It Takes a Rebel (17 page)

possible.

"I heard you're in the running for a vice presidency."

"Who told you that?"

"Your secretary."

"I should have guessed. The woman's in love with you, you know." She rolled her eyes.

Jack laughed. "So is it true?"

"About the vice presidency? Yes, I'm in the running, along with a few colleagues and a couple of external candidates."

"Who will make the decision?"

"The final call is the board of directors', although they'll probably take the recommendation of the members of senior

management and my father."

"Sounds like you're a shoe in," he said carefully. She shook her head and he wondered if she knew how lovely she was—

cheeks flushed, the wind picking up the ends of her hair. Her profile was classically tilted, a masterpiece that made his fingers

itch for a stick of waxy pastels, or a vine of drawing charcoal to get the lines down on paper. He hadn't drawn anything for his

own pleasure in years.

"I won't get favorable treatment simply because of my last name," she said. "In fact, my father is so concerned about

nepotism, sometimes I think he errs in the other direction." She looked over at him with a rueful smile. "Sorry, you probably

think that sounds like sour grapes."

"No." He wasn't inclined to criticize the one insightful tidbit she'd offered him into her personal and professional life.

"I'm actually very grateful for having the chance to learn from my father. He's a brilliant retailer who somehow seems to stay

ahead of the trends even though he hasn't bought a new suit in ten years."

Jack smiled. "A great observer of the human condition."

She nodded, then took a small sip of her beer. "Although I can't say I always agree with him."

He lifted his cup for a drink. "Like his decision to hire me, for instance?"

She sighed. "Jack, you and I both know that my father hired you because of a spontaneous promise he made to your father,

and because of your notoriety. Can you see why I'm a little skeptical? I've seen your office, remember. I know how limited your

resources are. If I weren't concerned, I wouldn't be fulfilling my responsibility to the company."

Jack felt a stab of remorse for not stopping to consider the awkward position Alex must be in—follow her father, or follow

her conscience. For the first time in his life, he wished he was successful by conventional standards, successful enough to give

Alex confidence in his ability. Funny, but she was the only person—definitely the only woman—who hadn't taken him at face

value. He was going to have to earn her trust, and respect. The fact that he was the cause of the little crease in her brow caused

his gut to clench. "Alex," he said quietly, "I realize you have no reason to believe me, but I won't let you down."

She studied him for a few seconds, then tilted her head, a smile playing on her full lips. "I'm not certain, but I think I like this

side of you."

Jack's pulse kicked up. "What side is that?"

"The almost-serious, professional side."

Did a more beautiful pair of eyes exist in the world? He gestured toward her, head to toe. "I think I like this side of you."

Her thin, arched eyebrows rose. "What side is that?"

He grinned. "The beer-drinking, bare-legged gambler."

She blushed, then looked back to the track. "Which proves," she said, her voice featherlight, but deadly serious, "that anyone

can playact for a few hours, but at the end of the day, we are who we are."

The bell announcing the start of the next race sounded, and her attention was diverted to the running of the maiden race that

featured the granddaughter of Spectacular Wish. She leapt to her feet, cheering their underachiever on to victory. Jack was so

distracted watching her and reveling in the elated hug she gave him afterward, he almost forgot to be glad for the chunk of

change he'd just won. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn that a subtle shift in their relationship had occurred during their

abbreviated conversation.

Whatever the cause, Alex did seem more relaxed as the last couple of races were run. "It's much better when you're

winning," she said, her eyes as bright as a child's as he removed the parasol in begrudged preparation to leave. The crowd,

mostly losers for the day, had begun to dissipate much earlier in order to avoid the rush of exiting traffic. Suddenly her mouthed

rounded to an O. "I forgot to call Heath!"

Jack closed his fingers around her wrist as she delved into her purse, presumably for her cellular phone. "I'll drive you—I

need to pick up my jacket anyway." He told himself it was a good reason to put himself in an otherwise risky situation of being

alone with Alex at her place. She stared down at his hand, and he reluctantly released her.

But she didn't retrieve her phone.

Instead, she struck out ahead of him, parasol twirling over her shoulder, and tossed back, "You're pretty confident for a man

who destroyed my new hat."

Thoughts of hurrying to catch up with her were dismissed when he caught sight of her curvy sway. This was one woman he

wouldn't mind walking a few steps behind for the rest of his—er, for a while. "Like I said, it didn't suit you."

"I know," she said, her voice sarcastic. "I look much better in a motorcycle helmet, my eyes squeezed shut, and holding on

for dear life."

"Well," he drawled, loving the way the soft, long skirt of her dress floated up as she walked, revealing the backs of her knees

and the curve of her calves. "I'm partial to that 'holding on for dear life' part." He nearly plowed into the back of her when she

stopped abruptly to give him a pointed look.

"Okay," Jack pulled a snowy handkerchief from his back pocket and waved it in surrender. "I'll behave."

She shook her head, but he'd seen her look much more angry. Unbelievably buoyed, Jack steered her in the direction of his

bike, parked on a knoll inaccessible by most vehicles. He withdrew his extra helmet and helped her strap it on snugly, tucking

strands of dark lush hair beneath the face edge. Her skin was velvety smooth beneath his knuckles.

"You must have lots of passengers if you carry an extra helmet," she remarked.

He shrugged, poking at a stubborn strand next to her eye. "I suppose."

"Any passengers who are more, um, regular than others?"

Jack stopped his ministrations, but she was studying her fingernails. Was she asking what he thought she was asking? "Just

one," he said, giving her chin strap a final tug. "In fact, I bought the helmet for her."

"Oh."

Tack pulled on his own helmet, threw his leg over the seat, then lifted the kickstand with an upward jerk and forward roll.

