The Talk of Hollywood (7 page)

‘So …’ Jaxon waited until the butler had been in to clear away their used plates before leaning forward. ‘Have I told you how lovely you’re looking this evening …?’

That air of intimacy between them became even cosier—in fact the temperature in the room seemed to go up several degrees! ‘No, you haven’t—and I would prefer that you didn’t do so now, either,’ Stazy bit out determinedly.

He raised dark brows. ‘I thought you asked me for honesty earlier …?’

‘Not that sort of honesty!’ Her eyes flashed a deep disapproving green. ‘We’re work colleagues, Jaxon, and work colleagues do not comment on each other’s appearance if they are to maintain a proper working relationship.’

‘You sound as if you’re speaking from experience …?’

Colour warmed her cheeks. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Feel like telling me about it …?’

Her mouth firmed. ‘No.’

Pity, because Jaxon would have liked to know more—a lot more!—about Stazy’s personal life. ‘Most of the actresses I’ve worked with would be insulted if I didn’t mention their appearance at least once a day.’

Stazy shot him an impatient frown. ‘Well, I assure you in my case it isn’t necessary. Or appreciated.’

He smiled ruefully. ‘I thought all women liked to receive compliments?’

‘I would rather be complimented on my academic ability than the way I look,’ she stated primly.

Jaxon might have been more convinced of that if Stazy’s hand hadn’t trembled slightly as she picked up her glass and took a sip of the red wine. ‘That’s a
little difficult for me to do when I know next to nothing about your academic ability—other than you’re obviously good at what you do—but I can clearly see how beautiful you look in that red dress.’

Those green eyes darkened. ‘We aren’t out on a date, Jaxon, and no amount of compliments from you is going to result in the two of us ending up in bed together at the end of the evening, either—Damn, damn,
damn!’
she muttered, with an accusing glare in his direction as the butler returned to the dining room just in time to hear that last outburst.

Jaxon barely managed to keep his humour in check as Stazy studiously avoided so much as looking at him again as Little hastily served their food before beating an even hastier retreat. ‘Guess what the gossip in the kitchen is going to be about later this evening …’ he murmured ruefully.

‘This isn’t funny, Jaxon,’ she bit out agitatedly. ‘Little has worked for my grandfather for years. I’ve known him all my life. And now he’s going to think that I—that we—’ She broke off with a disbelieving shake of her head.

‘Oh, cheer up, Stazy.’ Jaxon smiled unconcernedly. ‘Look on the bright side—at least I now know where I stand in regard to the possibility of sharing your bed tonight. With any luck, after hearing your last remark, Little will decide to put lighted candles on the dinner table for us tomorrow evening, in an attempt to heat up the romance!’

Much as she hated to admit it, Stazy knew she didn’t need any ‘heating up’ where this man was concerned! And considering it was now July, and the evenings stayed light until after ten o’clock at night, she didn’t think there was much chance of any candles appearing
on the dinner table—tomorrow night or any other. In fact it was still so light at the moment that the curtains hadn’t even been drawn over the floor-to-ceiling windows yet, and the view of a beautiful sunset was certainly adding to the air of romance.

Whatever cutting reply Stazy might have wanted to make to Jaxon’s suggestion was delayed as Little returned with a laden tray, his face completely expressionless as he served their main course without meeting the gaze of either one of them before quietly departing again.

‘You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?’ Stazy eyed Jaxon impatiently as he grinned across the table at her.

Jaxon chuckled softly. ‘So would you be if you would just lighten up a little. Oh, come on, Stazy—just think about it for a minute and then admit it
was
funny,’ he cajoled irritably as she continued to frown.

‘I’ll admit no such thing! You—’

‘Ever heard the saying about the lady protesting too much …?’ He raised mocking brows. ‘I’ve been told that when a lady does that, it usually means she wants you to do the opposite of what she’s saying.’

‘Whoever told you that was an idiot!’ She gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘And if you weren’t my grandfather’s guest I would ask you to leave!’

‘Pity about that, isn’t it?’ he murmured dryly.

Stazy threw her napkin down on the tabletop before standing up and moving away from the table. ‘If you will excuse me—’

‘No.’

She stilled. ‘What do you mean, no?’

