She Does Know Jack (19 page)

“What brother?”

A
heart-stopping, wicked smile curved his lips and curled her toes.

“Good answer,”
he murmured just before he angled her head and kissed her.

Apparently, he
liked her reply. And she liked how he showed his approval. Damn, the man could
kiss. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, and soon, she was reacquainted
with his taste; heady, male and so very, very hot.

He let out a
rough rumble and slid his hands into her hair, holding her close while he
reminded her of their chemistry. Like she could forget.  Long and deep, his
kiss bypassed gentle and went right to
oh hell yeah
really quick.

Her hands fisted
his shirt before they smoothed out, reveling in the play of muscles as her
fingers worked their way up over his broad shoulders to lock behind his head.

He let out
another rough rumble deep in his chest. Or was that her? Didn’t matter. She was
hot, her whole body on fire, needing, wanting, aching for the mind-blowing
release it knew he could give. Bad body. Now was not the time or place. She
needed to keep this to just a kiss, even though she longed to crawl up him and
take in every hard, delectable inch.

All too soon, he
lifted his head and stared at her through sleepy, smoldering eyes. “Damn, every
time…” He dropped his hands to her arms and slowly shook his head. “You have no
idea what you do to me, Brielle.”

“Yeah?” She drew
in a few shaky breaths, forcing her hands to splay on his shoulders and not
crush him close for round two.

“Yeah.” He
nodded, gaze locked on hers. “You drive me crazy. Ever since you stepped onto
this show. Then after the kitchen the other night…”

Again, he paused
as if to catch his breath and his thoughts. She wished him luck.

She was still
trying to gather up her blown brain cells when he lifted his hand to touch her
cheek and lightly brushed his thumb over her lower lip.
Poof.
Just like
that, there was nothing left to gather. Who knew brain cells disintegrated
faster than straw? And damn, if he didn’t stop looking at her like he wanted to
strip her down and eat her up, she was going to need a drooling bib pretty damn
quick. Or end up a puddle of need at his feet.

Ever so slowly,
his other hand slid down her back until it rested on her hip.  “Now it all
makes sense,” he was saying, continuing his delicious caress on her trembling
lip. “My eyes may not have recognized you, but my body sure as hell did.”

To prove it, his
hand tightened and drew her close enough to feel every hard, mouthwatering,
inch straining behind his zipper. She gasped and fisted his shirt as arrows of
white hot need shot through her body in all directions. The urge to rock into
him burned deep, but somehow, she managed to remain still.

He smiled,
knowingly. “Seems your body remembers mine, too.”

She nodded,
causing his thumb to brush both lips, and she tried, really tried to keep that
still thing going on. But failed. Her tongue snuck out, the little devil, and
lightly touched his thumb.

Breath hissed
between his teeth a millisecond before his mouth replaced his appendage for
another mind altering kiss. Shock soon turned to silent cheers as he backed her
against the wall and held her there with his deliciously ripped body, and
proceeded to take out the rest of her brain cells. One. By. One.

Admittedly,
there weren’t many left.

That would explain
why she rocked into him, swallowing his groan while her hands sought the warm,
hard flesh of his abs. Muscles quivered under her fingers, making her heady in
the knowledge she turned him on. That this gorgeous, strong, muscle-bound
former Army Ranger lost control from her touch. Of course, the control thing
went both ways. When it came to his touch, she had none. Gone. Zip. Control
over.

Some part of her
brain knew they shouldn’t be doing this. That there was a reason giving into
this attraction was bad, but damned if she could recall why. Instead, she
moaned as his tongue delved in slow, deep strokes, effectively zapping her
strength, forcing her to cling to his rock hard body like a drowning kitten.

What a hardship.
Not.

Brielle could
feel the heat of his body, the hard play of muscles against her curves, and
heaven help her, her mind clicked off, allowing need to take over. Her purpose,
her job, the cameraman, the investigation, all reason left Brielle. She
trembled into him. She was done fighting their attraction.

