Pool Man (8 page)

I sat in Ethan’s airy office waiting for her to arrive, shifting in the uncomfortable chair and drumming my fingers on the arm. The office sported a desk and a sofa as well, but the sofa was covered with all manner of paraphernalia and if I sat at the desk, I wouldn’t be able to stare through the floor-to-ceiling windows into his lobby while I fretted. I didn’t know why I fretted. I hadn’t expected to be this nervous.

Ethan’s staff flitted around in the hallway, which annoyed me. Every time someone passed, my heart would leap and my breath would catch and—damn, it wasn’t her.

But then, at two p.m. precisely, the doors opened and she stepped through, marching for the reception desk like a warrior princess on a mission. My heart swelled. My pulse thudded. My palms went damp.

She looked beautiful. Oh, she had restrained her hair into a neat bun, but I could tell the rebellious wisps were trying to escape. She was dressed in a dark suit with a tulip skirt and while it was sedate and very businesslike, the buttons running up the side of her skirt revealed her sexy proclivities.

And speaking of sexy proclivities—oh lord in heaven above—she wore heels.

Strappy confections with a savage arch and open toes.

Damn.

Damn. Damn.

I must have stood—or perhaps my cock merely levered me up—but my movement caught her attention. She turned her head and her gaze settled on me.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted and her expression went a little dewy.

It was so much like the face she made when she reached her climax, I nearly lost my balance.

Our eyes locked. Something passed between us. Electricity. A mutual panic. Or a mutual relief.

She wobbled—her heels were deliciously high—and her lips formed the words, “Oh my.”

And then she fainted.

Part Three: Paige & Danny

Chapter Eight

I had the sense I was floating. Wafting along in the ether, drifting on a cloud. Except clouds didn’t have strong, warm arms. And they didn’t smell like woodsy cologne and cloves. At least I didn’t think they did.

And they didn’t bonk my head on a doorjamb.

“Shit.”
A whispered imprecation. “Sorry, honey.”

Oh God
. I knew that voice. It was a voice I’d heard in my dreams for weeks. One I couldn’t get out of my mind. I cracked open a lid and peered up at the underside of a familiar, dear chin.

“Jimmy?” I croaked.

“Oh lord,” someone to my left said in a high-pitched man-boy voice. “Did she hit her head?”

“She didn’t hit her head,” Jimmy snapped. “We saw her go down. Move all that crap off the sofa.” I loved the tight edge to his tone, his impatience. Because it was for me.

He was a dream, of course. He had to be. But I liked that my dream Jimmy would snap at someone in a frantic effort to make me comfortable.

The sound of dream boxes hitting a dream floor echoed through the room along with the riffle of dream papers and then he lowered me onto the couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable couch, for a dream. I grimaced.

A warm palm scudded over my cheek. “Baby. Are you okay?”

My lashes flittered open and there he was, a bit fuzzy and a lot concerned but as beautiful as ever. My Jimmy. “The couch is lumpy,” I explained.

He glowered at someone behind him. “Why is the couch lumpy?” A growl.

A slender man came into view. He shrugged a shoulder inside his too-large suit. “I never use the couch. I didn’t know it was lumpy.”

“Well it’s goddamn lumpy. Don’t you have anything softer?”

The tiny man paled. Perhaps on account of Jimmy’s snarl. “No.” A squeak.

“It’s okay, Jimmy,” I said, feathering my fingers over his forearm. I couldn’t resist, really. It was so close and I’d been missing him so much.

The tiny man fisted his hands on his hips. “She must have hit her head. She keeps calling you Jimmy.”

Jimmy glowered at him. “Make yourself useful, Ethan. Go get her some water or something.” He turned to me. His voice dropped an octave and went all silky and mellifluous. “Would you like some water, baby?”

I licked my lips. He stared. A muscle clenched in his cheek.

“Y-yes. Yes, please. I would like some water.” I was, suddenly, thirsty. And maybe it would stop the buzzing in my brain.

“Well, go! Go, for God’s sake. She needs some water!”

Ethan sprinted out of the room, bellowing, “Martha! Martha! Water!
Stat!
” as though the very fate of the world depended on it.

For some reason I found this amusing and huffed a laugh.

