Dancing in the Dark (7 page)

“She’s not your type.” Charity looked heavenward for forgiveness. “Besides, I think she’s mad at you. Most of the women at work are.”

“They are? What did I do?”

“Those men’s meetings of yours.” She snorted in disgust. “What do you tell them? They’ve come out of both meetings like supermacho men, heaving hairy chests and snapping orders. There isn’t a harmonious hunter-protector among them.”

Jake cursed. “They must have gotten it all wrong.”

“No kidding.”

“That happens sometimes to the insecure. They hear only what they want to hear. I’ll straighten them out.”

“I hope so,” Charity said, sighing. “Otherwise, the women will kill them.”

He laughed. “I bet you don’t think that’s a bad idea.”

“Nope. It looks very good to me.”

“I’m probably number one on the hit parade. Don’t worry, though. We’re having another meeting this weekend, a round-table discussion on what our
fathers didn’t teach us. Usually that has them all sensitive.”

“Do you sell tickets to this stuff?” Charity asked. “I’d love to see that.”

“I bet. Are you seeing your parents while you’re here?”

She didn’t miss the change in subject, and wondered if he’d take the men to his spot in the woods. If so, she wanted to be right in her little cubbyhole of bushes when the festivity started. “I’m taking a late shuttle home tomorrow night so I can have dinner with them,” she answered him.

“Sounds good,” he said. “See, Charity? This isn’t so bad, talking about personal things.”

“It isn’t,” she admitted. Not so far.

“Of course, we’re both in bed—”

“Jake,” she warned.

“Just a reflex action of the male spirit. I’m really glad you’re here. I like you, Charity. You’re bright and easy to talk to.”

“But not beautiful.” She sighed. It was the story of her life.

“Actually, you are very beautiful. I’ve never said so because I figured you’d immediately attack me for being a chauvinist. You know, ‘like me for my mind, not my body.’ Admit you would have.”

“Well …” she hedged, but she was extremely pleased he found her attractive. He really wasn’t a bad sort. He just had strange ideas about some things—like dancing naked. She wondered if he would do it on the Common there in Boston. Of course, other women would see him then. Somehow the notion wasn’t quite the hoot it used to be.

“Well, what?” he asked. “Can I say you’re extremely
attractive, and I like to watch you walk away? Or am I just allowed to think it? I promise I won’t think it about the blonde in accounting, whoever she is.”

She chuckled. “You know we shouldn’t be having this conversation at all.”

“I’ve been wondering about that too, but hell, I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.” He was quiet for a long moment, then finally added, “That door between us won’t open tonight … even though I wish it would.”

His words whorled inside her, touching places that hadn’t been touched in years. Oddly, they felt as if they’d never been touched. Her blood slowly thickened and heated, sending its warmth to her nerve endings.

“Why aren’t you married?” he asked.

“I was engaged once,” she said, deciding talking was better than thinking. “You were married before, right?”

“Yes. My wife wanted Alan Alda, and I just couldn’t be that any longer.”

“I can’t imagine you as Mr. Sensitive.”

“I’m wonderfully sensitive in certain places—”

“That’s not what I was talking about.”

“Right. The dull stuff. There isn’t much to tell. We deferred to her career, until mine reached a critical point. I’d turned down every promotion that entailed moving, but one was for a company in trouble, rather like Wayans. I refused the job. They went under. I didn’t turn down the next promotion, and my former wife threw a fit over my ‘chauvinism.’ She left me. I figured afterward that I was better off. All we had in common was her job. No children. She was never ready.”

That explained a lot, Charity thought, mentally chewing on the notion.

“How about your engagement?” he asked. “What happened?”

“I was very young,” she said, deciding to share. “But we argued more and more the closer we got to the wedding date, until we realized we weren’t ready.”

“Lived with anyone?”

“Yes. Twice, not including my fiancé. I never lived with him.” She wondered what Jake would think of her sexual track record, if it would give him ideas about them that she wasn’t prepared to deal with. “The last would have been a perfect candidate for your men’s movement. Neanderthal was about his speed. He was a big mistake.”

