Hot in Here (12 page)

Hey, Jen, why don’t you slip into something more comfortable and I’ll pour you a drink while Chef Fred

here fixes dinner.”

“Bryce,” he snarled through bared teeth.

“Whatever,” James said with a smirk.

Oh, boy. What had she started? Jenna was almost afraid to leave the two of them alone. Not that she

and James had anything going on. But still, Bryce didn’t know that.

James rolled up his shirtsleeves and flopped onto her couch. Bryce glared at him, then stalked into her

galley kitchen. She watched the way he prowled toward her from beneath the veil of her lashes. He

pressed up behind her and pushed his button fly into her skirt, finding the cleft of her bottom while he

pretended he was reaching for a spatula from the container in front of her.

“Get rid of him. Unless, of course, you want him to watch me take you on the table. Or maybe right here,

like this. You think Jimmy might like it, watching me take you standing up? To be truthful, I’m more than

ready for that.Fucking ready, ” he whispered harshly against her ear. “So tell me, Jenna, you wanna give

Jimbo a show he’ll never forget?”

Her knees went weak, and her hand trembled the slightest bit as she lowered the lid to the grill. Oh man,

just the thought of being taken by Bryce again was more than she could bear.

“Too bad you left so damn early this morning, babe,” he murmured, as his seductive lips nuzzled her

nape. “I would have liked to watch you get dressed. This tight little skirt fits your ass like a second skin. I

bet all the men in your office couldn’t keep their eyes on their work today. I know I wouldn’t have been

able to. But then, if I’d seen what you were wearing, I wouldn’t have let you leave. Guess it’s lucky you

left before I woke up, after all.”

There was something in his words besides a compliment. Hurt perhaps? But why would he be hurt that

she’d left before he was awake?

Jenna felt his breath on her neck as he leaned closer to her. His palm slid down her hip, to the hem of her

skirt, and then beneath it.

“What are you wearing under this skirt, Jenna? Is it as sexy as what you were wearing last night when

you greeted me at the door?”

The warmth of his hand permeated the silk of her stockings, and she didn’t breathe,couldn’t breathe, as

he slowly slid his palm up to the lace tops. He sucked in his breath and pressed even closer into her until

she could feel his naked chest, the heat of it, burning through her thin blouse.

His fingertip slid along the lace, until it came to the little bow at the end of her garter. He circled his

erection deeper against her, almost grinding up against her as he slipped his finger beneath the elastic

strap, stretching it, then letting it snap against her thigh. The sting of the strap aroused her, and the way he

smoothed away that little tingle made her wet, aching for more.

“Garter belt and stockings,” he murmured. “You’re a naughty little girl, wearing something like this to

work. And all this time I thought you were a good girl. Tell me, baby, is it black and racy, or is it white

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and virginal?”

She looked up, stealing a peek around the corner of the wall, to where James was going through a stack

of papers.

“Don’t look at him,” Bryce growled as his hand wrapped around her thigh. “Don’t you dare let those

beautiful eyes rest on him, not when it’s me you want.” His palm found her ass, and he rubbed her back

and forth with his warm hand, his fingers trailing along the lace edging of her panties. He found the

wetness through the silk and rubbed it with his fingertips. “I’m dying to see your ass in these panties,

Jenna. All I need to need to know is are they black or white?”

“Pink and black,” she said breathlessly.

His breath hitched again. “Good and bad, huh, Jenna? Well, baby, that’s all I want to see you wearing as

I lay you out on that table and feast on you. What a hot dish you’ll be, spread out for me. I want you to

keep the stockings and garters on. And the panties,” he whispered against her neck. “I’ll just shove those

aside while I taste that pussy of yours. You want that, Jenna, me going down on you?”

Please, please, please,she nearly begged out loud before she stopped herself. Bryce always had it so

easy with women. And now he expected her to be just as easy a conquest as the others. She’d gone

from ticked off to melting in a span of four minutes. Giving in to what he wanted would be too telling.

