10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Jake

Clara was sitting in her car in my driveway. She had been for the past ten minutes. I'd been watching her for the same amount of time, amusement growing with each passing minute.

First, she'd fixed her hair and swiped on lipstick.

Then she'd put on a jacket and taken it right back off.

Now, it looked like she was either talking to herself or singing.

It was cute as hell, but I was ready for her to come inside. Opening the front door wide, the light from inside spilled out onto the dark driveway. Clara's head whipped in my direction, her mouth forming a startled O . I tipped my beer at her. Her lips clamped shut, and she turned away, rummaging around while I took a long pull.

Finally, she climbed out of her car, shrugging the strap of a compact leather purse over her shoulder.

"I was still deciding whether to come in or not," she announced as she walked up.

"Yeah, my patience is finite, and we both knew you were coming in." I stepped back from the doorway. "Get in here before I come out there and retrieve you myself."

Heels clicked on the stone steps leading to my front porch as she got closer and closer. As soon as I could, I reached out and snagged her hand, guiding her inside. By the time I closed and locked the door, she'd taken off her heels and set her purse on the entry table. Her hands were tucked in the back pockets of her jeans as she scanned the foyer, which opened into the vaulted living room.

"Wow, the wood beams are stunning," she said.

"The woodwork was what sold me. That and the location."

"You said outskirts, but you should have emphasized the ‘out' part." Her gaze finally landed on me. "Won't you show me the rest?"

"I'll show you some more." I walked up to her, placing my hand on the small of her back. "You'll have to let me lead, though."

A shiver ran through her, and I was gratified to feel it since she did a damn good job hiding it.

"I have no problem with that."

I took her around the well-used living room to the game room. She ran her fingers along the blue felt of my pool table.

"Do you use this a lot?"

I moved behind her, reaching around her to stroke the felt the same way she had. "Not as often as I should for how much I paid for it. You play?"

"Not since college." She spun, and her chest skimmed mine. "I think I remember the rules."

I smirked. "Maybe we can play a round or two after dinner."

Her shoulder lifted. "Maybe." Then she slid out from between me and the table to continue the tour.

In this case, I didn't mind walking behind her. Tonight, she'd left her conservative little dresses at home, trading them for dark, flared jeans and a silky black top that dipped low in the front. A long gold necklace disappeared into her exposed cleavage, tempting me to follow it.

Not the kind of outfit a woman wore when she wanted to draw lines with a man. This was an outfit meant to drag him over poorly constructed boundaries by his dick.

She twirled a handle on the foosball table and threw a magnetic dart at the board on her path through the room.

"This is a fun space," she remarked. "I'm surprised you have an entire room devoted to games."

"You don't think I'm fun?" I asked dryly.

The glance she shot me over her shoulder was coy as hell. "You told me more than once how much you don't like playing games."

"And yet I keep allowing you to play them with me."

She stopped walking and spun around to face me, her jaw dropping. "You're allowing me?"

Eating the space between us, I curved my arm around her waist and yanked her against me. She grabbed on to my shirt at my waist to steady herself but didn't let go once she had her balance.

"Let's face it, Clara, if I didn't like your style of doing things, I wouldn't have continued showing up at The Tavern, and I damn well wouldn't have texted you after the meeting at Rossi. Let me clarify for you, though. You teasing me is cute as hell. You running when we both know you're not going anywhere isn't . Let's cut that shit out now. You're here because you want to be, and I'm pleased you made that decision."

I dipped down and brushed my lips over hers. "Are you hungry? If you play sous-chef, dinner can be ready faster."

Only a brief hesitation before she nodded. "Yes. I'm hungry."

The corner of my mouth quirked. "You have to let go of my shirt if you want me to cook for you, sweetness. At least for a little while."

She looked down at her fisted hand. "Oh." Fingers unfurling, she dropped the fabric and stepped back. "I didn't even realize."

"I know you didn't." I pecked her again. "I like that. You grabbing on to me without thinking about it. It's sexy."

"You yanked me into you. I was keeping my balance, not trying to be sexy."

"Exactly. You don't have to try."

