Brenda Jackson - Private Arrangements

His stomach tightened when she finished it off by licking the fork. He again imagined all the things he’d like her to do with that tongue. And since he already knew how it tasted, he could feel sensations stirring in his gut.

Knowing he had to stop thinking such racy thoughts, he cleared his throat. “So, now that you know what the project will entail, do you have an answer for me now or do you need to sleep on it?” And how about sleeping with me in the process? He had to tighten his lips to keep from adding such a suggestion.

Before she could respond, the waiter came again to remove the last of their dishes and to leave him with the check.

It was then that she said, “Thanks for your consideration of me for the job, and I appreciate the offer. But I won’t be able to take it, Jonas.”

He blinked. Had he heard her right? Had she just turned him down? Shocked, he fought to keep the frown off his face. No woman had ever turned him down for anything. Business or pleasure.

There was a long pause and he knew she was waiting for him to say something, so he did. “Uh, all right. Would you like to order another cup of coffee?”

Hell, what else was he going to say? Tell her that it wasn’t all right?

“No, I’ll pass on the coffee. One cup was plenty for me. And thanks for being understanding about me not taking the job,” she said.

Was he being understanding? He doubted it but decided to let her think whatever she wanted. Shouldn’t he at least ask her why she had refused his offer? He quickly figured it wouldn’t matter. There was nothing left for him to do but to move to the number-two person on the list, George Keller. George was a good photographer but could get on his last nerve at times. The thought of spending two weeks with the man had his teeth grinding.

“Well, thanks for dinner. I need to leave now.”

And now on top of everything else, she was running out on him. Automatically, he stood as well. “You’re welcome. If not this time, then maybe we can work together again on another project in the future.”

She shrugged. “Possibly.”

Possibly? Was she for real? Just what was with this possibly crap? His lips curved into a forced smile. “I’m glad you’re willing to keep your options open,” he said, trying to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

At that moment she moved around the table getting ready to leave, and he felt a sucker punch deep in his gut. Nikki Cartwright was wearing something other than jeans. She had on a very short dress that showed all of her curves and legs he was seeing for the very first time. Long, gorgeous legs.

His gaze ran up and down her body and his breath caught in his throat when he realized that she was the same woman whose legs he’d seen in the parking lot earlier. Damn. Holy, hot damn.

Before he could stop himself, he looked up, met her gaze and said in an incredulous voice, “You’re wearing a dress.”

There was something about the look in Jonas’s eyes that gave Nikki pause. Was that heated lust in the dark depths staring at her like she was a slice of strawberry cheesecake with a scoop of French vanilla ice cream on top? He had never looked at her like this before. Not even after the time they’d kissed. She was more than certain that she would have remembered if he had.

She was definitely confused. Did seeing her in a dress finally make him aware that she was a woman in a way that kiss hadn’t? She would have worn a dress around him a long time ago if she’d known it would grab this much attention.

She drew in a deep breath, feeling sexy and seductive for the first time in years. “Yes, I usually wear jeans or slacks because they’re more comfortable for the work I do. But I decided to wear a dress tonight since I’m going to spend some time upstairs.”

He lifted his brow. “Upstairs?”

“Yes, at Mavericks. Tonight is jazz night.”

Jonas nodded. Mavericks was an upscale nightclub on the thirty-fifth floor that had a rooftop bar and a wraparound terrace that provided a panoramic view of the mountains and Phoenix’s skyline.

He stared at her and her outfit for a moment, wondering if perhaps she had a date. Of course if she did it was none of his business. But still, for some reason, he wanted to know.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t detain you unnecessarily. I wouldn’t want you to be late for your date,” he heard himself saying.

She smiled. “I don’t have a date. I like jazz and thought I’d spend my evening doing something other than watching television.”

He lifted a brow. “You aren’t meeting anyone?”

She frowned. “No. I don’t need someone to take me out if I want to enjoy good music.”

He was well aware of that. However, a woman who was alone and looked like her would be inviting male attention whether she wanted it or not. There was no way he wouldn’t hit on her if he saw her sitting alone. Men made plays for attractive women with only one thing in mind. It was the way of life. He of all people should know.

Imagining her sitting alone in a club while listening to jazz didn’t sit well with him. He met her gaze. “I don’t have anything else to do tonight and I love jazz as well. Mind if I join you?”

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