Caught on Camera (10 page)

“Okay, then,” he began. “Let’s talk about the more important topic of the moment.” He grabbed a dish towel and dried the pan, then couldn’t resist leaning into her as he reached around her to snag the spoon from the dessert. As their bodies brushed, his tensed in accord with hers. Uncomfortable awareness arched between them each and every time they touched.

With a bite of chocolate now on the spoon, he straightened and blanked his own eyes to match hers. He held the utensil between them, moving it slowly back and forth, smiling as her gaze flickered between it and his face. “Why are you in here eating my dessert, Vega?”

Before he could guess her intentions, her mouth covered the chocolate, her eyelids closing along with her lips. She moaned as he stood rooted in shock. He wanted that sound to come from her throat at his touch.

He had to get a grip. The evening was over. Otherwise, his apology meant nothing.

Vega licked her lips and smiled a tight, frightening smile. The curve of her mouth said she had herself completely back under control, and therefore felt she once again held the upper hand. “I’m eating your dessert because you’re a cad and don’t deserve it.”

His body went instantly from a flicker to a full-blown blaze, and no matter what his dwindling brain told him, he couldn’t stop from trying one last time.

“I’m a cad,
hmmmm
?” He started with the top of her head, now a few inches lower without her shoes, and trailed his gaze over the hair pulled smoothly back into some sort of sexy, messy style. Then he moved over her face, his gaze grazing the smooth forehead, cheeks, the edge of her nose, but barely alighting on her eyes or full mouth, no matter how they called to him.

Tilting his head, he eyed her long, slender neck. He dipped forward, as if to press his mouth to the spot pounding beneath her ear, but stopped inches before touching her. He was rewarded with her own body swaying forward on a soft gasp of air.

“
Mmmm
,” he murmured. Leaning back, he continued his perusal down her body. He’d perfected the technique years ago. Seduction by touching every part of a woman’s body with nothing but his gaze and the thought of what he could do to her. Only this time he was having a heck of a hard time not simply reaching for what he wanted. This time he honestly wasn’t sure if he was the one in control or not.

He tightened his hands into fists when his gaze crossed over the hem of her skirt, wondering what her thighs would feel like against his palms, and couldn’t contain the movement in his slacks. Although he wasn’t looking, he felt her gaze clinging to his crotch, and he surged higher.

A soft whimper hit his ears, but he trudged onward, dragging over every square inch of her long, long legs until he ended at the toes curled under her feet.

Slowly, he scanned back up to find her lids heavy and her lips parted. Whatever this was between them, he had to explore it.

Shifting, he leaned back against the counter. “Come here.”

She tensed, her intent to deny him obvious. Then something changed.

Uncertainty flashed across her face. Her shoulders widened, and she studied every part of him. But it wasn’t the physical scrutiny he’d given her so much as it seemed she was studying his insides. Trying to figure out if he was worthy of her, maybe? No doubt he wasn’t.

The question was: Did it matter? Did she want him enough to push aside their differences and indulge?

After what seemed like hours, her eyes darkened and melted. She reached for the spoon hanging from between his fingers and dipped it back into the cup. Coming up with the last bite, she brought it to her mouth, her tongue darting out to swipe along the edge, barely lifting anything off.

He quit breathing, his gaze following the speck of chocolate as it disappeared between her lips, and realized something he’d never thought he’d acknowledge, even to himself. He was desperate for this woman. This woman he’d barely met, who so blatantly wasn’t looking for fun and games.

She set down the flute and held out her arm, offering him the last bite. After a gulp, he opened his mouth and let her feed him the decadent dessert he’d learned to make from the best chef money could buy.

He fought everything inside him that wanted to moan, both at the taste and at the thought of the woman feeding it to him. When he remained silent, she angled her head in concentration as if trying to figure out what she could do to get him to lose control. Finally she took a hesitant half-step toward him, one arm whispering against the side of his hip with her movement.

And he snapped.

Wrapping a hand around her waist, he dragged her flush against him, yet not nearly as close as he needed her. Every soft curve fit perfectly against his harder planes. He wanted their clothes gone. Now.

Without asking, he gripped her chin and brought her mouth up to his. He slanted over her, intending to ravish, but he couldn’t do it. She wasn’t like the others. With ragged control, he hovered there, lifting his gaze, silently begging for permission.

Her eyes didn’t answer. They merely stared, daring him to make a choice.

Then a horn outside the house made it for them.

The sound stiffened Vega’s desire-melted body, and she shoved out of his arms. “My cab is here.”

“Stay,” his voice was hoarse. “Let me take you back to your hotel.”

She shook her head, not looking at him. “I can’t.”

“Vega,” he murmured. He reached one hand out for her, but she skirted away. Shoes in hand, she pushed the door open to go back through the house.

“Thanks for dinner.” Her voice, muffled from the other side of the swinging door, startled him into action, and he followed. He had to see her again.

“Vega.” His sharp command stopped her as she reached the front door.

She turned to him, her features cool and blank.

He eyed her as he crossed the room to stand before her. If he hadn’t just seen her seconds earlier, every inch of her plastered to him, he wouldn’t believe she’d ever been aroused. He sighed. “You’re going to pretend that was nothing in there, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, suddenly looking less unaffected. “We shouldn’t…I mean I…”

“It’s okay.” JP closed his hand gently over hers, bringing it to his mouth and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “I’m confused, too. But we’ll figure it out. Let me send the car away.”

She shot him a mixture of sadness and regret. “He’s already here.”

“So tell him to go away.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s best if I go. This can’t go anywhere, JP.”

