He was still Jake the rake.
Still her boss.
Letting him know he’d won first prize on the sexual front might mess up things even worse than they’d already been messed up. Amy didn’t know how to deal with this situation. Another bridge had been burnt and the future was now a lot murkier than it had been before. She pushed herself down to the other end of the bath and tried to get her mind into gear. Some straight thinking might help.
Jake raised his eyebrows at her in teasing inquiry while his eyes danced with the wicked knowledge that she couldn’t ignore what they’d just shared.
Then she remembered the heart-sickening frequency of his sharing with other women. What if he told all of them he’d never had it so good? A charming ego-stroke to top everything off? And just in case he forgot their names in the heat of the moment...
“Don’t call me sweetheart!”
The words shot out of her mouth with such vehemence, both of them were startled by their passionate protest. Amy was shaken by how violently she recoiled from having joined an easily forgotten queue, and Jake’s good humour instantly lost its sparkle, his eyes narrowing, focusing intensely on her. His sudden stillness suggested he was harnessing all his energy to the task of perceiving the problem.
“I don’t use that endearment loosely, Amy,” he said quietly. “You are sweet to my heart. But if you don’t like it...”
“I have a name. I’m not one of your passing parade, Jake. I’m your P.A.,” she cried. “Just because I’ve committed the ultimate folly of going to bed with my boss, doesn’t turn me into a no-name woman.”
“You? Amy Taylor a no-name woman?” He threw back his head and laughed. “Never in a million years!” A golden star-burst of twinkles lit his eyes. “And you know we didn’t go to bed, Amy. You specifically said you weren’t going to bed with me and I respected that decision.”
Her insides were mush, churning with a million uncertainties, yet being hopelessly tugged by the sheer attraction of the man. Was she sweet to his heart? All she really knew was they’d done it, bed or no bed, and she was in a state of helpless confusion over what it meant or might mean to either of them.
Before she could think of any reply to him, he shook his head at her and offered a wry little smile as he made the pertinent comment, “Neither of us can blame ourselves for spontaneous combustion.”
This implied he hadn’t planned what happened, any more than she had. An accident of Fate? Or a convenient excuse?
“Was it?” she asked suspiciously.
“What?”
“Spontaneous combustion.”
“It felt like that to me.” His brow puckered for a thoughtful moment. “I remember I was swinging in with all the support I could think of for your out-of-my-life act, socking it home to your ex, then...yes, I’d definitely have to call it spontaneous combustion. Mind you, the chemistry was always there. No denying it.”
Amy had to accept the undeniable truth that she’d played with fire, tempted the devil, and the ensuing conflagration could not be entirely laid at Jake’s door. She sighed, letting go the craven wish to dissolve in the bath. There was no escaping what had to be faced.
“So what do we do now?” she asked, looking for some signal from him.
He grinned at her. “I suggest we have dinner. Both of us need re-fuelling.”
Pragmatic Jake. One appetite burnt out...might as well get on with feeding another.
Which could then re-ignite the first and... Amy clamped down on that thought. She had to get sex with Jake off her brain. More practical matters needed to be settled.
“Okay,” she agreed. “You dry yourself off first and I’ll follow.”
He eyed her quizzically. “You’re not going shy on me, are you, Amy?”
It triggered a nervous laugh. “A bit late for that. I just want the bathroom to myself while I tidy up.”
In truth, Amy didn’t want to risk tangling physically with Jake, with or without towels. She needed some clear space here to tidy up her responses to him.
“Fair enough,” he said and whooshed out of the bath, the massive displacement of water almost causing a tidal wave.
He was a big man. Stark naked, there was a lot of him, all of it impressive. Amy couldn’t help staring. In every male sense he was well proportioned, well muscled and most decisively well endowed. Very well indeed. Her vaginal muscles went into spasms of excitement just looking at him, remembering how he’d felt and what he’d done.
It was just as well she was still lying in the bath. Jake didn’t even have to apply the art of temptation in the nude. He was it. He turned to reach for a towel and his backside scored a perfect ten beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Amy was struck by a powerful insight. Lust was not a male prerogative. Lust could hit a woman like a runaway train. She was left wondering how on earth it could be stopped.
A more urgent question was... did she want it to be stopped?
CHAPTER TWELVE
DINNER was good. Jake didn’t press anything but food on her. He played the charming host, ready to serve her every whim, encouraging her to try everything he’d brought, pleased when she did, obviously resolved on giving her a breathing space and setting a relaxed mood.
Amy appreciated it. She appreciated the food, too. It seemed to stabilise her stomach and clear her head. Her confusion over the sexual element that had scrambled their relationship, gradually sorted itself out into various straight avenues of thought.
Of course, it helped that Jake was fully clothed again. And she felt...safer, protected...in the jeans and T-shirt she’d planned to wear before Steve’s fateful intrusion. Probably her choice of clothes had alerted Jake to her nervous tension and reservations about any further intimate involvement. He was never slow on picking up signals.
Nevertheless, there could be no avoiding a discussion on where they went from here. As they cleared the dishes from the table, transferring them to the kitchen counter, Amy decided it couldn’t be postponed any longer. She could only hope Jake would understand her position.
“Coffee on the balcony?” he suggested.
Her gaze zapped to the armchairs and coffee table he must have put outside while she’d been in the shower prior to Steve’s arrival. “You thought of that before,” she blurted out, flushing with embarrassment as she recollected precisely when she’d noticed their removal to the balcony.
He shrugged. “It seemed a pleasant way to finish off the evening.”