Ann Christopher - Case for Seduction

“I’m always working,” he said.

Wow. That reeked of dissatisfaction, didn’t it?

She’d noticed. Her gaze sharpened with interest. “So are you a workaholic because you enjoy it or because you can’t see any other way?”

Another tough question. “I have no idea.”

She smiled, and her extraordinary eyes were full of understanding. “You should probably work on that, shouldn’t you?”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Hypocrisy is my middle name.”

That got him. He grinned. She grinned back. The moment lengthened into an interlude so delicious it was almost unbearable.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He thought about how his day started in the usual manner―yawn worthy―and how exciting she’d made it when he least expected it. He thought about how interesting and beautiful she was, and how she’d already made him smile more this morning than he had in the past week or so, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

She intrigued him more than any woman he’d met in a long time.

A long time.

What if he hadn’t literally stumbled on to her here in Starbucks?

What if his attraction was one-sided?

He didn’t think so, though. Her eyes were too bright and her color too high.

And he’d been around long enough to know when a woman responded to him.

She turned away first, running an unsteady hand through her hair. “Well...”

He cleared his throat, which felt tight with a sudden longing that was all out of proportion with the occasion. Sharing coffee and a breakfast treat with a complete stranger shouldn’t tie him up in knots, he knew, no matter how sexy she was.

Tell that to his raging hormones.

“Well,” he said.

With her head bent low, she flipped a couple pages forward in her book, and then flipped back again. Ultimately, she pushed away the book and pulled the laptop closer, tapping a couple keys. He had the idea she was as flustered as he was, which made him feel a whole lot better, because he was a sudden mass of nerves, desire and uncertainty.

“I should get back to studying.” She tipped up her face just enough for him to see deepening frown lines between her brows. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it.”

Ah, man. Was he a jerk, or what? He rolled his shoulders, trying to release some of his spiking tension. “Sorry. I’m saying that to you a lot, aren’t I?”

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “It was fun talking to you. But the being-knocked-on-my-butt part? Not so fun.”

He snorted out a laugh.

“But I liked the scone. Thanks for introducing me to something new.”

He slid back his chair with a loud scrape that echoed his frustration. “I’ll just...go on back to my own table and leave you in peace.”

“Give a yell if you get lost.”

The teasing undid him. He wanted more of it. More of her.

The words came out in a rush. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

Her head came up, and she hit him with that intense gaze and eyes that were round and shocked. “Excuse me?”

His hopes crashed and burned via a sickening swoop in his belly. “I knew it. You’re with someone, aren’t you?”

“What? No, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Do you?”

“Dinner is always a good idea. You have food, maybe some wine, you get nourishment—it’s great.”

“Don’t you think both our lives are complicated enough without rocking the boat?”

“I thrive on complications.”

“I don’t, though,” she said flatly. “I thrive on smooth sailing.”

Jake took a minute to regroup, thinking hard. He’d asked her out, she’d said no, end of story. He wasn’t in the habit of begging women to be with him, and his pride wouldn’t let him start now. She wasn’t the only woman in Philly, and if she wasn’t interested in him, well, then screw her. Her loss.

So why did he feel like the biggest loser? Why did he have the uncomfortable certainty that something special was slipping through his fingers?

He stared at her, trying to manage his disappointment. “How can I change your mind? I’m just talking dinner here. You have my permission to walk out on me if you’re not having fun. You can duck into the ladies’ room and never come back.”

For a minute, she wavered, dimpling, and he thought he had her.

But then her expression hardened and she shook her head. “I’m not going out with you. You shouldn’t even be asking me.” She gave him a little wave. “Buh-bye.”

Shouldn’t even be asking?

Okay. Why was he getting the feeling he was missing something?

“Why shouldn’t I be ask—”

“Wow,” said a new voice. A mocking female voice, to be exact. “Some things never change, do they? I should have known.”

Hang on. He knew that voice. Jake looked up and— Aah, shit.

Speaking of unneeded complications.

“Avery.” He kept his expression cool. “What’re you doing here?”

Avery, a pretty brunette he’d met at the gym and with whom he’d shared a couple—no, three—memorable interludes at her place, loomed over the table. Apparently she’d also just come from working out, because she had a duffel slung over her shoulder and was wearing shorts and a sports top.

She looked pissed. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips were thin and one manicured hand was firmly planted on a hip. The killing glare she leveled on him warned that she’d be overturning tables and kicking asses in a minute.

His gorgeous companion, meanwhile, had a single brow raised and was watching for his reaction.

“I stopped in for some juice,” Avery said. “But while I’m here, maybe you could explain why you haven’t been returning my texts. Is she the reason? What am I saying? Of course she is.”

A couple nearby heads swiveled in their direction, probably because Avery’s volume was on the increase. As always, when someone was upset, he kept his tone low and reasonable.

“Avery, I told you I wouldn’t be seeing you anymore,” he reminded her.

“No, jackass. What you said was that you were busy at work and would call me in a few days. That was three weeks ago.”

His conscience squirmed guiltily. That did sound like something he’d say.

He opened his mouth with no real idea of how he could smooth things over.

Avery saved him the trouble by dumping her cup of juice in his lap.

Iced juice.

Yelping, he leaped to his feet, dimly aware of the gasps and snickers all around him. Ashley the barista, in particular, gave a loud snort, which he did not appreciate.

Ah, but Avery wasn’t done with him yet.

“Great glasses,” Avery said to Gorgeous. “Dolce & Gabbana?”

Gorgeous, looking startled, touched her frames. “Uh, yes. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Avery hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and gave the woman a rueful smile. “Let me give you a piece of advice, girlfriend. This one?” She jabbed a finger in Jake’s direction; he winced. “He’s good for about three orgasms for about three nights.”

“Avery,” he growled.

“So enjoy it while it lasts,” Avery continued. “But don’t get your feelings involved. Okay? Gotta go, people. Bye.”

Avery wheeled around and swept through the glass door—thank the Good Lord—but the damage was done. Not that he’d been on firm footing with Gorgeous anyway.

Looking grim, she was gathering up her books and laptop and cramming them back into her bag with jerky movements. “I’m leaving, too.”

Fully aware of how ridiculous he looked with the juice stain down his crotch, he tried to do some major damage control. If she walked out of here now, he was certain both that he’d never see her again and that her memory would haunt him for a good long time.