‘Exactly what I said—no.’ The humour had gone from Jaxon’s voice and expression, and there was a dark scowl on his brow as he threw down his own napkin
before standing up to move purposefully around the table towards her.

Stazy raised a protesting hand even as she instinctively took a step backwards—only to find herself trapped between a looming Jaxon in front of her and a glass cabinet containing china ornaments behind her. ‘Stop this right now, Jaxon—’

‘Believe me, I haven’t even started yet,’ he growled, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw as he towered over her. ‘In fact I think maybe we should just get this over with and then maybe we can move on!’ he muttered impatiently.

Stazy looked up at him with startled eyes. ‘Get what over with …?’

He gave a shake of his head and lifted his arms to place them either side of her head so that his hands rested on the doors of cabinet behind her, his body almost, but not quite, touching hers. ‘For some reason you seem to have decided that at some time during my stay here I’m going to try and seduce you into my bed, so I thought we might as well make a start!’

‘You—’ Stazy’s protest came to an abrupt end as she realised that lifting her hands and placing them against Jaxon’s chest, with the intention of pushing him away from her, had been a bad idea. A
very
bad idea.

Her hands lingered. His chest felt very warm to her touch through the soft material of his shirt—like steel encased in velvet as his muscles flexed beneath her fingers. The smell of his cologne—cinnamon and sandalwood—combined with hot, hot male was almost overwhelming to the senses.

Almost?

Stazy ceased to breathe at all as she stared up at Jaxon with wide, apprehensive eyes. Was he right?
Had
she been ‘protesting too much’? When in reality she had been longing for this to happen?

God, yes …!

Much as it pained her to admit it, Stazy knew she had thought about Jaxon far too often for comfort in the last six weeks. Damn it, she had even fantasised earlier about what it would be like to be naked with Jaxon, making love with him.

But wanting something and getting it weren’t the same things, were they? For instance she had wanted an expensive microscope when she was ten years old—had been convinced at the time that she intended to be a medical doctor when she was older. Her parents had bought her a less expensive microscope, equally convinced that it was just a fad she was going through, with the promise of buying her the more expensive microscope one day if she ever
did
become a doctor.

Maybe not the best analogy, but Stazy no more needed Jaxon in her bed now than she had really needed that very expensive microscope nineteen years ago.

In other words, allowing Jaxon Wilder to kiss her would be an extravagance her emotions just didn’t want or need!

Stazy liked her life ordered. Structured. Safe!

Most of all safe.

She had learnt at a very young age that caring for someone, loving them, needing a special someone in your life, was a guarantee of pain in the future when that person either left or—worse—died. As her parents had died. As Granny had died. As her grandfather, now in his nineties, and with that heart attack only a few months ago behind him, would eventually die.

Stazy didn’t want to care about anyone else, to need
anyone else—couldn’t cope with any more losses in her life.

‘Don’t do that!’ Jaxon groaned huskily.

She raised startled lids. ‘Do what?’

‘Lick your lips.’ The darkness of his gaze became riveted on the moistness of those lips as Stazy ran her tongue nervously between them. ‘I’ve been wanting to do exactly the same thing since the moment we first met,’ Jaxon admitted gruffly.

Her eyes were wide. ‘You have …?’

He rested his forehead against hers, his breath a warm caress across her already heated cheeks. ‘You have the sexiest mouth I’ve ever seen …’

She gave a choked laugh. ‘I thought it was universally acknowledged that that was Angelina Jolie?’

‘Until six weeks ago I thought so too.’ Jaxon nodded.

He had fantasised about Stazy’s mouth these past six weeks. Imagined all the things she could do to him with those deliciously full and pouting lips. Grown hard with need just thinking of that plump fullness against his flesh, kissing him, tasting him. As he now longed to taste her …

‘I’m going to kiss you now, Stazy,’ Jaxon warned harshly.

‘Jaxon, no …!’ she groaned in protest.

‘Jaxon, yes!’ he contradicted firmly, before lowering his head and capturing those full and succulent lips with his own, groaning low in his throat as he found she felt and tasted as good as he had imagined she would!

