Reckless (Renegades #1) (5 page)

UNKNOWN: Business. What do you do?

JAX: What’s your guess?

UNKNOWN: Construction.

JAX: Good guess, but no.

UNKNOWN: Model.

JAX: Excuse me while I choke on my coffee.

UNKNOWN: Give me a break. Totally possible. Escort?

Jax chuckled.

JAX: Now that has potential. Are you looking?

UNKNOWN: That is a complex question.

JAX: We’ll come back to it. What do you do?

UNKNOWN: Dress designer.

Jax muttered a curse. She couldn’t have done something he could talk intelligently about, for Christ’s sake?

JAX: And how does a dress designer know about hacking phones?

UNKNOWN: I didn’t say *I* hacked your phone.

JAX: Sneaky. Okay, I’ll let it go for now. But I don’t think I’ll be able to speak on the topic of dress design.

UNKNOWN: Good. It’s the last thing I want to talk about. You haven’t told me what you do.

A woman who didn’t want to talk about herself? Now that was definitely different for Jax. And a welcome change.

JAX: I was working the escort angle. But I’d like to know a little more about you before I say yes.

UNKNOWN: You must be a salesman.

JAX: Another good guess. I have been known to sell an Otter Pop or ten to Eskimos. But back to us, my problem is that I could be chatting up an eighty-year-old transvestite. We should probably get a few things straight if we’re going to continue this flirtation.

UNKNOWN: There is no us…yet. And we’re just chatting.

The “yet” gave Jax a little zing in his gut. Yet while part of him found this exciting, another part found it incredibly…pathetic…somehow.

JAX: Discussion of toys in one’s pockets, drooling over one’s hot…er…jacket, insinuating the pleasure of tasting one’s personal places…that would have to fall into the flirting category.

UNKNOWN: Oh my. I did do all that, didn’t I? I’ve passed more comfort zones than I’d realized. I suppose I have to admit to flirting.

JAX: Great, now that we’ve got that straight…you are female, correct?

UNKNOWN: Correct. You are straight, correct?

That made Jax laugh out loud. From his peripheral vision, he noticed a few people look over at him. But, again, in the next moment, he puzzled, wondering if the woman truly didn’t recognize him or if she was pretending not to recognize him. He’d had women play the strangest games and do the strangest things over the years, all because in their own twisted minds, they thought it would make them more attractive to him.

But Jax was a firm believer that he couldn’t win if he wasn’t in the game. He was also fully prepared to strike out, and he had a bevy of let-down lines cued in the event that this went wrong.

JAX: Correct. You are not involved with a significant other, correct?

UNKNOWN: Nice question, and correct. You’re scoring quite a few points, Biker Boy. And you?

Jax quirked a grin.

JAX: Biker Boy?

UNKNOWN: Sorry, a nickname, since I don’t know your name.

JAX: Uninvolved. What’s your name? Do you live here?

UNKNOWN: Lexi. I do. How about you?

JAX: You hacked me…why don’t you already know that information?

UNKNOWN: I told you I didn’t hack you. Okay, not really. I’m testing an app for my friend who’s a programming wizard. She put in privacy guards, so I can’t see any of your personal information.

This was wild. Just a peek at what Jax already knew went on every day in the cyber world. If he thought about how many different ways his privacy was breached by legal and illegal entities, he’d be a paranoid lunatic. And he had enough problems.

UNKNOWN: You don’t have to tell me your name. I’ll still talk to you as Biker Boy.

Jax laughed and took a second to reassign her ID with her name. This was a good time to give her his and see how she reacted.

JAX: Lexi’s nice. Sexy and smooth. Beautiful and playful. Maybe even a little naughty. I’m Jax.

He watched his phone in anticipation. This would be the test. If she’d been lying about knowing who he was, feigning ignorance, she’d be disappointed by his name. Jax was his middle name. During his acting years, he’d gone by Bentley, his given name. When he’d left acting to start Renegades, he’d gone back to Jax, the name he’d used growing up.

LEXI: You’ve got to be kidding me.

Damn. His stomach tensed with disappointment. She’d had such promise. Well, this wasn’t the first time he’d been wrong. Especially about a woman.

JAX: Nope. Jaxon. People call me Jax. Why?

He braced for anger at the discovery that she’d wasted her time flirting with someone who wasn’t who she’d thought.

LEXI: Because the name is as hot as you are. Fits you nicely. So what do you do, Jax?

Since she hadn’t reacted as he’d suspected to the name, he moved forward.

JAX: I’m a stuntman.

The first hesitation in their conversation had Jax staring at his phone for an extended moment, sensing the information had tripped some invisible wire.

Five

“No…” Lexi whispered the word in dread and pulled off her Bluetooth.

She let her stare blur over the page in her sketchbook where she’d been doodling.
Dammit
. All the bubbling excitement slowly cooled to a simmer. Then went flat.

A stuntman.

He would know her clients. She’d already told him her first name. Already told him she was a dress designer. Already told him she lived in LA. Those three pieces of information entered into Google would tell him all there was to know about her if he cared to search deep enough.

“Shit.” She should have known better than to try to play this game.

Stupid.

Her cell vibrated in her hand, and Lexi started.

JAX: Lexi? Did I lose you at stuntman?

Lexi swallowed and slipped on the Bluetooth again.

LEXI: Sorry. So you’re in the movie industry. Do you act too?