Her cheeks blazed brightly for me, and I wondered who had neglected this woman. Her reactions to compliments were too violent for her to be used to receiving them. If I'd been married to a woman like her, I would have never failed to remind her how valued she was. Then again, there was a reason she was divorced.

***

Clara knew her way around a kitchen. I didn't let her do a lot since she was my guest, but her confidence was obvious. She wielded a knife like an assassin, cutting vegetables like she was going to be graded on precision.

While I went in and out to tend to the grill, I caught her singing along to the tunes playing from my speakers, and when she didn't know I was looking, swaying her hips to the beat.

Slowly, the woman I'd met at The Tavern emerged from her icy shell, relaxing, muscle by muscle, right under my gaze. The full glass of wine had probably helped, but I liked to think I had something to do with it. She was getting comfortable with me again.

Maybe it was being in my space, letting her see something real about me. I liked her here, and that said something. I kept my privacy closely guarded, yet I hadn't hesitated in inviting Clara to my home. There hadn't been another woman here in years, but she looked good in my kitchen and at my pool table.

We ate our steaks and grilled vegetables out on the deck. With nothing but trees behind my house, it gave a vast sense of privacy.

"God, it's nice back here." Clara lifted her glass of wine and relaxed back in her cushioned chair.

"Yeah. I like it." I considered her. Where she might live. "You have a yard, right? Plenty of green space?"

"Nothing like this, but we have a nice fenced-in yard," she replied. "Nellie lives out there most of the year. My dad is going to buy her a swing set for her next birthday."

"She'll love that. Mama might find herself swinging back there too."

Clara huffed and swirled her wine. "If she wants me to, you know I will, but I was always more of a slide girl."

I could almost picture the two of them spending a sunny day on a playground. Nellie was a pipsqueak, but I could see her convincing Clara to swing with her. It probably wouldn't be too hard. In the little time I'd spent with them, it was patently clear Nellie was Clara's world. That was a good look on her, being a mother like that, with the kind of job she had. Pretty fucking impressive, actually.

"Where is she tonight? With your parents?"

"No." She shook her head. "They would have asked too many questions. Our live-in nanny, Marina, is home with her."

"What kind of questions would your parents have asked?"

She blew out a puff of air. "They'd want to know where I was going and with whom."

My brows popped. "Oh yeah? They're controlling like that?"

"No, not at all. They want me to start dating. If I told them I was going to have dinner with a man on a Friday night, they would get too excited, and I'd have to come up with a way of explaining why this isn't a date—"

"How would you have done that?"

She sipped her wine, watching me over the rim of the glass. "Thank god I don't have to come up with an answer. I can't think of anything that doesn't involve casual, anonymous sex. My father had a heart attack a few years ago. He can't take another shock."

I chuckled at that. "You did the whole marriage and baby thing. They're not satisfied?"

"Never." She placed her glass on the table. "Not until they have more grandchildren than their arms can hold. They'll have to look to my brother for that."

"No more kids for you?"

"No." She waved the question away. "Even if I began dating someone now—which is out of the question—by the time we got married and started trying for a baby, I'd be much too old. Nellie's it for me, and she's more than enough."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "You're going to date for ten years before you get married?"

She sputtered softly. "No. Where did that number come from?"

"I'm trying to figure out how you think you'd be too old to have kids sometime in the next couple years."

She arched a brow. "Is this you asking me how old I am?"

"Sure. You have me curious." I couldn't care less how old she was. I imagined she had a couple years on me, but that didn't make any sort of difference. Life was life. It came at you no matter your age.

"How old are you ?" she countered.

"Thirty," I replied. "You?"

She shielded her eyes and moaned like I'd told her something tragic. "Thirty? That's—"

"Old enough," I stated. "Old enough to own this house. Old enough to run a business. Old enough to take what I want. Old enough to fuck you to sleep. Is that what you were going to say?"

"No," she croaked. "It's young. I feel silly sitting here with you."

Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I lowered her hand, giving her no choice but to see me.

"The only thing silly here is you saying shit like that to me."

"I'm thirty-seven, Jake. We're from two different generations."