If Jaxon’s mouth had been demanding or rough against hers then Stazy believed she might have been able to resist him. She
hoped
she would have been able to resist him! As it was he kissed her with gentle exploration, sipping, tasting, as his mouth moved over and
against hers with a slow languor that was torture to the senses. Taste as well as touch.

Those chiselled lips were surprisingly soft and warm against her own, his body even hotter as Jaxon lowered himself against her with a low groan, instantly making her aware of the hardness of his arousal pressing against her own aching thighs.

Unbidden, it seemed, her hands glided up his chest and over his shoulders, until her fingers at last became entangled with the overlong thickness of that silky dark hair.

He pulled back slightly, and Stazy at once felt bereft without the heat of those exploring lips against her own.

‘Say so now if you want me to stop …’

‘No …’ She was the one to initiate the kiss this time, as she moved up onto her tiptoes, her lips parting to deepen the kiss rather than end it as she held him to her.

It was all the invitation Jaxon needed. He pressed himself firmly against the warm softness of her body as his hands moved to cup either side of her face so that he could explore that delicious mouth more deeply, tongue dipping between her parted lips to enter and explore the moist and inviting heat beneath.

Her taste—warmth and the sweetness of honey, and something indefinably feminine—was completely intoxicating. Like pure alcohol shooting through Jaxon’s bloodstream, it threw him off balance, ripping away any awareness of anything other than the taste and feel of Stazy’s mouth against his and her warm and luscious body beneath him.

He could only
feel
as Stazy wrapped her arms more tightly about his shoulders and arched her body up and into his, her soft breasts against the hardness of his chest, the heat of her thighs against the hot throb of his
arousal. His hands moved down to her waist before sliding around to cup the twin orbs of her bottom to pull her up closer to him.

Jaxon kissed her hungrily, his arousal a fierce throb as Stazy returned the hunger of that kiss, lips hot and demanding, tongues duelling, bodies clamouring for even closer contact.

As Stazy had expected—feared—the tight control she usually exerted over her emotions had departed the moment Jaxon began to kiss her. Her nipples had grown hard and achingly sensitised, and the heat from their kisses was moving between her thighs—a feeling she hadn’t experienced even when fully making love with those two men in her past.

She didn’t want Jaxon ever to stop. Every achingly aroused inch of her cried out for more. One of his hands moved to cup the fullness of her breast, sending hot rivulets of pleasure coursing through her as his thumb grazed across the aching nipple. Stazy pressed into the heat of his hand, wanting more, needing more, and Jaxon lifted her completely off the floor to wrap her legs about his waist.

She no longer cared that they were in her grandfather’s family dining room, or that Little could walk back into the room at any moment to remove their dinner plates.

All she was aware of was Jaxon—the heat of his arousal pressing into her softness, the pleasure that curled and grew inside her as he squeezed her nipple between thumb and finger, just enough to increase her pleasure but not enough to cause her pain, the hardness of him sending that same pleasure coursing through her.

She whimpered in protest as Jaxon broke the kiss, that protest turning to a low and aching moan of pleasure
as his mouth moved down the length of her throat, his tongue a hot rasp against her skin as he tasted every hot inch of her from the sensitivity of her earlobe to the exposed hollow where her neck and shoulder met. And all the time his thighs continued that slow and torturous thrust against her.

Stazy still felt as if she were poised on the very edge of a precipice, but no longer cared if she fell over the edge. She wanted this. Wanted Jaxon. He felt so good, so very, very good, that she never wanted this to end …

Jaxon pulled back with a groan, his forehead slightly damp as it rested against hers. ‘Lord knows I don’t want us to stop, but Little is sure to come back in a few minutes …’

Stazy stared up at him blankly for several seconds, and then her face paled, her eyes widening with dismay as she took in the full import of what had just happened. ‘Oh-my-God …!’ Her expression was stricken as she struggled to put her feet back onto the floor, her face averted as she pulled out of Jaxon’s arms to hastily straighten and pull her dress back down over the silkiness of her thighs.

‘Stazy—’

‘I think it’s best if you don’t touch me again, Jaxon,’ she warned shakily, even as Jaxon would have done exactly that.

His arms dropped back to his sides as he saw the bewilderment in her eyes. His tone was reasoning. ‘Stazy, what happened just now was perfectly normal—’