The Trouble With Love (9 page)

Wanting to lighten the mood on the ferry ride back, Jayce had asked Rocky for an update on all things Sugar Creek, and she’d lapsed into a ramble about the upcoming Spookytown Spectacular and Sam’s foray back into the dating scene. Before she knew it they’d taken the subway to Times Square, where she had gawked at the fantastic weirdness and glitz of the theater district and Jayce had scored tickets to a Broadway musical she’d never heard of but would never forget. The old theater, the live orchestra and astonishing voices!

Now they sat in a famous little restaurant finishing off the desserts that had followed their posttheater supper. Rocky was exhausted yet buzzed on the whirlwind day and, okay, a little high on the gorgeous man sitting across from her. She realized suddenly that she’d yet to ask pointed questions about his life.
Where had the day gone?
She’d meant to ask Jayce why he’d left the police force, about his home life in Brooklyn, and then the waiter brought the check and Rocky got distracted.
Again.
“How much?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried. I just want to know what my half is.” As far as she was concerned, there was a fine line between enjoying someone’s hospitality and taking advantage. “I’ve been trying to keep a mental tab throughout the day, but you’re not making it easy. Those theater tickets, for instance. They had to cost a fortune. And now this big dinner at Sardi’s?”

“I’ll mail you an itemized tab.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re right. I won’t.” Jayce slipped a credit card into a small leather folder along with the bill. Then he glanced up and smiled a little at Rocky, who couldn’t decide if she wanted to punch or kiss him. “You’re family, Rocky. My city. My treat.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You know what? I’m not going to argue.”

“Good.”

“I’ll just estimate and pay you back after I get home. Better yet, I’ll call Dev in the morning and have him wire some money.”

“You hate asking Dev for money.”

“I hate owing you worse. Besides, I can’t go another day away from home without any cash.”

“I could—”

“Forget it.” Rocky forked up the last bite of her New York Cheesecake. Yes, she’d gone for the most clichéd item on the dessert list. Just stamp a
T
for “tourist” on her forehead alongside the butterfly strip. Reminded of the mugging, she touched her fingertips to her wound. She felt like such a fool.

“Head hurt?”

“What?” Rocky blinked. “Oh. No. Well, not as much as my pride anyway and not as bad as my feet. I’m not used to spending an entire day in spiky-heeled boots hoofing it all over God’s asphalt city.”

Jayce pushed away his half-eaten Tiramisu. “No dancing then.” He glanced at his watch. “Too early for the best clubbing anyway.”

Rocky glanced at her own watch. “It’s almost midnight.”

“It’s also New York City.”

It may as well have been another planet. Rocky had felt like an alien all day. Out of sorts. Out of step. She’d never thought of herself as a country girl or a hick, but this city had given her new perspective. It had also made her think about the publishing contract for the Cupcake Lovers on a new level. What if the recipe/memoir book did as well as the editor and publicist anticipated? What if it did mean media interviews? Tasha would light up in front of a TV camera. She’d parry with a reporter and strive to charm viewers. Rocky would fuss with her neckline and fidget under the spotlight. She’d bore the pants off of everyone with background on the founding of Cupcake Lovers and details regarding their charitable efforts, whereas Tasha would at least be entertaining. Tasha probably
was
the better spokesperson for the club. Not an easy thing to admit.

“You okay?”

“Don’t I look okay?” Rocky raised an apologetic hand. “Strike that.” Unsettled, she’d fallen back on snark. “I just…” She leaned forward a little and lowered her voice. “I’m not much of a dancer. And honestly? I’m not into the whole flashing-lights, earsplitting, club-mix-music, couples-basically-humping-on-the-dance-floor scene.” She raised a brow, seizing an opportunity to know Jayce better. “Are you?”

“Only when I have to be.”

Which wasn’t really an answer.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Sure.” Rocky ignored a wave of disappointment. Yes, she was exhausted. She’d been up since before dawn. She’d been mugged, hit by a car, challenged by a business meeting, and overwhelmed by a day of sightseeing alongside the man who haunted her dreams. Still, she didn’t want this night to end. “I didn’t learn anything about you today.”

“Then you weren’t paying attention.”