He reached back to flip down the footpegs, then braced for her to climb on.

Alex frowned down at her dress. "This is going to be awkward."

He grinned. "I promise not to look." With fingers crossed on the handlebar grips, he turned his gaze forward—to take in the

entire show in the side mirror. Between the unwieldy lowered parasol she held under her arm, the big purse, and her

voluminous skirt, she was quite the performer. And her pale-colored panties, it seemed, were trimmed with scalloped lace. He

stifled a groan as she settled in behind him, sitting as stiffly as one of her store mannequins.

He started the engine, then said, "Relax." Rolling his shoulders, he reveled in the feeling of her breasts pressed against him.

She did relax, a millimeter or two, as he maneuvered through the traffic at a leisurely pace. When they came to a stop in a

line of exiting traffic, Alex lifted her head and looked around.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

She nodded, and after a few minutes, she cleared her throat. "This, um, regular passenger of yours—she must be very

important if she warrants her own helmet."

"She is," Jack assured her. "But then Mom has always been pretty close to my heart." He winked at her in the side mirror,

boosted by her unexpected smile. On impulse, he covered her hand curled around his waist with his own, instantly struck by the

softness of her skin and his desire to entwine their fingers. "Hold on for dear life," he warned in his most ominous voice, then

begrudgingly released her hand and accelerated, cutting out of the traffic and threading the bike toward Versailles Road.

He took the long way to Alex's downtown apartment, telling himself in the beginning he was avoiding the worst of the traffic,

but finally admitting to himself that he was prolonging their ride for his own selfish purposes, relishing the feel of her slender

body melded to his. When his roundabout route came to an end in her parking lot, he was already looking forward to Monday

—not because he would be filming the commercials, but because he would be seeing Alex again.

The knowledge spooked him so much, he could barely help her undo her helmet. "Before long, you'll be a pro," he teased,

then realized he was implying that she would be riding with him again … and often.

She blinked those beautiful blue eyes, while running her fingers through her loose hair. "Is this motorcycle your only

transportation?"

"Yep. If the weather is bad, I usually borrow my brother's car." He smiled down at her, caught up in her beauty shining in the

light of early dusk. Yet his reference to his brother reminded him of his promise. "I'll just walk you up, grab my jacket, and be

on my way."

He followed her through the stairwell and up three flights to her apartment, this time keeping his gaze squarely on the back of

her head. When Alex unlocked her door and walked inside, he hung back, thinking the hallway was the safest spot in the

vicinity. Alex obliged by returning quickly with his jacket dangling from her long-fingered hand.

"Thanks," he said, taking the jacket, but suddenly unable to move. "I guess I'll see you Monday at the studio."

She nodded.

Ordering his feet to retreat, Jack said, "Have a nice evening."

"Jack."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for … a fun day."

"See," he said, reaching forward to brush that same stubborn strand of silky dark hair from her flushed cheek. "You can have

fun if you let yourself." He'd been trying to get Alex to loosen up, but now he realized his resistance was far more secure when

fending off her barbed tongue, rather than wondering how it tasted.

Before he had time to change his mind, he cupped his hand around the back of her neck and lowered his mouth to hers for a

quick kiss that turned exploratory as soon as his mouth met hers. A day's worth of teasing and restraint poured into the kiss.

Knowing it might well be his only one, Jack foraged her mouth thoroughly, savoring the sweetness of her flavor. His body,

already keen for her, vaulted to painful awareness of her proximity. When she moaned into his mouth, he pulled her against

him, divulging how much she excited him.

When a noise sounded behind him in the hall, Jack lifted his head to see remorse flash in Alex's eyes as her gaze darted to the

person walking toward them, humming.

"Oh!" A tall woman with spiky white hair stopped short, her eyes round as she eyed them both. "Pardon me, I … I … never

mind." She turned on her platform heels and disappeared around the corner at a pace somewhere between a jog and a sprint.

He looked back to Alex, his eyebrows high, his lips stinging, his erection straining.

"My n-neighbor," she explained, pulling back and touching her mouth absently. Her chest rose and fell quickly and a frown

marred her forehead. "Jack, about what just happened—"

At her agonized tone, he held up his hand and plastered a glib smile on his face. "A little friendly curiosity—now satisfied."

A myriad of emotions played over her face, then she appeared immensely relieved. "Right. Well … thanks again for the ride

home. Good night."

Wringing his jacket, he stared at her closed door for several seconds, wondering what might have ensued without the

appearance of Alex's neighbor. Nothing wise, he was certain. As he retraced his steps to his bike, Alex's earlier words came

back to him.

Anyone can playact for a few hours, but at the end of the day, we are who we are
. Amen to that, Jack thought, grateful for

the interruption. And he couldn't imagine two people at farther ends of the spectrum than he and Alexandria Tremont. She was a

purebred, he was a mongrel. She was the princess, he was the pea.

He scratched his temple as he straddled the seat. Funny, but he couldn't remember ever wanting to be anything other than

what he was. Until now.

Jack glanced up at the white and yellow lights emanating from Alex's windows, spilling over the black wrought iron rail of

her balcony. With the onset of darkness, the warm lights glowed like a beacon. What the devil was this woman doing to him?

Chapter 12

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S
till shaken from the intensity of Jack's kiss, Alex disrobed in a daze, then stepped under a warm shower, figuring she had

about ten minutes before Lana returned demanding details, although her neighbor would be mightily disappointed since Alex

herself wasn't even sure what had happened. She leaned her head back and allowed the warm water to run over her body—

nice, but a poor substitute for a man's hands.

Jack's
hands, she realized with dismay, wondering if her startling attraction to him had something to do with her somewhat