A Gentleman in the Street (10 page)

It was nice when a man you desired reciprocated the attraction, but not when that man was otherwise repelled by you. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “You made me think you despised me for fourteen years, and now I find out it was because I committed the cardinal sin of attracting your lust.”

“Akira—”

“Guess what? I reserve the right to not be punished for your desires.” She tugged at her skirt until every wrinkle was gone, her latest indiscretion vanished.

His fists flattened on the door, and he leaned closer. “What we just did was dirty. It was wrong.”

“Which part? The part where you followed me for what was obviously an indiscreet assignation? Or when you stayed to watch? Or when you stood so close you could have fingered me while another man fucked me?”

“Stop.”

“I wish you would have,” she continued in a throaty purr. “You only touched my cheek, my lips. You had the chance. You should have sucked on my tits. Or rubbed my clit.”

“Akira.”

Uh-oh. She was turning herself on again anew, but she couldn’t. Shut. Up. “Did it make you feel good?” Taking advantage of his proximity, she dropped her hand to his cock, the width and length of it making her feel empty and unfulfilled. She craved this, wanted to hold it, lick it, suck it, fuck it.

His hips jerked at her touch, but he was silent.

“I guess it didn’t make you feel good enough.” She stroked his dick through the fine fabric of his tuxedo pants. He had shaved his beard off for the night, but a dark shadow was already creeping over his square jawline. He might be dressed up, but he would never look civilized. “You’re so hard.” She released him when he shuddered, her lips kicking up in a humorless smile. “You must be so ashamed about—” She cut herself off, his expression slicing through her anger.

She considered herself an expert in reading people. It was part of what made her successful. How had she missed this?

She answered herself almost immediately: she’d been too busy wrestling with her own emotions where this man was concerned.

Shame. It was there, in his words, the way he held his body, the flush over his face, the way his eyes burned. Not because he was ashamed of her. He was ashamed of himself.

“I don’t hate you,” he said again. There was a slight tremor to his voice.

“Oh, Jacob,” she murmured. “Maybe you do and maybe you don’t. But either way, I think you hate yourself far more than you could ever hate me.”

The shuddery, pain-filled breath he released told her she had guessed right. He looked as though he had dropped ten pounds in the last ten minutes, the skin of his face stretching tight over his cheekbones.

Despite her lingering anger, pity moved in her chest. She lifted a hand to his cheek. He exhaled and imperceptibly leaned into her touch. “I’m sorry for you,” she said very clearly, not relishing his flinch. “But you still had no right to treat me like you have.”

He didn’t stop her when she ducked under his arm and left the room. The hallway remained deserted, and she skirted through the busy ballroom to make her way to the cloakroom.

There was no description for the emotions roiling inside her, so she didn’t bother to try. Restless, her fingers drummed against the counter as she waited for the coat-check girl to find her wrap.

“I should have known you were up to something when you asked to be my plus-one.” Remy reached past her and placed a tip into the jar when the girl returned with her cloak.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She accepted the cloak and allowed Remy to assist her with donning it. He placed a hand on the small of her back as they walked out of the mansion into the chilly night air. “I donate to many charities.”

“Yeah, I know. Generously. But anonymously. You only attended these events when your mother summoned you.”

Because Mei wanted to maintain her image as the perfect, beleaguered mother in front of her fellow philanthropists. “I love raising my profile in the community.”

Remy snorted, the sound out of place on the otherwise elegant man. “Please. Who was that guy? I would assume an ex, but you don’t do relationships long enough to have an ex.”

“I do relationships.”

“Trust me, you don’t. Or we’d be married by now.”

She clutched her wrap closer and managed a small smile. She had met Remy a few years ago at a friend’s house. The younger man wasn’t, as many people assumed, a fashion model. He was an escort. A damn good one too, and amply compensated by his clients. “The hell we would. You wouldn’t last two days as my husband.”

Remy gave an injured sniff but didn’t argue with her assessment. “Come on, sweetheart. You didn’t show up here out of the goodness of your heart.”

She shrugged as he handed his ticket to the valet.

“I’m never going to believe—”

“Remy, just drop it.”

