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A woman who can’t resist a handsome face and a gorgeous body. A woman who lives in a fantasy world instead of reality. A woman who’s not in complete control of her life.
She’d tried to tell herself that she’d felt some kind of connection with Jack after the day they’d spent together, a meeting of minds and not just bodies. Finally, though, she came to her senses and realized she was just deluding herself. Such self-deception was nothing more than an excuse to justify her outlandish behavior.
What she couldn’t figure out, then, was why she’d spent a good portion of every day since wondering what it might be like to see him again.
She had to stop this. She had her career to think about. The last thing she needed was to get waylaid by thoughts of a man who had undoubtedly put another notch in his bedpost before she’d even left the hotel. And seeing him again was a moot point, anyway. It wasn’t going to happen. He was a thousand miles away in San Antonio. He could be her imaginary husband as long as she needed him to be, and nobody would be any the wiser.
And she would never have to be tempted by him again.
BY TWELVE-THIRTY, JACK HAD checked out four of the five architectural firms and come up empty. He’d found a few women named Rachel, but none that he recalled seeing naked in San Antonio.
The elevator doors opened on the thirty-eighth floor, and Jack stepped out. This was his last chance. If she didn’t work for Davidson Design, he didn’t know where to look next. He took a deep breath, opened the brass-trimmed glass doors and strode to the front desk. The receptionist, a bright, bubbly redhead with short, shaggy hair, held up her finger without glancing at him, asking him to wait as she answered one call after another.
Jack gazed around the room. Typical corporate look, with beige walls, modern art, leather furniture, track lighting. He decided he’d rather die and go to hell than be surrounded by this frigid atmosphere. At least hell would be warm.
And right in the middle of the ice box sat a leather-clad guy, his shirt open almost to his navel, with a neckful of silver chains and a couple of random piercings and tattoos. A boom box sat on the chair next to him. He leaned over and checked out his reflection in the coffee-table glass, patting a stray strand of blond hair back into place. He flipped his wrist and glanced at his watch, then tap, tap, tapped his fingertips against the arm of his chair.
“Hey, lady!” he called out to the receptionist. “I got a schedule to keep!”
The receptionist covered her mouthpiece and responded in a heavy stage whisper. “I told you it’ll be just a minute! Will you keep your shirt on? At least until I tell you to take it off?”
With a disgusted shake of her head that made her short red hair flutter, she tapped a button on her console, then finally turned her gaze up to Jack.
“May I help—”
Her mouth dropped open. She froze in that position, staring at him, her eyes as big and bright as a pair of flashlight beams.
“Dr. Kellerman?”
Doctor?
“I can’t believe it! You made it back!”
Made it back?
“Oh! Oh! You must be here to surprise Rachel!”
“Did you say Rachel?” His heart leaped with hope. “Late twenties, straight dark hair, blue eyes—”
“Well, of course!”
The woman yanked off her headset, tossed it aside and leaped to her feet, scurrying around the desk. “She’s not going to believe this. She’s simply not going to believe it. Oooh! What a wonderful surprise!”
She spun around and pointed to the kid in the waiting area. “You! Never mind! I don’t need you after all!”
The guy leaped to his feet, his silver chains jangling. “Hey! I’ve been waiting here for fifteen minutes, and now you’re telling me—”
“I’ll send you a check!”
Before leather boy could protest further, the receptionist grabbed Jack by the arm and dragged him down a short hall, then stopped suddenly and pushed him up against the wall, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Okay. You stand here. Just wait here until I give you the word, okay?”
“I don’t get this. What are you—”
She put her fingers to her lips and shushed him, then held up her palm. “Just wait here. This is going to be so cool!”
This place was a loony bin. Or, at least, this woman was loony. And he was pretty sure the guy in the waiting room had a screw loose, too. What in the world had he walked into?
The receptionist pushed the door open and strolled into the office, downshifting her voice into a soft, professional tone.
“Excuse me, Rachel. Do you have a moment?”
“I’m really busy, Megan. Can it wait?”
“No, I’m sorry,” Megan said, her voice edged with excitement. “It can’t wait. Your real birthday present is here.”
Jack heard a gasp.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yeah. And you’re gonna love it.”
“No, Megan. I’m warning you. The cupcake was plenty. Don’t you dare do something weird. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare—”
Megan’s hand snaked around the doorway, found Jack’s arm, and yanked him into the office. The moment his eyes met Rachel’s, she leaped up out of her chair so suddenly that it rolled backward and smacked against her credenza.
Looking at her up close now, he knew. It was Rachel. No question about it.
Not that he would have recognized her by the clothes she wore. After the weekend they’d spent together, he would have expected to see her in something significantly more daring than the drab wool suit and buttoned-up white silk blouse she had on right now. Something brighter. Slinkier. Cut down to here and up to there. Something bold and carefree. Something that said, Come here, if you dare, instead of Don’t touch me if you value your life.
But there was a part of her she couldn’t hide behind those yards and yards of wool. Her eyes. He’d never forget those eyes as long as he lived, gorgeous ice-blue eyes that had kept him enthralled for hours on end.
But now they seemed to hold another quality. Surprise. No, not just surprise. Something more like…
Panic.
Megan patted Jack’s arm. “I’d have put a big red bow on him, but I was fresh out of ribbon. Happy birthday, Rachel.”
3
RACHEL’S BRAIN WAS TELLING her mouth that it really ought to close itself, but the message simply wasn’t getting through.
Jack Kellerman. Her imaginary husband, in the flesh.
