“My shield?”
“As long as you’re in this little competition with me, it gives you an out to not see anyone else.”
She wiped her mouth daintily, relieved that for once he could be wrong about something. “Actually, Mr. Malone, I’d be single with or without this assignment.”
“Why’s that?”
“Sabbatical. No men for six months.”
He choked a little on his wine. “You mean no serious relationship, right? You don’t mean no men.”
“Are you trying to ask me if I’m going on a sex hiatus?”
“Hell yes, that’s what I’m trying to ask you. For the sake of the story, naturally.”
“Naturally,” she said, her smirk telling him she knew better. “But to answer your question, I have no intention of getting involved with a man in any way for six months.”
“You’re involved with me.”
“Um, no,” she said, treating herself to a chunk of bread that she dunked into his creamy pasta sauce. “I’m working with you. There’s a big difference. It’s not personal.”
“Is that why your pulse jumps every time I touch your wrist?”
“My pulse jumps because that’s a
nice move,” she said candidly. “I’m sure every woman’s pulse jumps when you do that.”
Jake looked a little stung. “That’s not a move. Believe it or not, that’s not something I do to every woman I meet.”
It’s not? “But you did it that night at the bar when you were twisting me around your finger like I was a stupid groupie.”
He ran a hand through his hair, the spontaneous gesture surprisingly appealing. “That night wasn’t entirely manufactured. Did I say a couple things that I knew you’d like? Sure. Because I can read women. Isn’t that the point of all this?”
Jake leaned forward then, his expression more serious than she’d seen it. “But here’s what I didn’t put in the article. That night wasn’t about reading women. It was about reading you. I liked what I saw. So yeah, I did what I could to make sure you’d like me back.”
His hand snagged hers hard before she could pull away, but the gesture gentled immediately as his thumb brushed over the inside of her wrist. “And this? This little jumpy flutter right here? This tells me I was successful. Then and now.”
Well, damn … why the hell had she sent Emma away with that video camera?
And the more important question—why was she so relieved that she had?
Chapter Nine
Jake couldn’t remember ever being mad at a woman. Annoyed, sure. A little exasperated, probably.
But there was a first time for everything, and he was most definitely angry with Grace Brighton.
“Is she expecting you?” a polite doorman asked an impatient Jake.
She should be, he thought darkly. Grace was too smart to think she could pull a stunt like that and not piss him off.
She’d known that he’d respond to that provocative text message about the dream with more than polite curiosity.
She’d known that he’d liked touching her. Had known that he wanted her, even though his first article hadn’t been entirely forthcoming about that.
And then the woman had gone and caught it all on freaking video.
Oh, and then she’d gone and put it on the Internet.