A Man to Believe In Read online

  He swallowed hard. “Could I have that drink now?”

  “Sure. Iced tea? Wine?”

  As if they had a mind of their own, his eyes focused on her strappy black sandals and long slender legs as she moved into the small kitchen. When she turned to pull two glasses from the cupboard, he rested his gaze on the smooth, creamy skin of her back. His gut tightened into a hard knot. “Scotch. If you have it. On the rocks.”

  Her hands trembling visibly, Cori poured two drinks. The ice cubes crackled as the warm liquor dribbled over them, and she splashed almost as much scotch on the counter as in the jelly-jar glasses. Stalling for time, she wiped the spilled liquid and carefully rinsed out the rag.

  Then, after taking a deep, calming breath, she picked up the drinks and carried them over to Jake. She held out his glass. When he took it, his fingers brushed hers, a light touch really, yet she felt a flash of excitement clear to her toes. She sighed, wondering if the entire evening was going to be one test of endurance after another. She hoped not, and moved around the coffee table to sink down onto the couch.

  Jake followed her lead. She’d expected him to sit next to her, and was relieved when he sat down at the opposite end, putting a little distance between them. For a minute or so they sipped scotch in silence. She felt her stomach begin to calm. Jake settled back and rested one arm casually on the top of the sofa, then turned to look at her. Nervous again, Cori crossed her legs.

  That was a mistake. She’d forgotten about the deep slit up one side of her dress. The jersey parted, revealing a generous length of one thigh.

  Their eyes met, and she watched as his gaze slowly slid down her body and rested on her exposed leg.

  Cori jumped up, smoothing the material down and tugging at the hem with one hand as she juggled her drink in the other.

  As if sensing the tension in the room, Max chose that moment to awaken. His movements drew their attention, as Cori was sure they were meant to do. With the spotlight now on him, he stretched leisurely for a few seconds, then hopped down off the rocker and sauntered over to investigate the stranger.

  “What’s his name?” Jake reached down to stroke Max’s back. He smiled when the cat purred.

  “Max. Mad Max. See these?” Cori pointed to several long scars on the cat’s head, relieved to have something to do besides worry about her dress. “When I found him, he looked as though he’d been in a fight at the Thunderdome, only this time Tina Turner came out the winner.” She remembered the way his fur had been matted with blood, and wrinkled up her nose. “He was a mess. Isn’t that right, big guy?” Max purred louder, then moved closer to Jake and rubbed against his leg, shedding orange hair as he did so.

  “Max, no!” Cori set her drink down and clapped her hands together, sending the animal scampering. “I’m sorry. I can get that hair off in no time.” She rushed into the kitchen and returned with a clothes brush. “Stand up.”

  Obediently, Jake moved away from the couch and into the middle of the room. Cori bent over and began swiping at the mess, using brisk downward strokes. The pant leg flapped loosely in response. Before he could stop her, she braced her hand on his thigh to keep the material from shifting.

  Instantly, Jake’s muscles tensed under her warm fingers. He felt a hot streak pierce him and knew his control had reached the breaking point. Without thinking he reached down and grabbed her arms, bringing her to her feet.

  “That’s enough.” His harsh tone surprised him, and he told himself not to be so abrupt with her. Maybe she didn’t realize the effect she had on him. Gently, he pushed her away from him and released her arms. “I think you got all of it. Thanks.”

  Cori nodded. “I … guess we’d better get going.”

  She turned to get her wrap. When she bent over, her dress hugged the delicate flair of her hips and the hem rode up slightly, offering him another teasing glimpse.

  Jake closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For a moment he wondered how in the world he was going to make it through the evening without touching her. Then he wondered why he’d ever vowed to do so in the first place.

  Six

  Jake opened the car door and offered Cori a steadying hand as she settled onto the passenger seat of the low-slung vehicle. Her eyes nearly level with the dash, she could see the full moon reflected in the mirrorlike finish on the hood.

