward would that be if we'd slept together? And even if I could ignore all that, he's just not my type. He's one of those guys who always has to be in charge. You know how I feel about that."

"I do," Kate said softly. "But, Jilly, you're not your mom. I think you're losing sight of the fact that we're talking about sleeping with Matt, not walking down the aisle with him."

"True. But having an affair with him-God, that would make working together impossible-especially after it ended."

"Yes, but let's face it, with the sexual spark that's clearly crackling between you, it's going to be awkward anyway."

"But more awkward if I know what he looks like, and feels like, naked." A shiver ran through her at the wealth of images that sentence conjured up.

"Not necessarily. Maybe if you indulge in an affair with him this weekend, your curiosity will be satisfied, and then you'll be able to forget him. No more wondering, it'll be over and done with. As long as you both go into it understanding the ground rules."

"You mean like we'll satisfy our lust this weekend only, then never speak of this 'at the winery' incident again?"

"Exactly. Listen, Jilly. You really need a man to take care of you in the sack. Now. Before you dry up and blow away. And as far as I know, no one's kindled the least bit of interest in you in a long time. If Matt lights your fire, then maybe you should give him the matches-at least for this weekend."

"Okay, you're not really helping here. I called you to talk me out of this craziness."

"Oh. Sorry. How's this? You don't want to do something that could in any way mess with your career or make an already awkward situation worse. Matt is definitely Mr. Hands Off."

"Exactly." There. She knew talking with Kate would get her head back on straight.

"But there's no denying that you need a man."

"Much as I hate to agree with you, you're right. I won't be back at work until Tuesday. But as soon as I hit Manhattan, I'm looking for a man to put out this damn fire that Matt started."

"Atta girl. Between the two of us, we'll find you someone. I'll enlist Ben's help as well."

"Too bad Ben doesn't have a brother."

"He does. But he's a priest."

"Right. Too bad Ben doesn't have a brother who isn't a priest." Jilly sighed. "Still, even if we find me a man, there's this slight confidence problem."

"Meaning?"

Jilly dragged her free hand through her hair. "I'm… nervous. I haven't had sex in so long, you could nickname me Rusty."

Kate laughed. "Don't worry. It's as natural as breathing."

"Sure, says a woman who has fabulous sex on a regular basis."

"And soon you will be, too."

"I can only hope you're-" She turned around and her words cut off as if they'd been sliced with a machete.

Matt, looking tall, dark and delicious in a pair of charcoal-gray dress pants and a cream, crewneck sweater, leaned against the closed door, an unreadable expression on his face.

Mortification consumed her in one gulp, rushing a flush of heat up her back. "I… I've got to go," she said into the phone, her voice coming out in a croak.

"Uh-oh. Did he come in?"

"Yeah." The question was, when had he entered the room? Ack! How much had he overheard?

"Okay. Chin up. Take deep cleansing breaths, and if all else fails, take a cold shower. Call me tomorrow, all right?"

"You bet." Her gaze steady on Matt's, she slowly hung up the receiver. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"How long were you standing there?"

"Not long."

Her eyes narrowed. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing."

His blank expression gave nothing away. She prayed he was telling the truth. Otherwise she'd have to move to another state. Possibly another country. "Aren't you supposed to be with Jack now in the bar?"

"We'd just ordered drinks when I realized I forgot my cell phone. I'm expecting an important call." Pushing off from the door, he walked to the night table and picked up his small phone.

Her brows shot upward. Personally she would have let her voice mail pick up the call rather than interrupt time with a client as valuable as Jack, and it surprised her-and pricked her curiosity-that Matt wouldn't do the same. Who was he expecting such an important call from?

"Jack suggested that the three of us have dinner together this evening," Matt said.

"Oh? When did he say that?"

"About five minutes ago, in the bar. He told me to extend the invite to you if you were in the room."

Another embarrassed flush snaked up her back. "So he knows we're sharing a room?"

"Well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that if we're both in room 312-and the chances of there being more than one room 312 are pretty slim-we're roommates. I explained about the reservation mix-up. He thought it was pretty funny."

"Yeah. It's hysterical." She shot him a narrow-eyed look. "What if I hadn't been in the room?"

"Jack would have called and left a message."

"Where and when is dinner?"

"Six-thirty, in the resort's restaurant."

"I'll be there," she said, refusing to acknowledge the sudden leap her heart performed-a leap that had nothing to do with the prospect of dining with Jack Witherspoon. "At least we won't have to dodge each other all evening."

"Right. Listen, as long as you're here, I want to pay my debt of honor." He crossed to the desk and opened his laptop. "I owe you a look at my presentation."

Her surprise must have shown because he smiled. "Obviously you thought I'd conveniently forget but, if nothing else, I'm a man of my word. Take a look."

Jilly joined him and peered over his shoulder, watching the clever five-minute PowerPoint slide show which highlighted Matt's slogan. "ARC Software," he said softly as the words appeared on the screen. "Load it, Launch it, Love it."

Heat suffused her. Whew. The way he murmured his slogan in that husky, suggestive voice made Load it, Launch it, Love it sound like something she'd want to experience with him in the dark. While they were naked.

And there was nothing wrong with that. Everyone knew sex sold. Damn. She wished she'd hated his presentation, wished it were awful. Wished she could lie and tell him that. Instead she said, "Very nice. I'm impressed."

"Thank you. I'm glad we're even now."

"Not exactly even. You still owe me for the snowball fight."

"I was hoping you'd forget."

"Not a chance. In fact, maybe I'll ask for another snowball fight."

"I hope not. I'm apparently not very good at them."

She smiled. "I know. That's why I like to play with you."

He laughed. "Well, I anxiously await to hear what you desire so I can pay my debt." Shooting her a snappy salute, he headed toward the door. "I'll see you at six-thirty." With that, he left the room, leaving Jilly to stare at the door through which he'd just departed.

What I desire? Good grief. She pushed her mental rewind button and cringed at what she'd said to Kate. The thought of Matt knowing that he had her all hot and bothered and that she'd been thinking about having sex with him-yikes.

Thank God he hadn't overheard any of that.