He clammed up and stared at her, surprise written all over him. Unable to look at him, she turned and stared at the driveway, willing their car to arrive faster.

“Akira. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Thanks.”

Her short answer did not satisfy him. “You haven’t been the same since your mother died.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “I’m hardly mourning my mother, darling. You know what she was like.”

“Yeah, but death affects us—”

She made a sharp gesture with her hand. “Please stop. If I wanted you to treat me like one of your clients, I would pay for your services.”

Remy pursed his lips, considering her. “Okay,” he finally said. “If you want to talk, I’m here.”

She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to go home and brood over Jacob and lick her wounds in peace. Was that too much for a woman to ask?

Akira uttered a sigh of relief when Remy’s sleek Porsche came into view. She slid inside the passenger seat and relaxed inside the buttery-soft leather. Only to stiffen when she made the mistake of glancing out the window, catching Jacob frozen in the act of donning his coat.

So she wasn’t the only one who had lost the partying mood.

Jacob shrugged his light coat on slowly and stood on the top step of the mansion, staring down at her. The moonless night cast too many shadows on his face for her to decipher his expression. His hands pushed into his pockets, and he took a single step down the stairs.

She swallowed and turned her head deliberately to look forward, though it took a massive force of will, hating the taste of grief and anger in her mouth. “Let’s go.”

Jacob spun the bottle of beer around, watching the condensation ring on the table become larger. The music from the bar was white noise, the clatter of plates and glasses a cacophony he was able to tune out.

The beer was his favorite, an IPA from a local brewery, but it was bitter and disgusting on his tongue today. His taste buds were ruined for everything. He swallowed, but it didn’t help.

“…up with you?”

“I think he’s brooding.”

“This seems a bit intense, even for him.”

“These artist types, man. Yo, Jacob!”

Jacob jerked his head up, startled at the sound of his name. His brothers stared back at him, equal amounts perplexed and amused. “You aren’t even paying attention to us,” Ben, his youngest brother, complained.

“Ah. Sorry, guys. I’m, uh, not good company.”

“Is it your book? I know you have a deadline.” Ever mindful of obligations, Ben cocked his head. “How’s that going?”

“Great,” he lied, attempting not to think about the manuscript languishing on his hard drive. Like he’d been able to write a single word today after last night. Shell-shocked and sleep-deprived, he had spent the day in a stupor, too many thoughts shooting through his brain for him to focus on any one.

“You don’t look great.” Ben frowned. “Is something wrong?”

What was wrong was that he was a stupid asshole. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, and he had barely managed to look at himself in the mirror this morning when he was brushing his teeth.

A bit of beer spilled on the table. Absentmindedly, he wiped it with a napkin. “Nah, it’s fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. I’m just kind of tired. You know.”

“Man, tell me about it. You didn’t tell us how hard running our own business is,” Connor said. Ben and Connor were Irish twins, with Connor older by only eleven months, but they looked enough alike to pass for identical. All the Campbell brothers looked similar, actually, big and broad and dark haired. Kati was the only oddball, with her blondness and petite frame.

“I actually told you exactly that, before you started.” Jacob frowned, his attention suddenly diverted from his own troubles. “What’s wrong? Is it going poorly?”

“Nah. Business is picking up,” Ben replied. “We’re finally moving past mowing lawns.”

Connor grinned, his smile looking so much like their late mother’s, Jacob felt a pang in his chest. “Got a huge new client last week. Out of town, has eight properties here they want to completely redo.” Without even looking at each other, the boys high-fived. “It’s gonna be great.”

Jacob’s smile was weak, but it was there. “Good. I’m happy for you guys.”

“Maybe he’ll like us so much we can get a deal on rent in one of those properties,” Ben mused. “It would be nice to have running hot water. I’ve taken more cold showers…” He cut himself off.

Connor made an annoyed sound. “Damn it. Finish that sentence.”

“Not a chance. I know you already have some smartass remark ready.”

Deprived of a prime teasing opportunity, Connor’s full lips turned down.

“Your landlord still hasn’t fixed your water? I can come over and take a look,” Jacob offered, ignoring their antics.

“Nah. We can handle it.”