  A silver Porsche. The man was full of surprises.

  “What happened to the mud wagon?” she asked with a teasing smile as he slid behind the wheel, knowing full well he hadn’t missed the shocked expression on her face when she’d spotted the shiny sports car.

  “I loaned it to my foreman this afternoon,” he answered. “His wife’s about to deliver a baby, and his truck broke down three times last week. He needed reliable transportation for a change.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  Jake stepped on the clutch and shifted into gear. “I hope you don’t mind having to make do with this.” When she didn’t respond right away, he leaned closer and asked, “You didn’t really think I would take you to the ballet in a dirty pickup, did you?”

  Cori had the good sense to look embarrassed. “I guess I underestimated you.”

  His eyes on the road, he reached over and took her hand in his, then brought her fingers to his lips and placed several soft kisses across her knuckles. “It’s never a good idea to underestimate me, Cori.”

  No kidding, she answered silently. His unexpected actions, coupled with the quietly spoken warning, set off a series of fluttery sensations in the pit of her stomach. In spite of the chilly November evening, she was warm. Very warm. She slipped her hand from his and wrapped it around her beaded purse. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Jake’s hands were once again anchored on the thick steering wheel. For now she could relax, enjoy the ride.

  They rode in silence, the sleek sports car hugging the pavement as they wound around the curves of the narrow Pasadena freeway. Lights from the dash cast a faint glow over the car’s interior. She surveyed the stereo, the rich leather upholstery, the cellular telephone that matched the one she’d seen in his truck. “This is a beautiful car, Jake. Immaculate too,” she added, grinning as she pantomimed a white-glove inspection of the dashboard.

  “I guess I do give this baby preferential treatment,” he admitted with a deep chuckle. “But I don’t think my foreman will mind using the … mud wagon, as you so aptly put it.”

  Cori laughed. “It was awfully nice of you to let him borrow your truck.”

  He shook his head. “It was the least I could do. I was afraid their first child would be born at the side of the road on the way to the hospital.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Jake nodded. “The man makes a great foreman, but he doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of a vehicle.”

  “That makes two of us. I know how to put air in the tires and gasoline in the gas tank, but that’s the extent of my ability, and lately it hasn’t been nearly enough.”

  “Your car’s been giving you problems?”

  “Has it ever.”

  She launched into a description of all the things that had gone wrong with her Volkswagen in the past few weeks. Jake listened, making sympathetic noises here and there and asking several questions before announcing that it probably just needed a basic tune-up.

  “That’s what I’m hoping. I can’t afford an expensive repair.”

  “Don’t worry.” Jake patted her hand reassuringly. “It’ll be easy to fix. Cheap too.”

  The auditorium was filled to near capacity by the time Jake and Cori arrived. All around them people spoke in whispers, the hushed tones adding a special excitement to the highly charged atmosphere. Cori felt the anticipation build within her as the usher handed them their playbills and led them to their seats.

  Cori had been to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion several times in the past few years, for a play, a concert, and a performance of The Nutcracker last Christmas. Each time, she’d attended the less-expensive
matinees, purchasing a seat ten minutes before curtain time to save money. Even if she’d been able to afford a ticket here in the founders’ circle, they were seldom available. Season subscribers always got first crack at the choicest seats. Like the one she was sitting in right now.

  “I smell a rat!”

  Leaning forward slightly, Jake shot a discreet glance under their chairs. “In the founders’ circle? I doubt it.” He straightened, not bothering to hide a facetious grin.

  “All this time I’ve been trying to figure out how Marsha managed to set this whole thing up, but she wasn’t the only one in on it, was she?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “These tickets weren’t a prize at all, were they?”

  He raised his right hand. “Scout’s honor. We won them fair and square.”

  Cori eyed him suspiciously. “Where did Marsha get them?”

  Jake took her hand and, turning it over, drew lazy circles on her palm with one finger. Mesmerized by his touch, she watched him trace a path up her arm until he reached her chin. With gentle pressure he forced her to meet his smoky blue gaze.