He’d know that he could manipulate her with sex. That she was ruled by her body and her need for him.

Make him work for it. Be the playgirl to his playboy.Rachel’s words came back to Jenna, and she

straightened, pulling his hand out from beneath her skirt.

“I’m not sure what you thought last night was about,” she murmured, channeling her inner Rachel as she

turned around and faced him, “but I think you should know that I’m not looking for anything . . . steady.”

“What?”

“A casual bit of sex, that’s good, but I’m not looking for anything more than that.”

“Excuse me?”

His frown was something truly frightening. Jenna didn’t think she’d ever seen Bryce looking so fearsome

and she was kind of confused by his anger. “Last night, it was fun and everything, but . . . you know . . .

,” she said, trailing off.

“Hey, Jenna, I got the file opened. You ready to talk shop yet?” James asked.

“Be right there,” she called to James before looking once more at Bryce. “Last night was nice. But I think

we both know that doing that again would be a mistake. We’re better as friends.”

Nice?Last night wasnice ?

What the fuck?

Bryce fought the urge to stalk into Jenna’s living room and haul her up from the couch and show her just

how nice fucking her could be.

Jesus, he was losing it. What the hell was going on here? Everything he had ever thought, ever known,

about Jenna McCabe had suddenly been turned upside down in less than twenty-four hours.

Bryce glanced into the living room and saw that Jenna had sat down on the couch next to what’s-his-face

and was sipping away at a drink that dickhead had made for her.

Bryce felt his mouth turn into a snarl. Every sip was a fricking invitation to sex, and Jimbo wasn’t missing

a beat. When James’ gaze strayed to the little gap between the buttons on Jenna’s blouse, Bryce wanted

to hurl himself onto the couch and drag the asshole to the ground.

Going over files, his ass. James was here to go over something totally different, mainly Jenna’s curvy

body.

And Jenna looked . . . what? Receptive?

Fuming at the stove, Bryce watched the two of them together. James was everything Bryce was not.

From the artfully coiffed tips of his hair—which, Bryce thought savagely, were frosted—to the toes of his

expensive Italian leather loafers, James was the very image of a young, successful businessman. A fucking

glossy-magazine image for the metrosexual man women seemed to adore these days.

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Hell, even his nails were perfectly manicured, and Bryce would bet his left nut that James had a layer of

clear coat on his buffed nail beds.

Did Jenna really go in for this guy?She did last year at the Christmas party, the merciless voice in his head

reminded him.

How could he forget James beneath the mistletoe, bending Jenna back and Frenching her by the coat

check.

Bryce had followed them, wanting to know the reason Jenna was leaving the party so early. And man, he

wished he hadn’t. Because now all he could see was James’ perfect hands roaming up Jenna’s sides,

resting beneath the curve of her tits as he slipped his tongue into Jenna’s mouth. He felt much the same

way now, watching James and Jenna together. Were these two an item? Or was James just a casual fling

she invited over from time to time?

WasIjust a fling?

The thought crushed Bryce. Had he been the only one affected by last night? Did Jenna scream for James

just as easily as she had for him?

The thought literally made him sick.

Bryce glanced once more at Jenna. Felt his guts churn as well as something in his chest. Something he

didn’t want to think about. It was too soon to examine any feelings he might or might not have. Certainly,

he couldn’t think about such things today, not when he was feeling so out of control—uncharacteristically

out of control.

The only thing he knew for certain was he wasn’t allowing Jenna to just brush him aside. No fucking way.

Not after last night. Not after she’d turned his perfectly ordered world upside down. And if she had

thoughts of getting it on with both of them, she was sadly mistaken. Because Bryce didn’t share, and he

sure as hell wasn’t sharing Jenna McCabe, especially after just discovering how tasty a morsel she truly

was.

So, if she wanted what’s-his-face to stay for supper, then fine by him. It was easier for Bryce to monitor

pretty boy’s intentions that way, anyway. But there was a part of Bryce that hoped the dickhead would

choke on his steak. And he wouldnot be the one to administer CPR.

