the fabric of his shirt she could feel it. His hands moved down her back to her waist and drew her in until they were pressed together.
She didn’t want them to fit together the way they did. As if they were meant to hold each other this way. His kiss continued to inflame her senses. She loved the way his fingers felt at the back of her neck as they tangled in her hair.
He lifted his head and sighed. She opened her eyes to look up at him and was surprised by the look on his face. There was desire, of course, but something else. He framed her face with his hands and whispered her name before he kissed her again.
This embrace lacked the restraint of the first time. She couldn’t think as passion swept over her. She went up on tiptoe so she could take more of his kiss. She wanted something more from him.
He caressed her neck and shoulders and then slid his hands down her back to cup her butt, pulling her tightly against him. She gasped at the feel of his erection pressing into her stomach and moisture pooled in her center. She had known she wanted him but this was different. This was white-hot desire and she was desperate to touch more of him.
To have more of him … more of Jack. She slid her hands under his shirt and up his back. His hands tightened on her as his tongue plunged deeper into her mouth. He shifted until he leaned back against the wall and she was supported fully by his weight.
He lifted his head, and she felt cold without his mouth pressed against hers.
“One kiss … I thought it would be enough, but I want more,” he said.
She did, too, but this was Jack. And now that his mouth wasn’t on hers … she pushed away from him and he let her go, his hands trailing over her hips until they fell to his sides.
“That got out of hand,” she said.
“I don’t think so, but I guess you’re not ready for anything more,” he said.
She sensed the frustration behind his words and she felt it, too, but she wasn’t going to rush things with Jack. She still didn’t know how she felt about him, and instead of making matters clearer, this night had only served to muddle them.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t rush into this. I thought you were a shallow me, me, me, guy when I came here tonight,” she admitted.
“And now?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Revenge was something that she’d craved and giving it up just wasn’t an option, but now she understood the saying about it being a dish best served cold. Because this heat between them melted her resolve.
“That’s why I need some time to think about this,” she said.
He nodded. “Fair enough. You’ll have plenty of time to mull things over because I leave for L.A. after we finish shooting in the morning. I won’t be back in New York for a week.”
She felt a sense of loss at the thought of him leaving and she knew that she had to get her head straight. It was a good thing he was going away because right now she’d have to say she was still stupid where he was concerned. But she’d miss him. And she hadn’t expected to.
“Will you have dinner with me again next Saturday?” he asked. “Not here, but on a proper date where I pick you up and take you out.”
“Yes,” she said and her voice did that squeaky thing again. She shook her head. “Hopefully I’ll be able to speak when you see me next week.”
“I like you just the way you are, Willow.”
She wished she could believe that was true, but he didn’t know her. He hadn’t back in high school and he didn’t now. On the set she treated him the way she did all talent—with a certain indulgence coupled with disdain. But he was talking about liking her. How could he? She wasn’t even sure she liked herself.
“Ah, you’re just saying that … aren’t you?” There was a hint of something fragile in her voice.
Jack felt as if Willow was still running away from him, and he knew no matter what gestures he made to bring her closer, he was treading on thin ice. He could literally navigate his way on thin ice—he’d been to the South Pole with explorer and entrepreneur Jefferson Haldon eighteen months ago—but this was different.
And personal relationships had always been harder for him. Give him a physical obstacle and tell him it was impossible and he’d find a way to conquer it. But give him a woman and tell him that she was impossible and he was stymied. It was frustrating to think he’d come such a long way from Frisco, Texas, and still hadn’t figured women out.
This woman. Frankly, she was the only one he really wanted to unravel and strip bare. But every time he thought he had a handle on her she did something unexpected … like the squeaky voice thing. What did it mean?
Why was this making her vulnerable? He was the one putting himself on the line … or was he the only one?
“Willow, I’m being honest. There is something about you that intrigues me. Even when you’re giving me the cold shoulder.”
“I’d put that down to ego,” she said.
“Me, too,” he admitted. “I’m not used to being ignored.”
“Then you don’t know for sure that you like me,” she said.
He crossed his arms over his chest, wondering if honesty was the key to this woman. Honesty was tricky because the truth wasn’t always as nice and pretty as people wanted it to be. “Want to know a secret?”
“Sure,” she said.
But there was a guarded look in her eyes, as if she was expecting him to say something … hurtful? He couldn’t read it. Never had been able to. The flashes he had of her from high school were just those big eyes of hers and that guarded expression on her face.
“I’m not sure if I like myself.”
Dammit, where had those words come from? He had meant to feed her some line about how she couldn’t expect him to like her if she kept him from truly knowing her. What he couldn’t tell her is that he’d lost the ability to care about anything but a challenge a long time ago.
“I didn’t expect you to be that honest,” she said. “What’s not to like about you? You’re charming—”
“I didn’t think you’d noticed,” he said, flashing her a calculated grin because he needed to get them back on familiar footing instead of staying here where he felt so damned vulnerable.
“It’s hard not to when you are wooing everyone in sight.”
“That’s my job. I can’t be successful if no one wants to talk to me. I’m the host.”
“You’re right about that,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “So it’s just for show?”
He shrugged. “I genuinely like talking to people and hearing their stories. They fascinate me.”
That hadn’t always been the case. There had been a time in his life when he’d been so focused on himself he didn’t know others even existed. But his accident and hitting rock bottom had changed that. He’d needed people and had been amazed at how many had reached out to help him.
“Me, too. As long as they are moving toward helping me finish whatever I’m working on,” Willow said. She was driven, and he could respect that.
“Is work all you ever think about?” he asked. She had always struck him as a workaholic. Then again, he only saw her in the context of the set, so he thought he might have it wrong. Now he wasn’t so sure.
She shook her head, but then grimaced. “It is. Even when I’m out with my friends I’m always thinking of my next project. But you know how it is in our business. If you take a break for a second someone will pass you by and that’s it. No one remembers your name.”
“You