“I told you two, you could move back home until the business gets off the ground.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll drive all the chicks crazy.” Connor’s smile was sardonic. “Your place or…my brother’s?”

“And trust me, too many of those girls will choose your place, Jacob. We practically have a revolving door in our apartment for all Connor’s women.”

“Not true…”

Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Boys,” he said mildly, gratified when both men shut up and sat a little straighter. Ben and Connor might be as big as him, twenty-six and twenty-seven respectively, and business owners, but they’d always be his younger brothers.

Wait a minute. Jacob directed a frown at Connor. “What women?”

His brother returned his gaze steadily with the light blue eyes he had inherited from their mother, but Jacob caught Connor’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I’m seeing a couple of girls. No one serious enough to bring around.”

“They know about each other?”

“Jesus, Jacob.” Connor ran his finger under the collar of his shirt with an annoyed jerk. The boy had always been good-looking, and Connor wallowed in the attention of females, lapping it up.

Jacob knew his brother was a decent guy and didn’t expect him to be a virgin or even puritanical, but he didn’t think it hurt to reinforce the lessons he’d spent a lifetime teaching the kid. “I don’t care what you do or who you do it with. As long as you’re honest and careful with the girls.”

“What do you think I am? Of course they know it’s nothing serious.”

Ben grinned irrepressibly. “Tell me you’re going to lecture him about condoms next.”

Connor shot their little brother an annoyed glance. “You know what, Jacob? It would be really nice, just once, if you wouldn’t play Dad.”

You’re not my dad.
Jacob stilled, his wound still too fresh. “What?”

“You know. You’re our brother. I know you’re old, but for God’s sake. Just be our brother.”

He was not old. He was older. There was a difference. “I am your brother.”

Connor sighed. “Never mind. Forget it.”

Jacob shifted, more aware of his creaky knee than ever. He didn’t want to forget it. He wanted to snarl at the ungrateful runt, flip the table, and stomp out.

But that wasn’t what responsible, caring adults did. So he sat there and struggled to swallow another sip of his beer before putting it down. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

“But we haven’t had a family dinner in weeks,” Ben protested.

Which was why, no matter how out of it Jacob had felt, how eager he had been to hole up and lick the wounds Akira had inflicted and ponder her words, he’d forced himself to shower and drag himself out tonight. Family first.

Even if they did chastise him for being old and fatherly.

Connor selected a mozzarella stick and bit into it. “Are you going to tell us why a quarter of this family is a no-show? I mean, I’m glad we got to order junk food and beer instead of tofu and sprouts, but I wanted to see the squirt.”

Kati had become a full-fledged health food advocate since she had started high school. It was annoying as hell for all three of them, but Jacob didn’t think his brothers had any room to complain. Ben and Connor lived together halfway across town—he was the one who had to sneak cheeseburgers and buy expensive, unfathomable staples for the pantry.

Jacob scraped at the corner of the label on the beer bottle. “She’s a little upset with me.”

“Uh-oh.” Ben pulled a sympathetic face. “What happened?”

Jacob didn’t particularly want to talk about anything so closely related to Akira.

Yet, his brothers were watching him expectantly, so he swallowed his own distaste and quickly sketched out the story about Mei and the mysterious, unopenable box she had handed over to Kati.

Connor whistled when Jacob was done, a flash of avarice glinting in his eyes. “How much do you think it—or whatever’s inside it—is worth?”

He thought of Akira curled on the rug, weeping, the smallest and weakest he’d ever seen her.
Probably brought out all your protective manly instincts. Turned you on.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Doesn’t matter how much it’s worth. It belonged in Akira’s family, not ours.” He paused, a thought occurring to him. “Mei didn’t give you guys anything, right?”

“If Connor was given some expensive bauble, it would be long gone by now. Liquidated and the money in some off-shore account in the Bahamas,” Ben replied.

“Shows how much you know. I would never do the Bahamas. The Swiss are the way to go.” Connor held up his hand when he caught Jacob’s frown. “I kid. Of course Mei didn’t give us anything. Though we didn’t visit her nearly as much as you and Kati did. I think she thought I was an asshole.”