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He knew he should hate Alicia, but he couldn’t forget the beating she’d taken from the press for the past few weeks. Ever since that article about how he’d appointed Mitchell Butler treasurer of Houses for Hurricane Victims, and about how all the funds had vanished, he’d really been able to relate to what she must have been going through.
She looked too crushed and defenseless cowering in the back of that car, so utterly unlike the tall, elegant woman he’d bedded or the defiant woman who’d told him to go to hell the next morning. He couldn’t hate her. Fool that he was, his chest constricted with sympathy.
A cop, who was probably Officer Thomas, pointed needlessly toward his car. “She’s over there.”
“Thanks.”
Jake loped past the reporters, his Italian loafers sinking into the ooze of his soaked lawn as he made his way toward the patrol car.
“Alicia?” he muttered in a harsh tone as he rapped his knuckles on the glass window.
She rolled the window down a few inches and his gaze roved the length of her willowy body, taking in her white, translucent skin. Mascara ran beneath her long-lashed, almond-shaped, brown eyes. Wet, dark ropes of her hair stuck to her neck. Despite her thinness and her pallor, she affected him every bit as intensely as she had their one night together.
Opening the door, he took her hand, which felt icy, and helped her out.
She wore a white, gauzy dress that clung. When his gaze lingered on the raindrops moistening her full lips, he remembered with an almost visceral ache exactly how soft that mouth had been against his and exactly how sweet she’d tasted.
His lips thinned as other memories of the intimacies they’d shared assaulted him. With all her problems, why was she here?
“Thank you for coming so fast,” she said.
“How did you get here?” he asked.
“Taxi.”
“Well, you were reckless to come in a public taxi and let your horde follow you.”
“I—I didn’t think. Sorry I embarrassed you.”
“You could have called me. We could have met somewhere discreet.”
“Sorry. I hate all this as much as you do.”
The officer had been right about her looking ill. The brown eyes that had sparkled with fire each and every time he’d kissed her or licked her that night were dull and glazed with pain.
“Meow!”
Frowning, Jake looked across his yard and saw Officer Thomas talking to the reporters. Jake’s selfish agenda would be best served if he told the officer to see about her. But an unhealthy mixture of curiosity, sympathy and some self-destructive emotion that was better left unanalyzed overpowered him.
Fool that he was, instead of signaling for the policeman, he grabbed her hand and pointed her in the direction of the sidewalk that led to his front door. Then he leaned inside the car and picked up Alicia’s suitcase and her cat carrier. Hissing, the animal lunged at the walls of his cage. Ignoring the beast, Jake strode up the walk after Alicia. Pulling out his keys, he unlocked his door, then thrust it open so violently it banged the wood paneling of his interior wall.
He stood to one side so that she could enter. Reluctant to follow him, she remained frozen, her skirt dripping, her eyes staring at him, so he said, “In case you didn’t notice, I’m inviting you inside.”
“I noticed,” she whispered in a sexy croak that unnerved him.
“So, ladies first.”
A bolt of lightning was followed by a crash of thunder. Then several flashbulbs went off in their faces.
Yowling, Gus hurled himself against the side of the cage, rocking it even harder.
“Your cat says he thinks going inside would be a very good idea,” Jake said.
“He has issues about water, not to mention thunder.”
“Well, if you came over here to grant interviews on my porch, enjoy. But Gus and I have had enough of our five minutes of fame. We’d prefer to go inside and open a can of tuna.”
Once he had set her cat and her bag down inside his ultramodern foyer, which was now covered in glass shards, he ran his hand along the slick, polished surface of his paneled wall until he found the light switch. Flipping it on, he looked back outside. She was still glaring at him.
“Your foyer is not exactly neutral territory,” she whispered.
“Don’t remind me.”
Suddenly he was remembering how they’d torn off their clothes the last time they’d stepped across his threshold. He hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights. Once naked, they’d launched themselves at each other. Heat engulfed him as he remembered how they’d sunk to the floor, and he’d straddled her on top of the Kilim carpet on which he now stood. He’d thought her adorable and sexy as hell.