Jimmy’s gaze returned to me, warmed. “Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“I dunno.” I struggled to sit and he tried to help, but I’d been sitting up by myself for years. As it was, he just kind of got in the way. I put a hand to my forehead to stop the spinning. “I’ve never fainted before.”

His face, his beautiful face, crumpled. “I didn’t mean to shock you.
Shit.
” He leaped to his feet and began to pace the room. “I should have called or something. Maybe I should have come to your office. But damn it, Paige, when I found you again, I thought this was the best way. Really. I did.”

“Can you…” I held out a hand, mortified that it shook.

He was back at my side, on his knees beside me like a shot. “What, baby? What?”

“Can you stop pacing? It’s making me woozy.”

His expression froze in a moue of such overblown contrition, it made me smile. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I took his hand in mine because it was fluttering around me and stroking my hair and my neck and my nose as if he wasn’t sure where to touch me first.

His hand was warm. Real. I turned it over and studied the black hairs spattered on the back. “This…isn’t a dream, is it?”

A grin exploded on his face, something hopeful and happy and maybe a little smug. “Did you think this was a dream?”

“I never expected to see you again. Certainly not today.”

“I never expected to see you again, baby.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m so glad I found you.”

Oh my God.
It hit me like a ton of bricks. He’d
found
me. He’d actually looked.

I don’t know why, but I was suffused with the sudden sense that everything was going to be all right. Jimmy was here with me. Again. I stared at him, taking him in, soaking him in like a summer rain. I sighed.

His smile wavered. He tightened his hold on my hand. “Why did you leave?”

My heart thumped at his tone—aching, wounded, desolate. I affected a shrug. “My vacation was over.”

He blew out an impatient grunt. “Why did you leave without saying anything?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer. Wasn’t sure how to explain something I couldn’t even explain to myself. “What was there to say? I didn’t think you’d care.”

His jaw dropped. “You didn’t think I’d care?”

It burned me, the look in his eye. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” I traced his palm with my thumb. “I should have said good-bye.”

“The hell you should have.”

I blinked.

“You shouldn’t have said good-bye. You should never say good-bye.” Was I hallucinating, or was there a hint of anguish in his tone? “God, I missed you when you left. And I worried and I…” He pulled away and raked his fingers through his hair. “Shit, Paige, I didn’t even know your name.”

“You know it now…” And then. “How do you know it now?”

“You mentioned you were a publicist in LA. You mentioned…She Who Shall Not Be Named. I put two and two together.”

Impressive.

And then, in the same breath, I
remembered
.

Anxiety crawled through my belly. The familiar mortification I’d known since my chat with Marlee rose and spat like a roiling wave.

“You’re not Jimmy.”

Ethan, returning with a paper cup sloshing with water, gusted a sigh. “Oh, thank God. She knows you’re not Jimmy. Martha,” he called through the door. “Cancel 911.”

We ignored him, Not-Jimmy and I. Our gazes locked.

He shook his head, an infinitesimal twitch.

“If you’re not Jimmy, then…who are you?”

“I’m Danny,” he said. “Danny James.”

I gaped at him. My stomach heaved. Those annoying lights began floating before my eyes again. Danny James. The celebrity chef. The one with the book. The one who wanted to hire our firm and maybe use us for other projects as well. The “grown-up” client Suzie had insisted I take. The man I was here to see. In a rush, I remembered his apron, the well-worn one with the familiar logo. Heat rose on my cheeks. “
The Stud Chef
?”

“In the flesh.”

Memories of our week together washed through me and I winced. Gawd. I’d assumed he was a pool boy. I’d assumed he was a dick for hire. I’d taken what I wanted and then just walked away without even saying good-bye. I’d treated him like a
thing
. I buried my head in my hands. “Oh. God. The scallops… The risotto… The truffles!” This last bit I wailed.

He captured my chin and edged it up, forcing me to look at him. The quirk of his lips indicated he wasn’t pissed at me, that he wasn’t seeking some form of evil revenge.

“I am so sorry,” I said.

“I’m sorry too.”

My heart stuttered. “You-you are?”

He chuckled. To my absolute bafflement, he chuckled. “I should have told you I wasn’t Jimmy right away.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Chagrin flickered over his features. He shrugged. “I didn’t want you to leave. I was happy to be Jimmy…for a while. If it meant I could spend more time with you. I was going to fess up, probably, at some point. But you left. God. I nearly died when I woke up that morning and you were gone…”

“
I
nearly died,” I said.