Rocky pondered that as Jayce escorted her out into the kinetic night. She thought back on the last several hours and realized that although Jayce hadn’t talked about himself, he’d shown that he was thoughtful, generous, and protective. He knew New York City inside and out—both historically and geographically. He was not easily flustered or intimidated. He liked Broadway musicals, Cobb Salad, and seafood and tolerated street-vendor hot dogs. He had a soft spot for carriage horses and was cynical about crime.

A few other things came to mind, and Rocky realized she’d learned quite a bit about Jayce today. She’d also enjoyed their time together. When Jayce visited Sugar Creek, it was impossible for Rocky to forget their sketchy past and prickly situation. Here in New York, it was almost as if they were meeting for the first time.

Pulse racing as he guided her through the bustling and brilliant chaos of Times Square, Rocky caught sight of the Empire State Building, its steepled top illuminated by three shades of color. “Look how beautifully it’s lit up.”

Jayce looked to where she pointed, then squeezed her waist. “You good for another hour or so?”

Rocky’s heart nearly burst through her ribs. Another hour with a man who fried her brain cells with the most innocent touch?
Hell, yeah.
“Why?”

“Your wish list. I know a way to kill two birds with one stone.”

*   *   *

As far as touristy events went, visiting the Empire State Building ranked high. When he’d first moved to New York City, Jayce had checked out the view from the 86th-floor observatory. He’d also climbed higher to the 102nd-floor observatory, but he’d never visited at night with a date. Had never even contemplated the romantic boon of a live jazz saxophonist who strolled the deck three nights a week playing standards and the occasional requested song. Jayce remembered reading about the added attraction in one of the city guides—“especially popular for marriage proposals, anniversaries, and special events such as Valentine’s Day.” He remembered wondering what kind of sap fell for that sort of schlock. He never imagined he’d be said
sap.

“Beautiful,” Rocky said as she devoured the 360-degree view of the city that never slept.

Jayce agreed. The view was magnificent. But he wasn’t looking at the sparkling landscape; he was looking at Rocky. The observatory was open-air and, eighty-six stories above ground level, prone to gusty winds. Many of Rocky’s curls had been blown free from the loose, tousled style Jayce had created earlier in the day. He watched as she pocketed the hair clip and allowed her long hair to whip unchecked around her gorgeous face. He absorbed her natural beauty, illuminated by the moonlight. Breathed in her clean, flowery scent. Sensed a shift in her mood as he crowded her space.

“I can’t decide if that music’s annoying or a unique touch,” she said, moving away and along the security wall. “It sort of ruins the serenity of a breathtaking view. On the other hand…” She glanced at a couple snuggling a few paces ahead. “I suppose music has its perks, depending on the circumstance.” She stopped then and looked over her shoulder at Jayce. “Bring a lot of women here, do you?”

“You’re the first.”

She blinked at that.

“Considering the circumstance,” Jayce said, moving toe-to-toe with the blue-eyed beauty, “the music’s a perk.” The lone saxophonist segued from an unfamiliar rambling song to a melodic version of a Cole Porter ballad, and Jayce took Rocky into his arms.

Her spine stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Fulfilling your wish list.” He held her close and slowly swayed. “Not the same as dancing in a club.”

“No,” she said in a soft, tense voice. “But it’ll do.” She relaxed against him a little, wrapped her arms around his neck.

Jayce swallowed hard as she rested her head against his shoulder. What do you know? This
was
romantic. But where did he go from here? He’d never second-guessed his actions with a woman, but Rocky wasn’t the random date. She was his best friend’s little sister. Jayce had taken her virginity. He’d proposed marriage. He’d distanced himself from the people he loved in order to protect Rocky’s virtue and his reputation with her family. Alienating the Monroes would have been akin to cutting out his heart.

Leaving had been all too easy.

It hadn’t occurred to him at the time, but Rocky’s disdain had afforded Jayce a prime reason to escape the crushing guilt associated with his parents’ deaths. He knew that now, and the knowledge was troubling.

Resisting dark thoughts, Jayce splayed his hand across the small of Rocky’s back and focused on a hopeful future. Should he share his plans?
I’m moving home. Starting fresh. That includes pursuing a relationship with you.
Would she be angry? Intrigued? He could definitely count on shocked.