  “A friend of mine gave me the tickets,” he said quietly, “and I gave them to Marsha to use as a prize. Then … you and I played a very good, very exciting game of charades … and won. Now,” he said, running the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, “is there anything else you want to ask me before I kiss you?”

  A tremor of desire shot through her. “Yes. When?”

  “Right now.” As if on cue, the houselights began to dim, and Jake lowered his head toward her.

  Darkness settled around them as he captured her mouth in a devastatingly sweet kiss. His lips were firm yet gentle as they moved over hers, igniting flames throughout her body. Her heart pounded. He molded his lips to hers, and she drew his tongue into the warm recesses of her mouth, welcoming his intimate exploration. In the silent darkness, surrounded by people, Cori felt wicked—marvelously, deliciously wicked.

  The orchestra began to play. Jake drew back, slowly ending the kiss. A single dim light focused on the stage, and the curtain parted.

  Throughout the ballet Cori tried to give her undivided attention to the performance she’d wanted to see so badly, but failed. Each scene was intertwined with memories of Jake—soft caresses during the Rose Adagio, a stolen kiss as Aurora’s godmother waved her wand and the court fell asleep. Cori felt as if Jake were casting a spell over her too. He hadn’t used a spindle like the wicked Carabosse, or a magic wand like the Lilac Fairy, but the effect was every bit as powerful, every bit as enchanting.

  No matter how many times she told herself she was just getting caught up in the excitement of the ballet, Cori knew it wasn’t true. What she was feeling had nothing to do with pretty costumes or skillful dancers or Tchaikovsky’s glorious score.

  When his shoulder brushed against hers, a delectable shudder racked her body. When she crossed her legs, her knee skimmed his thigh and her pulse leapt into her throat. And when he leaned closer to whisper comments into her ear, his warm breath feathered over her skin and sent tiny shivers up her spine.

  For the first time ever, Cori found herself wishing a ballet would end. She wanted—needed—to be alone with Jake.

  After the way he’d kissed her when they were surrounded by people, she had to wonder what would happen when they were finally alone again. The answer that came to mind caused a ripple of anticipation to roll through her, and surprise dissolved into acceptance. By now she knew exactly what to expect from the man.

  His seduction had started the moment he’d held out the bouquet of daisies, and had continued without mercy—with a sexy smile here, a tender touch there, a kiss when she’d least expected it—until the hunger building inside her all evening could no longer be ignored.

  From the moment she’d met Jake she’d been trying to label her feelings toward him as mere physical attraction, but what she felt was far more complicated than that. The more she got to know him, the more she admired him. He was a successful businessman—she’d begun to notice his company signs on huge projects all over the city—and a caring employer. He was a loving son and a responsible man his mother and sisters learned they could depend on after Martin Tanner had left them high and dry.

  Cori had to admit it. Jake was a great guy. Sexy as sin too. Most women would jump at the chance to have a relationship with him. Which was exactly what she was about to do.

  Cori watched the male lead execute a magnificent jeté and her heart took a soaring leap as well. Why deny it? She wanted Jake. She wanted him soon.

  Jake glanced down at the illuminated hands of the watch he’d inherited from his grandfather and bit back a nasty oath. Was this damn thing never going to end? He didn’t know how much more he could take. Every time he touched Cori his heart hammered louder in his chest. Any contact with her, however innocent, seemed to send him into a tail-spin.

  He’d considered hauling her out of there in the middle of the third act and kissing her senseless in the lobby, but rejected the idea immediately. That would never work. For one thing, as much as he hated ballet, he knew Cori loved it. She would never forgive him for making her miss the pas de deux of the Bluebird and Princess Florine. And on a more practical level, a few kisses in a dark corner of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion would never be enough to satisfy him. He needed to hold her, touch her, feel her naked skin beneath his hands. He needed to make love to her. Soon.