More flashbulbs captured her ashen face.
The worried little crease between her dark brows deepened and she went even whiter. When he reached for her anxiously, she sprang away from him and jumped across the threshold.
Damn it, he’d only wanted to soothe her. Hell, maybe it was a good thing she’d stopped him.
She plastered herself against his mahogany wall as far away from him as possible, her delectable breasts heaving beneath that thin white dress that clung closely.
The memory of what he’d done to those pink-tipped breasts made him feel much too warm. With a start he realized he’d awakened every night since aching for her sweetness and sexiness.
Annoyed that she was so afraid of him and he so jittery around her, Jake slammed his door. Once it was bolted against the goggle-eyed reporters and their flashbulbs, she began to shiver.
“You’re freezing,” he said, stating the obvious in a harsh tone to conceal his concern.
“S-sorry. A-air-c-conditioning.” Struggling for control, she sucked in a breath. “I’m dripping all over your fancy floor, too.”
“It’s stone. It won’t melt. But wait here. I’ll turn the AC off and get you some towels.”
Thankful for an excuse to leave her and get a grip on himself, he strode down the hall before she could object and quickly adjusted the thermostat. Ducking into his guest bath, he grabbed some fluffy white towels. When he returned, he ripped off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders and placed the thick towels in her hands.
Although their fingers touched briefly, it was long enough for him to register that her soft skin felt like ice.
With a breathless sound she cringed away from him.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she wrapped a towel around her head and began to pat her hair dry. “I’m s-sorry to be so much trouble.”
“No trouble.” He tore his gaze from her stricken face.
How could he actually want to help her? Whatever was wrong was no business of his. There were at least a dozen reasons why he should hate her, most of them names of people his charity couldn’t build houses for and employees he would soon be forced to fire. But she looked too much like a drowned waif for him to even consider chastising her in any way at this point. The feds and reporters hounding her seemed to have that job well in hand.
Steeling himself against the impulse to hold her close until his body warmth made her stop shaking, his voice was rougher when he spoke. “You’ll feel better when we get you out of those wet clothes and dry you off.”
“We?” She blushed at his suggestion. His own heart began to thud as he realized how that comment had sounded. With an effort he forced himself to look anywhere but at her softly alluring breasts.
Had she deliberately dressed in that filmy, see-through number so he’d want to stare at them? Impotent rage that she could arouse him so easily swept over him.
“What I meant to say is there’s a bathroom down the hall. You probably remember showering in it.”
When she reddened, he wished he hadn’t reminded them both they’d showered together.
“I’ll bring you a robe and more fresh towels,” he said, his tone more clipped.
Glad for the excuse to leave her again, he went back down the hall. But he was soon much too aware of her heels clicking rapidly on the flagstones behind him.
When she stepped inside the bath, the beige marble walls seemed to close in, trapping him. Staring down at her, he recalled again how they’d laughingly showered after making love all over his house. He’d washed her hair, dried her off, taken her back to bed where he’d held her close for hours.
He backed out of the bathroom on the pretense of finding her more towels and his robe. For his own sanity he knew he should figure out what she wanted and then get rid of her as soon as possible. But as he grabbed the robe off a hook in his master bath, he knew he wasn’t going to do anything so sensible.
She’d fascinated him from the first moment he’d seen her in that tight gold sheath on his brother’s arm at his grandfather’s eightieth birthday party. When Cici had asked him to look after Alicia so she could dance with Logan, he’d jumped at the chance. Then Logan had disappeared with Cici, and he’d offered to drive the stranded Alicia home.
Over a late-night coffee he’d found her even sweeter than she was gorgeous—not at all like her calculating father. A writer and an editor, she hadn’t been the shallow rich girl he’d expected. She’d been intelligent and insightful. When he’d kissed her after she’d laughed at one of his jokes, they’d both gone up in flames.
The morning after they’d made love, Logan’s CEO, Hayes Daniels, had presented him with irrefutable proof that her father was a criminal. When Jake and his CPA had checked the books and bank statements for Houses for Hurricane Victims, they’d discovered alarming discrepancies. Jake had gone with Hayes to turn Mitchell in to the feds.
