Jaimie: Fire and Ice (The Wilde Sisters 2)

They’d both laughed—except, there was a nugget of truth to what Lissa had said.

She did want bells to ring.

So far, they hadn’t.

Except for that night with Zacharias Castelianos, which was ridiculous because he was nothing she’d ever wanted. He was the all-brawn-no-brains type.

Wasn’t he?

She thought about how he’d taken care of her. Made her laugh and forget her fears…

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she said aloud, “it was sex. S-E-X, and why can’t you admit it? It was sex and it was good.”

Good? Amazing, was closer to the truth, and wasn’t that the problem? That it had been mind-blowing sex and she couldn’t accept that she’d done something so—so basic, so raw, so far out of the realm of reality that when she’d awakened in the early hours of the morning with light just creeping into the sky and the sound of electrical appliances coming to life, she’d been horrified.

There she was. In a stranger’s bed. Both of them naked. His arm draped possessively around her, his hand cupping her breast. Oh my God, she’d thought, oh my God!

And then he’d stirred, just a little, and his hand had curved more closely around her breast, and she’d felt her body quicken, felt the ache of wanting him, and she’d almost turned in his arms, touched his hard, gorgeous face, his hard, gorgeous body until he woke and whispered her name and took her again and again and again…

“Dammit!”

She wrenched the wheel, pulled to the shoulder of the road in a burst of dirt and gravel.

Pathetic. That she should still be thinking about something that had happened weeks ago…

That even though he had her business card, he had never called her or sent her flowers or done anything to make what had happened more than a down-and-dirty one night stand.

Why waste time on the past when the present was what mattered? The excellent progress she was making at work, especially after she’d come back from New York without the Castelianos deal. Her boss hadn’t been happy, but he’d said he was sure she’d do better the next time there was a hot client to land. She’d learn, he’d said, and she had. Just look at those three new listings.

If she had any problem at all, it was Steven.

He had changed since she’d returned from New York. His attention had gone from over-the-top to certifiably impossible. He was always, always there, lurking, waiting, fall

ing in step beside her as she walked down the street, turning up everywhere she was. At her office. At her apartment.

I was in the neighborhood, he’d say, and I figured you’d like a fresh croissant from that little bakery. Or he’d be at the door with the Sunday papers. A book. A box of chocolates.

She’d gone from being polite—Thank you, but no—to being direct—I don’t want you to bring me things, Steven­—to being downright rude—Steven. I want you to stay out of my life. I’m not interested. You have to accept that.

Things had come to a head two days ago.

She was studying for her broker’s license; she’d had a class that night and when it was over, her car wouldn’t start. A guy from class, his car right beside hers in the parking lot, saw what was happening and offered her a lift home.

He was a pleasant man and, it turned out, a new dad. He’d spent the twenty minutes of the trip telling her all about his six-week-old son. Jaimie thanked him when they got to her place—she had an apartment in a townhouse just on the edge of Georgetown. She’d opened the outside door, gone inside…

And cried out when a figure materialized from the shadows in the hall.

“Steven?”

“Who is he?”

Steven’s voice had been low. Coarse. Frightening. Everything about him had been frightening. Jaimie had never realized he was so tall, six one at least, and he’d towered over her, loomed over her, stepped closer and closer so that she’d kept backing away until, finally, her shoulders were pressed against the wall.

“Steven. I want you to leave.”

“Is he your newest lover?”

“Steven.” Her heart had been racing; she’d fought to sound calm because instinct told her letting him see how scared she was would be a mistake. “You need to go home.”