  Jake heard his grandfather’s voice counseling patience and let loose a frustrated sigh. He’d waited this long. What was another half an hour, more or less?

  Moonlight streamed in through the kitchen window. Soft-glowing embers were all that remained of the roaring fire Jake had built when they’d first arrived, and the bottle of chardonnay they’d picked up on the way home from the ballet was nearly empty. They’d been back at her place for over an hour, and he hadn’t made a pass at her yet.

  Not one.

  Cori wanted to scream.

  Instead, she took a sip of wine and set the glass down next to her on the braided rug. “Pass me the popcorn, please.”

  From his position on the floor in front of the fireplace, Jake handed her the bowl. “Not much left.” He rolled from his side onto his back and positioned a navy-blue pillow beneath his head. Firelight played over the rugged features of his face, creating mysterious shadows.

  She fished through the unpopped kernels in the bottom of the bowl, salt and butter clinging to her fingers. “The only ones left are the old maids!”

  “Appropriate, don’t you think?”

  Cori looked up to find him watching her, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Explain yourself, mister.”

  She watched him loop his fingers together as he slipped his hands under his head and closed his eyes. He’d shed his suitcoat and loosened his tie before stretching out in front of the fire. His gold cuff links lay on the edge of the hearth, where he’d set them before rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. His dark hair bore the tunnel marks that resulted each time he ran his fingers through his curls. He looked so relaxed. Cori felt like a tightly wound spring ready to snap.

  “I’m waiting for an answer,” she said.

  His eyes still closed, he said, “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-nine. You already know that.”

  “Have you ever been married?”

  She drew her brows together and frowned. “No.”

  Jake opened his eyes and rolled back to his side to face her, propping his head on his hand. “I rest my case.”

  Cori set the empty bowl beside her and smiled. Two could play this game. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-seven.” He grinned. “And you already know that.”

  “Have you ever been married?”

  “Nope. That makes me a bachelor.” He reached for his wine and drained the glass in one long swallow. “You, on the other hand, are an old maid. According to tradition, of course.” She threw a pillow at him. He ducked, then held up a
hand to cease her attack. “But you’re in luck.” His gaze swept over her from head to toe, and she felt a warm glow shoot through her veins. “I have a thing for old maids.”

  Cori’s eyes never wavered under the intensity of his challenging stare. They’d been headed for this since the first time he’d slipped his arms around her waist at the Halloween party. She understood that. What she didn’t understand was why he was holding back. He wanted her. She was sure of it. And she was tired of waiting for him to make his move.

  Slowly, she stretched out next to him, then reached over and grabbed his tie. She pulled it toward her, forcing him closer. “Prove it,” she said.

  Jake slid his arm around her and pulled her beneath him. “Are you sure? Once I get started, I won’t stop until I’m convinced you believe me.”

  “How will you know?”

  He brought his hand up and brushed his knuckles across her cheek, thinking it was a miracle he’d lasted this long without touching her, grateful that the agonizing wait had finally come to an end.

  “We’ll both know,” he whispered, and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Cradling her head in his hands, he nipped gently at her lower lip before drawing it into his mouth. With his tongue he tasted, tested, teased repeatedly, until she finally opened her mouth in surrender, teaching him, with one kiss, the value of patience, showing him, in seconds, what his grandfather had been trying to tell him for years—that anything worth having was worth waiting for.

  Jake dragged his lips from hers to plant kisses on her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead, memorizing the feel of her skin, the subtleness of her scent as it whirled around him. He would take his time with her, he decided, and before the night was over he would know every inch of her body as well as he knew his own. Better.

  With a slowness designed to tease them both, he turned his attention back to her mouth. Tenderly, he explored the shape of her lips with his tongue before playfully tugging at the comers of her mouth with his teeth.

  Cori sighed against his mouth, frustrated by his gentle assault. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her body tingled with the warm sensations his lips were creating. She wanted more. Much more.