Oh. My. God.
“Hello, Rachel.”
That voice. Rich. Resonant. A voice just made for seduction. Only one of many reasons that she’d been so easily…seduced.
“Your husband!” Megan gushed. “Can you believe it? All of a sudden I looked up, and there he was! He traveled four thousand miles to surprise you on your birthday! Isn’t that just the most romantic thing ever?” She gave Jack an appreciative once-over, then stage-whispered to Rachel. “His picture doesn’t do him justice.”
“Picture?” Jack said.
“The one on her credenza. She stares at it all the time. Now I know why.”
Jack’s gaze flicked over to the photograph. Rachel felt her cheeks flush hotly, an anatomical glitch she’d been cursed with since childhood. Like a pair of internal humiliation indicators, her cheeks became ripe tomatoes whenever she was embarrassed. And Jack noticed it. How could he not? She didn’t remember one single part of her body that had escaped his scrutiny six months ago, and nothing was escaping him now.
Absolutely nothing.
Jack eyed the photo for a moment, then looked back at Rachel. When his brows dipped down with a confused expression and he opened his mouth to speak, she knew he was only a few words away from turning her career into toast.
“Jack!” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
She circled her desk, rushed toward him, threw her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. “Play along. Please.”
Then she tried to ease away from him, but to her surprise, he pulled her right back up against him, holding her as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks and was making up for lost time.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “Have you missed me?”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Uh…of course. You know I have.”
A smile eased across his face. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”
Kiss him?
Rachel swallowed hard, knowing she had no choice. She gave him a quick peck on the lips, and his face fell into a disappointed frown.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said. “It’s been so long. Surely you can do better than that.”
She inched toward him again, but this time, as her lips approached his, he tucked her head into the crook of his elbow, bent her backward, and showed her exactly what kind of kiss he was talking about.
Rachel’s heart leaped wildly as his mouth fell against hers. Her lips had parted in a tiny gasp, and that small opening was all he needed to ease his tongue into her mouth, twining it sensually with hers. At the same time, he slid his free hand beneath her suit coat and around her waist, splaying his fingers against the small of her back. He held her firmly, possessively, demandingly—kissing her in a way that could bring a dead woman back to life.
And Megan was watching the whole thing.
If Rachel had any inclination to pull away, that stopped her cold. After all, Megan thought Jack was her loving husband, back from a long trip. Wouldn’t she want him to kiss her?
Yes. Of course. She had no other choice. She had to let him kiss her.
And kiss her.
And kiss her.
Aeons seemed to pass before he finally pulled her to her feet and eased his lips away from hers. He gave her a suggestive smile, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Megan’s expression of absolute astonishment.
“Wow,” Megan said, her mouth hanging open. “I mean…wow.”
Rachel eased out of Jack’s grip, feeling as if he’d literally taken her breath away. She gave her suit coat a nervous tug, then smoothed it with her hands, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. Tall order with Jack still looking at her as if he was only one moment away from clearing the top of her desk with a sweep of his arm, then hurling her down on top of it and having his way with her.
“Megan,” Rachel said, “I’d like to be alone with Jack for a few minutes. If you’ll excuse us?”
“Well, of course,” Megan said. Then she leaned in and said quietly, “Hey, if you want to lock your door for a little while, I’ll just tell everyone you’re in a meeting.”
“Not that kind of alone!”
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”
Every word he uttered in that gorgeous, hot-as-sin voice made all kinds of provocative images fill Rachel’s mind. She remembered lying in the darkness of that historic San Antonio hotel room, listening to Jack whisper a litany of sex talk that had set her on fire. What he wanted to do to her. What he wanted her to do to him. What they were going to do to each other. All night long. And right now, if she hadn’t been terrified of the massive lie she was getting ready to be caught in, she’d have melted right into the carpet.
“We want to talk,” she told Megan.
“Gotcha,” Megan said. “Have fun…talking.”
She gave them a little wave of her fingertips and a great big smile, then eased out the door. Rachel spun around to face Jack.
“What in the hell are you doing here?”
He folded his arms over his chest, those green eyes sparkling like crazy. “Well, from what I can tell, it appears I’m here to wish you a happy birthday.”
“You have to leave. Now!”
“Are you kidding? I just traveled four thousand miles to be with you on your birthday.”
She closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm. “How did you find me?”
“Sheer accident. I’m here in Denver on business, and who do I see getting into a cab? The woman who walked out on me six months ago without so much as a goodbye.”
No. This couldn’t be happening. No.
“And now, for some reason,” Jack went on, “your receptionist seems to think I’m somebody else. She’s got the Kellerman right.” He raised his eyebrows. “But there’s this little matter of my being your…husband?”
Rachel squeezed her eyes closed. “Please, Jack. Will you just go?”
“No. I don’t think so. Not just yet.”
He looked at the photograph on her credenza again, then strode over to the flower arrangement on her desk. Before she could stop him, he picked up the card. Rachel buried her face in her hands.
“To my darling Rachel,” he read aloud. “Sorry I can’t be with you on your special day. I’m counting the minutes until we can be together again. Your loving husband, Jack.” He turned back to her with a smile of pure delight. “Damn, I’m romantic. Didn’t know I had it in me.”
“Just put it back, will you?”
He returned the card to its place, then turned and leaned against her desk. “Okay. Suppose you tell me what’s going on here.”
“Just leave. That’s all I want you to do.”
“Oh, no. If you’re going to pass me off as your husband, I’ve got a right to know why.”