Frustration flared in him. His intuition told him she was right, it was best if she returned by herself and they both forgot they’d even met. That way he didn’t risk once again trying to talk her into something she wasn’t ready for, and also didn’t risk getting shot down twice in one night. But what if tonight was all she gave him?

Unable to accept the idea, he silently pleaded for her to be unable to walk away so easily. This thing he felt, whatever it was, she felt too. He had no doubt about that.

He stepped forward, backing her into the door, his body barely brushing hers. A soft breath touched his neck. He used a knuckle to nudge her face up, letting her see his certainty.

“I will see you again,” he murmured and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

The horn outside honked again, and emotions danced over her features. Sadness, regret, acceptance. “You won’t see me again, JP. Other than behind the camera at the gala tomorrow night. And since it’s the last event for the fund-raiser, I go home early Sunday morning.”

“No.”

“No?” One perfect brow edged upward as she gave a husky chuckle that sounded way too final. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. You may be the great, almighty JP Davenport, but you don’t always get your way.” She shrugged against him and he pressed harder into her. “Since I didn’t get the interview, my job here will be done at the conclusion of the gala.”

Blinding fear he didn’t understand gripped him. She couldn’t leave. He wasn’t done with her. He roved his gaze over her perfectly unmarked skin, as clean as the day she was born, and wondered what it was about her that made him desperate to know more. “It’s Friday night. Surely you don’t have to return to Savannah until Monday. Stay for the weekend. Let me take you out. For real this time.”

She shook her head. “I already told you. I won’t go out with—”

“Dammit, Vega. One dinner.”

She remained silent, the back of her head resting again the front door, her polite, controlled expression pissing him off as much as her refusal to go out with him.

“Why not?” he growled.

“It’s simple.” She pushed at his chest and he let her create space between them. “There would be no reasonable explanation for me to be seen with you. Therefore anything we do would be caught and displayed in some trashy paper.”

“So? It happens all the time.”

She chuckled, nodding. “I know. Probably every single time you step outside your door.”

He didn’t understand what the big deal was. Yes, the paparazzi were an inconvenience, but it wasn’t like showing up in the tabloids with him would ruin her life. He hated to be a jerk, but considered pointing out that it would more likely open more doors for her than shut them.

Before he could share his thoughts, she held up a hand. “Stop. I can see what you’re thinking. But what you don’t get is that the people who show up in those magazines—the
normal
people—often get dragged through the mud for no reason of their own, no matter who they get photographed with. And if there isn’t a story to be found, one gets made up. So no, I have no interest in that.”

“The articles can get shut down.”

“Maybe. And maybe it would already be too late. But unlike you, I don’t have the unlimited means to snap my fingers and have a lawyer put a stop to it. Plus, I value my privacy enough not to put myself in the situation to begin with. I won’t risk having myself plastered all over the tabloids, talked about as if anyone has any right to discuss my private life and drag me through the mud, simply for a good time.” She shook her head. “With anyone.”

He glared at her, fully aware he was damn close to groveling, and strong men didn’t grovel. And then it came to him. “At the end of dinner tomorrow night, there’s an auction. Every year I end up being the final sale, silly as it may seem. A day with Jackson Parker Davenport Jr., treated to every indulgence a woman could want.” He finger-quoted the last sentence as that’s how it was advertised, then dropped his arms to his sides, completely out of ideas. “Buy me.”

Dark eyes faded to black. “I’ve seen the results of prior years. Even if I wanted to buy a date with you, I can’t spend money like that.”

“I’ll pay,” he gritted out. “Whatever it costs.” Damn. His father would roll over in his grave if he could hear the way his son was begging a woman to go out with him.

“JP.” Vega took his hands in hers and peered up at him, as sincere as he’d seen her. “I can’t. Buying you would cause the exact opposite of what I want. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”

The cabbie laid on his horn and they both stepped away from the door. JP opened it a couple inches so the driver would know she was on her way, then his chest deflated. He wasn’t ready for her to leave.

With a finality he didn’t accept, Vega pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I like you, JP,” she whispered. “I think you’re a better guy than you give yourself credit for, but it ends here.” After slipping into her shoes, she smoothed her hands over her hair and gave him a tight smile. “Thanks for a lovely dinner.”

“H
ERE WE GO
again,” JP uttered as he held the door to his childhood home open for his sister to enter before him.

Reaching up, she patted his cheek as she passed. “Poor baby. Another night of the most rich and eligible—and some not eligible—women of Atlanta, all vying for your undivided attention. How will you ever survive?”

He pushed the heavy door closed behind them and scowled, only half-serious. “You know the auction is not my idea of fun. I don’t know why I let you two talk me into this every year.”

Cat turned to him, her long green gown flowing with the movement, and pointed a finger at him the way only older sisters knew how to do. “You know exactly why. It’s the item that brings in the most money every year. And don’t even think of backing out after you let yourself be dragged into politics either.”

Her mention of what he’d soon be doing took all the fun out of teasing her about the auction. He wasn’t lying; it wasn’t his idea of fun. In fact, it was darn near embarrassing. Yet she was right. How could he not like all those women hooting and hollering over the idea of spending the evening with him? Not to mention running the bid up to such numbers some years he was awed by the action. So he went along with it for the good of the charity—and for his ego. He could think of worse things to be doing.

But the thought of going up for bid
after
he became senator? That sent a fizzle of terror down his spine. He’d soon have to watch his behavior much more carefully then he already did. Being caught in the tabloids as the most eligible Davenport was one thing, but being there as a Georgia senator? He shook his head with disgust. Attention from the paparazzi was only going to get worse.