“This is weird,” Rocky said, but she didn’t push away. “This whole day, I mean. Us. Together. No tension.”

“Not the resentful kind anyway.”

“Yeah. The sexual pull. It’s pretty intense.”

Direct as always.

“I don’t want to go home feeling like this, Jayce. I need to … I
want
to be over you.”

Well, hell.

“I want to move past my resentment, to let go of this silly, girlish infatuation. I’m almost thirty years old. Time to grow up.”

His heart pounded like a mother. Just this morning he’d shipped his belongings off to Sugar Creek. He’d given up his rent-controlled office. He’d made a mental transition. Moving back to a small town. Renovating his parents’ house and dealing with the memories trapped within those walls. Reinforcing old relationships and making new ones. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but leave it to Rocky to push his patience and restraint to the limit.

“So we’re going to ignore the obvious.”

At last she shifted and looked up into his eyes. “I was thinking it might be smarter to scratch the itch.”

He raised a brow.

“Once satisfied…”

“The craving will vanish?”

“Exactly.”

He didn’t believe that, but he did see another way, a damned pleasurable way, to advance his intention of winning over the woman in his arms. “Fair warning, Dash. You’re playing with fire.”

She nipped his lower lip and wiggled her lower body brazenly against his erection. “I’ll take my chances.”

CHAPTER NINE

Rocky had never been promiscuous, but she wasn’t celibate either. She had a healthy sexual drive and had indulged in a few noncommitted liaisons. Relationships had never been her forte. She had a dominant personality and a mind of her own, a turnoff to most of the men who’d shown interest in her. Plus, she was fiercely dedicated to the Red Clover. Building and maintaining her business took up most of her time. She was, after all, a one-woman show—hostess, cook, housekeeper, and recreational advisor. She was also devoted to her family and to Cupcake Lovers and their charitable efforts. She didn’t have the energy or the desire to cultivate and nurture a serious monogamous relationship. That’s why her arrangement with Adam Brody had been so perfect. Great sex with no strings. Then Adam had gone all screwy on her after Jayce had boarded at the Red Clover for a week. Or maybe Rocky had been the one to go screwy on Adam. Bottom line, Adam had developed genuine feelings for Rocky and Rocky was still hung up on Jayce.

She hoped to extinguish that ancient fire by letting it burn wild for one weekend. A fantasy weekend far from Sugar Creek where no one would be the wiser.
What happens in Manhattan stays in Manhattan.
She mentally chanted that mantra on the two-block walk from the Empire State Building to the Hotel Chandler. She didn’t want to think beyond her “scratch-the-itch-and-it-will-go-away” decision. If she did, another kind of logic might intrude. She didn’t want to be cautious or sensible. She wanted to seize the moment. The sexual pull was too dynamic, too tempting, to ignore. Who wanted to ignore the possibility of erotic utopia?

They walked in silence, and with every step Rocky’s stomach coiled tighter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this insanely hot for a man.
Wait.
Yes, she could. The night she’d crawled through Jayce’s bedroom window with the express intention of having sex. She’d been young, naïve, cocky, out-of-her-gourd horny, and hopelessly in love. Now she was older, wiser, cocky, out-of-her-gourd horny, and … curious.

She’d only made love with Jayce that one time. She’d been inexperienced. Now she wasn’t. Maybe she’d find his lovemaking skills less than spectacular. Maybe he’d be selfish and deprive her of an orgasm. Or maybe she’d go frigid under his touch. Either one of those things would shed new light on an old infatuation. Great sex wasn’t everything, of course. But the physical attraction was what had held Rocky prisoner all these years. Lust, pure and simple. Okay. Maybe not so simple. But at least she recognized its power. If she couldn’t move past this, if she couldn’t break the spell, conquer the addiction, she’d never find complete happiness.

Take control,
she thought as Jayce slid the key card home and opened the door to her hotel room.
Control your destiny.

Then the door shut and he was all over her. An aggressive kiss that shut out rational thought.

Holy hell.

His hands—in her hair, shoving off her coat, stroking her curves.

His mouth—taking possession, working magic on her lips, her tongue.

For a moment she thought she’d been blinded by passion, but then she realized neither one of them had turned on the lights. “Want to see you,” she managed while shoving his coat from his broad shoulders.