Keely’s breath caught when he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth.
He smiled against her cheek, figuring he’d won her over. “Am I proving myself?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Jarred by her response, he stilled. If he hadn’t persuaded her, then why was her voice unsteady? Why was her breath choppy?
“Because you’re not the type of man to take it slow or give me a play by play.”
“And you know me so well?” he murmured with a trace of humor.
“Well enough to know I prefer the zero to four second response time you have, whether it’s in anger or with lust. That’s honest. This calculated seduction is not.” Keely extracted herself from him and stood.
She reached for her beer. “Maybe it would be better if we just watched TV.”
Chapter Six
That sneaky bastard.
Keely turned, blocking Jack’s view as she pressed the bottle of beer to her lips and drained it.
Damn. Her entire body—blood, muscles, tissues, bones—felt as if he’d zapped her with a cattle prod.
Wobbly knees, dry throat, rapid heartbeat, damp panties, haywire responses from a simple touch? Damn embarrassing. Jack had stroked, whispered and teased until she was mere seconds from mounting him.
She’d enjoyed plenty of lovers. Men who’d rocked her world in bed. But she’d never experienced such a visceral reaction to a man’s heated touch and the soothing cadence of a deep voice drifting across her skin.
“Keely? You okay?”
She jumped. Damn him. She would not be a freakin’ wreck of hormones in her own space. “You want another beer?”
“You having one?”
I’m having two. “Yep.”
“Then I’ll take one. Since I bought them.”
Keely booked it to the kitchen. She took her time uncapping the beer bottles, stalling really. But she needn’t have bothered; Jack was yakking on his cell phone when she returned. She sat across from him, propped her booted feet on the coffee table and studied him.
Jack Donohue was a total contradiction. Polished, yet rugged. Confident, yet not overtly cocky.
Professional, yet an air of wildness surrounded him. Down to earth, as well as aloof. Smokin’ hot, yet ice cold.
Who was he?
Will the real Jack Donohue please stand up?
Although Jack wasn’t talking to her, she sensed his intense focus on her, totally on her. She couldn’t drop her guard around him for a single second. Screw the conditioning exercises. She’d never get accustomed to the way Jack made her feel.
“I shouldn’t have to handle it. Because it’s not in my job description, nor is it in my contract. Yes, I’m sure. And for the record, I was against hiring them in the first place. No. This is not an ‘I told you so’ moment, George. What am I supposed to do about it from here? You’re there, I’m not. Handle it. You’re the GC. No. Because I can’t right now.”
Jack stopped and stared at her.
It wasn’t a cool look. Oh no. The molten look in Jack’s eyes was hot enough to melt cinderblocks. He wanted her. Keely knew if she stayed in this room, he’d have her the second he ended the call. His way.
And she wouldn’t do a damn thing to stop him.
Keely listened to her inner voice advising retreat. Keeping their gazes locked, she saluted with the bottle and backtracked into her bedroom. She leaned against the door and locked it, trying to calm her racing heart.
But over the rapid lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub, she swore she heard the sound of Jack…clucking.
The next morning Keely was up and out of the apartment before Jack stopped snoring in the guest bedroom.
Once again she hadn’t beaten Dr. Joely Monroe into the office. The doc’s door was wide open and a regular old coffeepot—not some fancy-schmancy French-Chinese hybrid—was brimming with fresh, hot, strong coffee. Keely grabbed a cup and plopped across from the doc.
“Make yourself comfy.”
“I am, Doc. Thank you.”
Dr. Monroe’s eyes glommed onto Keely’s left hand. “Nice ring. New, isn’t it?”
Keely had been freelancing in the clinic as a physical and occupational therapist for more than two years. From the start Doc Monroe had encouraged Keely’s dream to own a physical therapy clinic. She’d offered advice and a recommendation to the Rural Medical Initiative about funding the venture. But Keely didn’t feel comfortable talking to the doctor about her personal life.
Sometimes Keely wondered why she kept her life compartmentalized; she told AJ about her love life, Ramona about her career issues, her brothers and parents the entertaining tidbits, but no one knew all sides of her. How refreshing would it be to just be herself with one person? How bizarre would it be if that person was…Jack?
“Yes, it’s brand spankin’ new.”
“I keep secrets for a living, McKay. We work together two, three days a week. You couldn’t have given me a hint you were seriously involved with someone?”
“Umm. He’s from out of town.”
“What’s his name?”
Satan. “Jack Donohue. In my own defense, it was sudden. And no, I’m not pregnant.”
“How’d you meet?”
“He’s Carter’s best friend, so I’ve known him forever. He’s also an architect specializing in restoration and his business is based out of Denver. He’s supervising my building remodel.”
“Mmm-hmm.” The doc blew across her coffee. “I suppose that’s why you’ve been gone so much?
Hooking up with him in Denver?”
“Partially. But the VA consultant fee is three times what you pay me. Can’t blame a girl for making a living.” She offered an impish smile.
“I don’t. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“With Jack or with the building?”
“Both. Now that you’ve begun the process of readying a space for a clinic, I’d hate to see you abandon your dream and move to the big city to be some hotshot architect’s wife.”
Keely scalded her tongue with coffee to keep from refuting the statement.
The doc asked, “Are Chet and Remy doing the remodel?”
“I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else.”
“Smart girl. Maybe I’ll swing by and check out the progress. I’ve been debating whether to remodel my kitchen.”
“You’re never home long enough to eat a meal, let alone cook one.”
Doc’s gaze fell to her coffee cup. “Maybe I’m seeking changes in my life too. I’m tired of all work and no play.”