She closed her eyes, and disappointment came down heavy on her shoulders. He was funny, easygoing, quick, and clever. It might be pathetic, but she was having more fun in these twenty minutes of texting with Jax than on too many of her real dates.

JAX: No acting. I do the hard, dirty, crazy work while the actors lounge in their trailers. Best possible job—but don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret. Do you have issues with the industry?

Lexi bit her lip and answered honestly.

LEXI: I know as much about the movie industry as you do about dress design. I don’t even own a television. I like movies, but I don’t have time to go. I haven’t been to one in forever.

JAX: You’re shitting me.

LEXI: Last movie I saw in theaters was…hold on, have to think…oh, Into the Blue.

JAX: Into the Blue. The scuba movie?

LEXI: Yes. With Paul Walker and Jessica Alba. My friend, the one who wrote this program, has it bad for Paul Walker.

JAX: Lexi…that movie was released in 2005!

She laughed softly. She liked this side of him. He’d lightened up since they’d started texting. At least she’d helped with his tension, not added to it.

LEXI: Exactly. I have to say your end of the business sounds the most fascinating. I imagine it’s challenging? Fun as hell? Let me guess—you’re an adrenaline junkie.

JAX: Yes. Yes. And definitely. Why don’t you come sit with me? I’d love to hear more about your plans while you’re in New York.

Lexi closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Regret and anger surged beneath her ribs. This offer felt as important to her personal life as the offer of her designs on the May cover of every bridal magazine would to her business. And she felt trapped against taking it. She knew what Rubi would say if she were here, but Lexi also knew she wasn’t Rubi. She didn’t have a trust fund to fall back on. She couldn’t live her life however she pleased without any repercussions on her business.

LEXI: Another time, another place, I might take you up on that. But right now, you’re a little too tempting for my blood. The offer is…difficult to turn down.

JAX: Too tempting? Is there such a thing?

LEXI: You’re proof. I’m not up for any involvement at this stage of my life and I can see…even from a distance…it would be plenty difficult not to want to get up close and personal with you.

JAX: I’ll admit, that was my hope—you wanting to get up close and personal, not being too tempting.

“Ah, hell,” she muttered. “Don’t tell me that.”

LEXI: You don’t even know what I look like. How can you make that kind of statement?

JAX: 1) Deductive reasoning. You have to be close to know what you know and every woman I can see is fairly attractive. 2) I like your personality, so your physical appearance isn’t a deal breaker.

Lexi bit her lip. Seriously, could she let this guy go? Maybe he was full of shit, but there was only one way to find out. She glanced over her shoulder toward Justin James and the other reporter, still sitting there, chatting. Lexi wondered if they were both on the flight. Wondered where they would sit. Wondered what in the hell she was thinking.

Her phone vibrated.

JAX: Would you feel better if you told me what you looked like? Why don’t you give me a little visual, you know, something to fantasize with. Blonde, brunette, redhead?

She didn’t answer right away, but it couldn’t hurt to see how he reacted to someone less than perfect.

LEXI: Blonde.

JAX: Refreshing. Hair long, medium, or short?

LEXI: Long.

JAX: Nice. Natural or bottle?

Lexi grinned.

LEXI: If I had a ruler, I’d smack your hand for asking.

JAX: I’d probably like that. Under or over 21?

LEXI: Over.

JAX: Under or over 30?

LEXI: Under, you?

JAX: Under…just. Over or under 5’5”?

LEXI: Over.

JAX: Over or under 5’9”?

LEXI: Under.

JAX: Perfect. Measurements?

LEXI: Not unless you’re interested in sharing yours.

JAX: 46 regular, 32x34 Levis, 12 shoe. Your turn.

LEXI: Not as perfect as yours.

JAX: Perfect is a matter of opinion. Though I’m glad I fall in your favorable category.

Lexi hesitated, sighed. Nothing was going to come of this. Another reason to lie.

LEXI: 34-28-34

JAX: Hot. Cup size?

Lexi strangled a laugh.

LEXI: Penis size?

JAX: I’m assuming you mean erect. 9” length, 2¾” diameter, which corresponds to 8½” girth. Cup size?

Lexi made a sound in her throat. She was good with measurements—centimeters, inches, yards… But she still had to form the sizes with her hands to get the full effect. And, boy, did her body get the full effect. Her sex clenched around a shot of fire.

LEXI: LOL. You wish. How did you come up with those measurements anyway?

Across the space, Jax’s laughter reached her ears, and Lexi’s mouth curved in a frustrated smile. She liked making him laugh. Loved the sound of it.

JAX: I don’t wish. I know. Got them during a stupid drunk challenge when I was much younger. I’d love the opportunity to tell you the story, and…let you verify through experience.

“Oh God.” Her mouth was watering.

LEXI: Whoa. This flirtation just jumped to a whole new level. I think I’m running a fever.

More of Jax’s laughter drifted through the lobby and over Lexi’s body. The sound twined with the sensations his words created in the strangest and most unique sensual experience.

JAX: Whatever you’ve got is spreading to me, baby. I’ve got to take this jacket off. If you come over, I’ll give it to you—to keep.

LEXI: You’re such a tease. That is a wicked ploy.

JAX: I’m a lot of things, but a tease is definitely not one of them. If you come talk to me until we board, it’s yours. Scout’s honor.

Lexi’s heart pounded. Her chest felt tight. Her sex felt tight. Her skin felt tight. She wanted Jax to stretch everything out. She licked her dry lips.