"We're not."

"I know," she muttered. "I feel old, though."

Releasing her wrist, I cupped the side of her neck. "Now see, that's your problem, and it has nothing to do with the year you were born. Last few years have been heavy on you?"

Sharp eyes met mine. "Have you been reading about me?"

"No. If you want to tell me about Nellie's dad and what split you up, you'll tell me. I can't say I haven't picked up on rumors and murmurings, but that's just from living in this city. People don't keep their mouths shut."

I grazed her throat with my thumb as she swallowed.

"No kidding."

I moved to stroking the unbearably soft skin under her chin. "You feel old because you went through a birth and divorce in the last few years. But sitting here, looking at you, I see life. I have seen you since the very first time I spotted you on your bike. Life and freedom. It's why I walked into The Tavern after you and took a seat beside you. Why I can't get you out of my head even when I need to."

Her lids lowered, thick lashes brushing her high cheekbones. "That's right. We do need to stop thinking about each other as anything other than a professional acquaintance."

I shook my head, and she slapped my knee. Her haughty look did it for me. I knew just how hot she was beneath that ice.

"It would be careless for me to get mixed up with you when Rossi is in discussions with Motor Zone."

I shrugged. "I guess you're careless since we're already mixed."

"Jake…you know what I mean. This is why I came here tonight, to talk about how to handle ourselves going forward."

She raised her chin, her professional face smoothing into place. The one that didn't pinken when I teased her. She looked gorgeous. And serious. I decided to go along with her so she felt satisfied in saying what she'd intended to with coming here.

"How do you picture this going, Clara?" I asked.

"Like I said, professional acquaintances. What happened between us in Skyridge will stay there. In Denver, we're potential colleagues, nothing more."

"What do you think will happen if it's more?"

Her exhale was heavy with frustration. "It won't be. Hypothetically, though, it would make negotiations awkward, and if the deal doesn't go through, we—"

"Is that a possibility?"

Jeremy would shit himself. MZ needed this. In a world where electric cars were slowly taking over, shifting our primary focus was vital to staying alive. Whether Rossi was the answer had yet to be seen, but Jeremy believed it was.

"This is what I mean. I can't talk about work with you or give you the inside track to our decision. You understand that, right?" She blinked a few times before her eyes met mine, imploring me to say yes, I understood.

"Sure. We've spent the last couple hours together without mentioning work and talked more than we ever have. I'm on board with leaving work at the door, but I don't agree with the need to stop seeing each other on occasion." I leaned forward into her space. "If that's what you want, though, after tonight, we'll go back to being strangers."

Saying that didn't feel right, but I wasn't going to argue for a place in her life when I had no intention of finding a place for her in mine. What we'd had in Skyridge was good. I'd been looking forward to more of it with her in town, but I wasn't a man to beg. If she wanted that too, she'd have to come get it.

Her shoulders rolled forward like she was disappointed I hadn't fought her. Only for a moment, though. Then she squared them, sitting up straighter.

"I'm glad we're in agreement."

For the time being, at least.

After we finished eating, Clara tried to help me with dishes, but I refused. "I'll get them later."

She twitched, and I laughed.

"That bugs you?"

"So much," she whispered.

"All right." I crossed my arms over my chest before I could do something stupid like swatting her ass for being cute. "Let's make a deal we can both live with. Guests in my home don't clean up."

She tried to protest, but I cut her off with a sharp shake of my head.

"My house, my rules, mama." I filled her empty wineglass to the top. "Take this to the game room. While you're in there getting the pool table warmed up and checking in with your nanny like I know you want to, I'll get the dishes. Deal?"

Her brow furrowed, and her bottom lip pushed out like she wanted to pout. After what looked like a bloody internal battle, she finally relented. "All right, Jake. It's a deal—so long as we continue staying professional."

"Mmm. Give me a few minutes and I'll be with you." I twisted toward the sink and flipped on the water, getting busy.

If Clara noticed I didn't agree with her, she didn't call me on it.

That was a good thing.

I never made promises I couldn't keep, and I didn't plan to start now.