Lifting the lid to the grill, he flipped the steaks and checked on the potatoes. Both were nearly done, so

he turned to the heads of garlic he had on the cutting board, and started chopping, taking out his

frustrations on the knife and the tender roasted garlic flesh. If he wasn’t careful, he’d chop off his fingers.

He really should be thinking about what he was doing, concentrating on the razor-sharp knife in his hand.

But all he could think about was Jenna and the pretty boy sitting beside her, leering down her blouse.

Bryce was a rough-and-tumble type of guy. He was as comfortable working on his Jag as he was in a

kitchen. Maybe he could shave a bit more, and get his hair cut, but there was a part of him that secretly

wanted Jenna to like his rough edges. He wanted her to desire the man that he was, not secretly yearn for

someone he didn’t want to be. He could never be like dickhead. Get his hair frosted? Never. And a

fucking manicure? Not in this lifetime.

You’ve got mail.

The sound of his computer made Bryce jump. He narrowly missed slicing off the tip of his finger. He’d

forgotten that he had been in the middle of writing some business e-mails about the oceanfront properties

while he waited for Jenna to come home. Now, needing a reprieve, he wiped his hands on the towel and

went to the island, where his laptop rested on the countertop.

About fucking time,he fumed. Trey had finally responded to the e-mail that Bryce should most definitely

not have sent that morning after leaving Greenwood’s office.

I’m fucked but can be saved by Project Jenna McCabe.

Hmm, this sounded interesting. Bryce scanned his brother’s e-mail.

Not “ hot girlfriend” material?Bryce grunted. If Trey had seen Jenna in that skimpy nightie last night, he’d

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quickly change his tune. Jenna could be one fucking hot girlfriend.

Bryce suddenly scowled. He hadn’t had a girlfriend since Chrissy, and the term made the hair on his nape

stand up to full height. Yet he couldn’t help but let the thought sneak into his brain. What kind of girlfriend

would Jenna make? She’d always been so warm and caring. And Jesus, he’d always had so much fun

with her. She laughed and made him laugh. And the sex. Trey was saying he could have all the sex he

wanted. Could make Jenna as hot as he wanted, as frequently as he wanted,and get his reputation back.

Now he was grinning. Trey knew exactly what words would put a smile on his face. Trey’s language was

harsh, but Bryce let it go. He didn’t have time to correct his brother’s assumptions about Jenna, and

frankly, he was too riled up to send off a reply. The words wouldn’t come, only the thought of having

more of Jenna.

And not just to save his reputation. To explore . . . whatever this was between them. He saw himself

cooking her dinner and maybe going for long walks, a Saturday afternoon of shopping and maybe the art

gallery. Maybe they could even take the weekend and drive down to Lucan. He loved his hometown and

the McCabe farm, where he’d always felt welcome and part of the family. Hell, maybe he could get

Jenna to climb up the rickety old stairs to the hayloft in the barn, where he could get her naked.

Yeah, Trey was right. Spend time with Jenna. That’s all he could think of.

He hit REPLY.

You’re a fucking genius. Consider Project McCabe launched.

He hit SEND as he glanced out into the living room. James was still looking at the cleavage spilling out of

Jenna’s blouse, while Jenna, completely oblivious to James’ ogling, pored through the manila file folder.

He’d teach the bastard to lust after Jenna.

Bryce pulled the fridge door open and reached into the bowl of ice, pulling out a bag of shrimp. He then

turned to the griddle and opened the lid.

“Shit,” he cursed, loud enough so that both James and Jenna could hear him in the next room.

Jenna jumped out of her seat. “What is it?”

“Sorry, there, Jimbo, I seem to have cross-contaminated everything with this shrimp juice. Fucking bag is

leaking like a sieve.”

Dickhead glared at him. “Did he or didn’t he?” was written all over his face.