Since her father was a crook, a crook he’d blown the whistle on, Jake should rid himself of her immediately. But she looked so lost.
Even after he’d discovered her father had robbed Houses for Hurricane Victims, she’d consumed his thoughts. He’d called her repeatedly. Not that she’d answered. No doubt she blamed him for her father’s downfall.
How could he still find her attractive? But he did.
From their first tentative kiss, when her velvet-tipped fingers had singed his flesh through his cotton shirt and her lips had been so soft and hot as they’d parted for his tongue, his groin had tightened with unbearable need.
That a single kiss could have given such a contagion of pleasure should have been a warning. Instead, he’d staked his claim by arching her body against his.
He still wanted her. Which meant he should make her leave before he did something really stupid.
Two
After sweeping up the glass in the foyer and opening a can of tuna in the kitchen, Jake was unlocking the cat crate to let the beast out when he heard a crash from the bathroom.
Ears flat, the cat raced out of the kitchen so fast he collided with a china flowerpot and knocked it over.
Ignoring the cat and the dirt spilling from the shattered pot, Jake ran down the hall to check on Alicia.
“Alicia?”
When she didn’t answer, panic slammed him.
“Alicia? Alicia! Are you all right?”
No answer.
When he pounded on the door with his fists and there was no response, he tried the doorknob, which turned. He shoved it and the door flew open, thick vapors enveloping him. “Alicia?”
Blindly he made his way through the steamy mists to the glassed-in shower-tub and slid the door open.
Through the steam he saw her lying in a crumpled heap, warm water streaming over her naked thighs. Shutting off the faucet, he leaned down and picked her up. Grabbing the towels and robe she’d placed on a stool, he clutched the unconscious woman and carried her down the hall into his den. She wasn’t heavy, so he bore her easily.
He was careful not to a glance at her nude body more than necessary. Still, his gaze did linger on the heart-shaped birthmark on her left breast that he’d once tongued so ardently the night he’d made love to her. Settling her onto his couch, he couldn’t have cared less how the water might stain the expensive leather. He was too worried about her.
He lifted her wrist and felt a pulse. He smiled when it was steady and strong. Maybe she’d knelt down for something she’d dropped and had stood up too fast.
“Alicia! Wake up!”
She mumbled something he didn’t understand and then turned her face away from him.
Had she hit her head? Did she have a concussion?
“Daddy!” she whispered. “Daddy! Where are you? Why can’t you ever, just this once, stay home?”
Was she delirious? Thinking to inspect her scalp for injuries, Jake slid his fingers through her hair. Parting the thick waves with his blunt fingers, he discovered a lump.
“Open your eyes!” he commanded.
Much to his surprise, the long, feminine lashes fluttered. Her plump, sexy lips quivered.
Brown irises slowly filled with light as she struggled to focus. “Jake … it’s you? What’s wrong? Why are you shouting at me?”
She reached out and took his big hand, sending a sexual shock of awareness through him. “Where am I?”
“My living room.”
“What am I doing here?”
That was the question upper most on his mind, but he couldn’t ask her until he was sure she was all right.
Slowly, as she continued to stare at him, her expression changed.
“Where are my clothes?” Her voice rose. “What did you to me?”
“Not a damn thing that I shouldn’t have, so calm down. You fell in the shower. I heard a crash, rushed inside, turned the water off, carried you here, dried you, put you into my robe and checked your pulse. And now that you’re conscious and yourself again, I think we should call your doctor.”
“No need for that! I’m fine,” she said huffily. “Or at least I would be if …” She stopped, clearly troubled by some new thought.
“Did you faint? Or trip?”
She stared at him. Her eyes were huge, wary. “Everything just went black. I guess I fainted.”
“Like I said, you should see a doctor.”
“I will. But not right now. I’m very hungry. I … I haven’t eaten much for a couple of days.”
He’d read in some newspaper that reporters stalked her every time she left her apartment, even to go to the grocery store. Had she been starving herself as a result? Again, he fought the impulse to feel sorry for her.