His eyes flared in shock. “Really?”

“Yeah.” A snort. “That cab driver?”

He laughed, a full-bodied roar. “Tell me about it!”

Our gazes tangled then, and his laughter faltered, replaced with something else, something simmering and tense. My pulse thrummed in my ears. I cupped his cheek again and traced the line of his lips, savoring his warmth, his presence. “I can’t believe you found me.”

He shrugged. “Los Angeles isn’t so very big.”

His lips touched mine, a tender, reverent buss.

It didn’t go where I wanted it to go but we were, after all, in Ethan’s office. And the sofa was lumpy.

“So, where do we go from here?” I asked.

His answer was immediate and crisp. “My place.”

I chuckled. “I meant as in this thing between us.”

He nodded. “Yeah. My place.” He glanced at the doorway where no more than three of Ethan’s minions crowded in to watch. “It’s a lot more private.”

Needless to say, I was happy to let him take me there.

It was fantastic, opening the door to my home and ushering Paige inside. I’d always loved my house in the hills overlooking the lights of LA, but bringing
her
there was unlike any homecoming I’d ever known.

I didn’t wait, couldn’t wait. As soon as we passed through the portal I took her in my arms and pressed her against the wall and kissed her.

God, she tasted good. A little like coffee with a hint of vanilla and a lot like
her
.

She responded immediately. I loved that about her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me closer and dove into the kiss the way she dove into a pool—wholeheartedly. Fearlessly. Passionately.

I tightened my hold, angled my head so I could delve deeper. The kiss was riotous and wild. We ate at each other like starved souls presented with a sudden banquet. Her hands flitted restlessly from my shoulders, down my arms and up again. She threaded her fingers through my hair and dug her nails into my scalp, anchoring me there.

She did not need to.

I was anchored.

I was there.

I rubbed my erection against her belly, letting her know, without words, what I wanted. She sighed into my mouth. It tasted like
yes
.

But I knew I needed to take my time, go easy. Bring her slowly to passion.

Not a lot of words had passed between us, certainly not enough to account for this savage need to be with her in any way I could. I didn’t know what she was thinking about us. I wasn’t sure.

So I eased back and ended the kiss, peppering licks and nuzzles against her cheek, her chin, her neck, instead. Her skin was soft and warm, slightly damp. The scent of arousal clung to us.

Need raged through me.

It had been too long since I’d had her. Far too long. But—

“We need to talk.” How I got the words out through the gravel in my throat, I don’t know. I nipped her earlobe. It was far too tempting to resist.

“Mmm.”

“About us. About this.”

“Mmm hmm.” She began a foraging of her own, skating her hot mouth over the line of my chin. She nipped at my lobe in retaliation. Heat skewered me. My cock, already rampant and wild, surged.

Unable to resist, I fumbled with the buttons of her jacket and skimmed a hand inside, up the silken curve of her ribs to capture a breast. She sucked in a hiss as I scored a nipple with my thumb. She wiggled against me.

“Paige…” I intended to warn her, to quiet her, to lead her back into the conversation we needed to have, but she lifted a leg, wrapped it around my hip and pressed herself against me more fully.

My brain seized. A dark haze descended.

God, I wanted her. I wanted her now.

Unable to resist, I molded her thigh and eased my palm down and down, over her beautiful knee, her exquisite calf, her slender ankle and—

My pulse hiccupped. Then shot into overdrive as my fingers found the slick surface of her heels. I traced the line of her foot, her beautiful, beautiful foot. My breath came out in pants.

A memory surfaced of another time between us. The exultant tryst when I’d indulged my desires, kissing and exploring her magnificent bare foot. I’d taken her then, like an animal, on the couch. There was something I needed to remember about that time. It hovered just out of reach. And then it skittered away completely in a rampaging surge of blinding lust.

Because she cupped me.

She reached between us and molded her hand around my cock.

And squeezed.

Fuck it. I could remember later.

I hitched her leg higher and held her with one hand while I slipped beneath her skirt and nudged at the crux of her thighs with the other.

She was hot, wet, ready.