Warm hands
glided down her spine, over her bottom, then back up again as he let out
another deep rumble. Beneath her palm, his heart thudded in an unsteady beat,
matching the erratic pulse pumping through her veins. Throbbing with a need born
over seven months ago, she rocked against him again, enjoying the feel of
his
throbbing need. He released her mouth to trail warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses
over her neck and shoulder, drawing out a soft, little hum of desire from deep
in her throat.

“Dodger…”

He stilled and
drew back, meeting her blinking gaze. “What did you call me?”

Smoldering blue
eyes were nearly black and filled with so much heat she had no idea what kept
her from fusing to the wall. “Dodger,” she said between breaths, her body still
trembling. “It’s the nickname I gave you because of the hat you wore at The
Limelight.”

His head lifted
a fraction before something unreadable shot through his gaze. “Brielle, Dodger
happens to
be
my nickname. I got it in the Middle East for dodging bullets.”

For two full
beats they just stared. There was something about the way he looked at her that
made her sweat in strange places. On the third beat, they lunged for each
other, holding tight, kissing deep, wanting more. So much more.

Holy hell
, not again. She
didn’t want a repeat of
the dressing room
, well she did, just not right
there. It would be nice to take things slow and easy, and yet she was powerless
to stop the need that propelled her into his arms, tongue skimming the roof of
his mouth, hands gliding over solid muscles in an attempt to crawl inside. The
man drove her crazy. She wanted to touch him. All of him. Taste all of him. And
he seemed to suffer the same affliction. His lips scorched a trail over her
neck before reclaiming her mouth in a frenzied, mind-blowing show of talent. Oh
God, could this man kiss.

“Jack, Brielle,
you’re on in two minutes,” Greg announced, knuckles rapping on the closed door.

Knocked back to
reality, she broke the kiss and blinked at him while dragging in several ragged
breaths.
Two minutes?
Her fuzzy brain couldn’t compute.
For what?
Inhaling deeply, she became aware of her surroundings. Music replaced the sound
of her out-of-control heartbeat while her mind registered Jack’s heated
expression and the cameraman’s ear-to-ear grin.

Oh boy. What the
hell did she just do?

Leaning her head
back against the wall, she closed her eyes and sucked in several more deep
breaths. Everything was okay. Things could be salvaged, somehow. They had to
be. She needed to think about Uncle Franco and his business, of Matthew’s
safety, not her need for the groom’s brother.

“Brielle.”

She sighed and
opened her eyes; a mixture of heat and worry crossed his handsome face.

“I think we just
proved The Limelight was no fluke,” he said, placing a hand on the wall next to
her head, and lifted the other to push her side-swept bangs off her face.
“We’re downright combustible.”

She let out a
shaky laugh when what she really wanted to do was roar at the truthfulness of
his remark. “Yeah. A veritable spark to gasoline waiting to happen.”

“Agreed.” A
small smile tugged his lips still wet from her kisses. “I’d like nothing more
than to retest that theory right now, but we need to talk.”

Uh oh. She’d
been totally on board for the retesting part, despite her resolution to salvage
her mission. Somehow.

Then stop
kissing the groom’s brother
.

“Okay. What
about?”

“My brother,” he
replied, all traces of heat gone from his face as he stared down at her, his
expression somber.

Damn. She didn’t
want to talk about Matthew. Matthew Anderson was her job. The ‘mark’ she was
hired to keep safe by finding the person responsible for the threats. No, she
didn’t want to talk about him. She’d much rather talk about Jack and his
incredible, amazing kisses. About how her body still ached with unfulfilled
need. How that talented mouth of his…

Oh, boy.
He did it
again. Zapped more brain cells. She ripped her gaze from his lips and drew in a
long, shaky breath in a desperate attempt to regain the capacity to think. 
Hopefully, when the fog lifted, she’d find a few salvageable cells. Hell, she’d
be happy to find just one.