“He was a fool,” Jake said.

“Actually, I finally wasn’t. Still, when you’re nearly thirty and statistics say you’re more likely to meet a terrorist than a decent man, one does begin to grasp at straws.”

“Well, you’ve found me. Now all I have to do is convince you. I think I’ve figured out how.”

“How?” she asked, curious.

“This. We haven’t talked business once, you know. Now I’m going to get personal. What are you wearing?”

She glanced down at herself and said dubiously, “My nightgown.”

“I bet it’s silk. No.” His voice lowered. “It’s cotton, soft, soft cotton, so thin it’s almost see-through. You think it’s a nightgown like any other. But a man would find it sexy.”

Charity touched the material at her waist, feeling
the softness of the fabric and her warm flesh underneath it. It was as if he’d touched her himself.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” she said, her own voice husky.

“I can see you stretching your body under the sheets in that leisurely way you have that’s incredibly sensual. You did it at the lake.”

“I did?”

“You did. You might as well have punched me in the stomach, that’s how much you took my breath. Why do you think I couldn’t resist kissing you?”

“I …”

“I still can’t, you know.”

The conversation was getting dangerous, too dangerous. She felt as if she were in a fire about to erupt to volatile proportions. Their talk was way beyond normal bantering, she knew she should stop it, yet she didn’t want to. She couldn’t remember a man talking to her this way for a long time. If ever. Never had she felt more female, more feminine.

“And your hair,” he continued. “It’s loose and tumbled over the pillow, isn’t it? Tempting a man’s hand. You tempt a man’s hand, Charity. You’ll have me making pup tents all night under my sheet just thinking about you.”

She gasped, realizing
exactly
what he was talking about. “Jake!”

“It’s a statement of fact. Being right next to you like this, I think they’re going to be circus tents.”

“This is rapidly becoming an obscene phone call,” she said sternly.

“It’s been there and back again. Are you sure you’re not Prudence or Virtue in disguise?”

She chuckled. “It would serve you right if I were.”

“Well then, get off the line and let me speak to your sister. The one with the tempting name. Charity.”

“I don’t live up to it, remember?”

“I have a feeling you live up to it very well, after a man gets past your reserve.”

“And you think you can.”

“I’ll damn well try.”

“Good night, Jake,” she said softly, and just as softly hung up the receiver.

“Good night, Charity,” a faint voice said through the wall.

She laughed.

Jake knocked on Charity’s door with every intention of platonically escorting her and Mary to breakfast. He was proud of himself for not tearing the wall down the night before to get at her. Unfortunately, his quota of sleep fell far short that morning.

The door opened. Charity was wearing a lemon-yellow linen dress that outlined every curve without being provocative. Her hair was pulled back in a French braid, the style giving her eyes a catlike quality—mysterious yet bold. Soft cotton and softer talk of the night before came back in a rush.

“I’ll just get my briefcase and jacket,” she said.

“Fine.” His voice was hoarse. The urge was overwhelming to take up in a nonverbal way where their conversation had left off the previous night. He couldn’t remember wanting anyone more than he wanted Charity Brown.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Charity had turned away to get her things.
Unthinking, he reached out and turned her back, pulling her against him. He kissed her, tasting the smoothness of her lipstick on her lips. He couldn’t stop himself; he didn’t even know how to try. Not with Charity. She was rapidly becoming an obsession.

He could feel her surprise, then her hesitation, but he was too hungry for her just to let her go. Holding her more tightly to him, he felt her breasts press into his chest and the length of her legs brush sensuously against his. He was careful not to let his hand drop below her waist, but he allowed himself the pleasure of caressing her back, feeling the feminine bone and flesh beneath the smoothness of the linen. Her mouth relaxed under his and opened, allowing his tongue to find hers. The kiss deepened, turning from dark sensuality to raw need. Her hands clung to his shoulders, and his heart quickened, sending his blood roaring through him.

Sanity returned with the lack of air in his lungs. Jake raised his head. Charity slowly fluttered open her eyelids. Her eyes were unfocused for an instant, then panic flared in them.