“Well? What
about Matthew?” he asked, gaze growing more serious with each passing second.
“I told you I wouldn’t say anything about The Limelight, but I have to tell him
about this.” He motioned between them with a wave of his hand. “I can’t—I
won’t
keep something like that from him. I have to tell him we’re…”

“Combustible?”
She smiled, despite her dire situation. The love and respect he had for his
brother made her heart flutter and ache in her chest. Jack Anderson was a good
man. A man she’d really,
really
like to get to know better. Not deceive.
Hell, he didn’t even know her real name.

“Yeah,
combustible.” His lips twitched. “I have to tell him.”

“I know.  It’s okay.”

In fact, she
wanted him to. Maybe this would force Matthew’s hand to reveal why she was
really on the show. Yeah, the more Brielle thought about it, the better she
felt. Let him tell his brother about their attraction. She had faith in
Matthew’s ability to handle the situation, and secretly hoped he’d spill the
beans.

“Even if he
sends you home?”

Home? Wait.
“No.” Crud. “I can’t.”

Blue eyes
narrowed while every muscle in his body appeared to tighten at once. “Why n—”

The door swung
open and Greg swept in, cutting off whatever Jack had been about to say.

“It’s time.” A
thousand watt smile on his face, the host leaned against the opened door,
signaling he expected them to leave. “You’re up.”

With the
conversation brought to an abrupt end, Brielle watched Jack clench his jaw and
swallow whatever he’d been about to say. Yeah. Not a happy camper. She, on the
other hand, was never more relieved in her life. They were treading into tricky
territory, and for once, Brielle welcomed the interruption, and was more than
happy to escape
to
the hellish realm of reality TV.

A
fter last night, Jack needed an out for
his restless energy. And the unknown ball of disquiet sitting on his chest
needed to go, too. Or at the very least, needed a name so he could form a plan
of action and annihilate the sucker from existence. What the hell had happened
to the simple, straightforward life he’d once lived? Before threats and
producers and sexy dancers. Before this damn show.

Chlorine
assaulted his nose as he walked across the mansion’s indoor recreation room,
complete with pool, sauna, Jacuzzi, and wet bar.
Unoccupied
recreation
room. Good. He needed to work off some steam and punching the heavy bag wasn’t
going to cut it today. Besides, Rodriguez and Matthew still wore bruises from
his last go round.

Dropping his
towel on a chair, he executed a running dive into the tepid water and didn’t
ease his strokes until he reached the other side. A good start, but not nearly
enough. Surfacing, he drew in air, then immediately switched to the
breaststroke and set out across the pool.

Last night, he’d
made the biggest discovery of his life. Brielle was Ariel. A shock, and yet,
not so much. From the moment the brunette had walked into the gathering room
and
his life a week ago, he’d compared the two. Christ, she twisted him in knots
with her mile long legs, sexy smile, warm brown eyes and that curvy body his
hands couldn’t resist. And now he knew why. Because he hadn’t resisted.

Seven months
ago, he’d held that body. Hell…he’d been
in
that incredible body for a
glorious few minutes.

He cursed and
dove under the water, trying to out-swim his desire for the woman who gasped
when he kissed her neck, moaned when he brushed against her, panted when he
drove home…

Shit. This
wasn’t working. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He hadn’t done a good job
of putting Ariel from his mind, until this show. Until Brielle. No wonder. He
snickered as he switched directions in the pool.

Touching
Brielle, kissing Brielle was the most incredible experience he’d ever known.
When he’d returned to the mansion early this morning, he had to stand under the
cold shower for a full twenty-five minutes. A record for Capt. Jack
Anderson—whose heart dodged entanglements faster than he dodged bullets. He’d
learned his lesson with Holly, having stayed entangled-free for seven years
before Caroline had managed to fool him with her polished charm and fake
sincerity. After her, he was done. That was it. The crazy desire to settle down
and maybe start a family blew apart into tiny smithereens. That would require
taking chances, and he was done taking chances. Wasn’t he?