“I’m not apologizing,” Jake said, holding her when she would have pulled away. “I’ll be damned before I apologize for that.”

“You know how I feel about this,” she said.

“I know what you think is right. But you ought to start thinking about what else is right for you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And you think you’re it?”

“I think I could be,” he said, his tone assured, “if you’d only give this a chance.”

“Don’t we have a presentation to do?”

He kissed her swiftly, then let her go. “Go fix your lipstick.”

“Go fix yours.” She walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Jake turned and looked at his face in the mirror on the closet door. Coral-red lipstick was smeared across his lips. Not bad, he thought as he took out his handkerchief and wiped it off. And how it got there was even better.

Charity emerged from the bathroom, lipstick in place. She gazed levelly at him and said, “This won’t happen again.”

He smiled. “I think it will. And I don’t think you can stop it.”

“I can stop it.”

Judging from her stiff stance, set jaw, and clenched fists, Jake thought, she was furious. His smile faded, but he didn’t intend to give up. “We’ll see. Shall we go and sell a contract?”

She slipped out the door without a word.

Jake followed her just as Mary was emerging from her room. If she thought anything of the two of them exiting the same room, it didn’t show on her face. But Charity’s shoulders stiffened even more. Jake knew she was feeling compromised and wished he could say something to make it all go away. Whatever was happening between them wouldn’t disappear that easily, though. And he didn’t want it to.

Charity relaxed some during breakfast, joining in the conversation with him and Mary. Jake was careful to keep every movement between him and Charity on a business level. For one thing, he recognized that she would respond to that, and for another, he
didn’t want to give her the least feeling that her job was in any way dependent on how she reacted to him personally. That meant he had to keep the personal very private.

The managers of DGF Technologies were a little puzzled with the two women when the three of them arrived, especially when it became obvious Charity was doing the presentation. They were expecting, Jake knew,
the man
to do it. He had never held with the tradition of the boss doing the important things while the employees did the work. In Jake’s book, whoever did the work deserved the recognition.

As she stood at the end of the conference table, though, he noticed that Charity looked unsure, nervous. And she wouldn’t look him in the eye at all. The suppliers shifted expectantly, then restlessly. Jake tried to smile encouragingly at her, even as his impatience rose. What the hell was she waiting for?

“Ahh …” she began, staring down at her notes.

Mary set several of the spec sheets in front of her. “Here are the first requirements.”

Charity smiled gratefully and began to describe what was needed. As she talked, her delivery, her manner, became smoother and smoother, until at the end she had them practically panting to get in on the deal. Jake grinned at her, and she smiled back, a genuine smile. Maybe she wasn’t quite so angry about the kiss that morning. And maybe there was a monkey in the moon.

Jake didn’t know how to break completely through the polite barrier she’d erected between them. He’d pierced it on several occasions, but she always managed to close it back up. Nothing she’d said told him she’d had a terrible love affair that had left lingering
wounds. Even her last one didn’t seem to particularly bother her, except that she’d made a mistake and recognized it as such. That showed maturity rather than pain.

He had to curb his impatience. That she was elusive made her more fascinating. He couldn’t help wondering what was under the next layer and how it would reveal itself. There was more to Charity than he’d ever imagined, and all of it pulled at his soul. Clearly, she liked the arm’s-distance flirting. And she’d liked their talk last night. If talking got him closer, then he’d talk. Like a true hunter, he was following all impulses now.

“… we’ll give an extra five percent discount on all materials and provide complete service and instruction for ten percent of the profits.”

The offer penetrated his musings, but Jake found the DGF vice president wasn’t talking to him. He was negotiating with Charity. DGF had made an assumption about her powerbase, and he wasn’t about to abuse it. He’d step in only if he had to.

She never glanced at him for approval, but negotiated with DGF until she got the best deal for Wayans. Hands were shaken all around, then Jake, Charity, and Mary left.

The moment they were outside in the parking lot and out of sight of their new partners, Charity breathed a sigh of relief. Jake squeezed her shoulders. “You did very well.”