Conquer Your Love

Oh.

God.

Oh god. He was stunning.

No. He was sinfully perfect, from his dark hair to the way his mouth twitched at the corners whenever he was about to smile.

Tiny butterflies came to life in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to hate him so much, to be done with him once and for all, because in some way he was like a drug—the more I tasted him, the more I became addicted. But the way he smiled at me, and the way he cocked his head to the side, expecting my reaction upon seeing him, reminded me that I was human. Weak. Prone to making mistakes. And I could only hope I wasn’t about to make yet another one. Because in the end—no matter how much I liked him or he liked me—he was still Jett Mayfield. The man who played dirty. The man who played me.

My knees weakened and my mouth turned dry as he moved toward me—so confident in his stride—until he was close enough to touch me. I inhaled the earthy scent of his aftershave and let it slowly engulf my mind.

A sexy smile played on his lips. His green eyes looked alluring in the sunlight. The beginning of a stubble shadowed his tan skin, making me want to run my fingers over it. I turned away from him and toward the clear blue lake because it was easier than looking at him. There was still so much pain inside stemming from his actions and the realization that if he hadn’t lied, if he hadn’t tried to trick me, we might still be together. There might still be an us.

“Brooke.” His voice was deep and strained. Guarded. Ignoring my disturbing attraction to him, I leaned over the balustrade as far as I could and took a deep breath as I tried to control the turmoil inside me. I might not be able to shake it all off, but I wasn’t going to show him just how big a soft spot I still had for him either.

“I’m glad you could come. I thought this would be the ideal place to meet and talk.” He touched the small of my back, oblivious to the storm raging inside me, reminding me how gentle he was. How amazing we once were together.

“I didn’t expect this.” I turned to face him and our gazes interlocked, making my knees go weak.

“You said you wanted a public place. I believe the exact words were ‘outside, where anyone can see us.” He leaned against the railing and shot me an amused look that brought with it the most gorgeous dimples. Dimples that made you wish you would drown in them.

I crossed my arms over my chest, as if the action could put some distance between us.

“Yeah, but I meant having other people around, Jett. Lots of people. Think fast-food chain.” Being seen wasn’t much of a put-off to him. He had made that pretty clear on the lakeshore.

“What’s wrong with the people present?” He nodded at the waiter, amused.

I heaved a sigh in mock exasperation. Whatever I said, my arguments were lost. I had given in to his request to talk and was ready to listen. But I could already tell coming here was a mistake. The place was too beautiful; too perfect. Away from the distractions of a club or the people employed in his office, any ounce of determination to fight the stupid attraction between us dissipated into thin air.

“You wanted to see me, so let’s get to the point,” I said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Let’s have lunch first.” His tone left no room for discussion. “We’ll talk later.”

“Fine.” Hungry as I was I didn’t argue with that, even though I doubted I’d be able to swallow more than a few bites in his presence. Jett guided me to my chair and held it for me. I slid into the seat, whispering a thank you. He sat down opposite from me and then we were gazing at each other again, soaking in each other’s presence over the small table—the way we had ever since our fateful meeting in a club, which wasn’t quite as accidental as I initially thought.

“What can I get you to drink?” the waiter asked, startling me.

“Champagne,” Jett said.

“For me water, please.”

Jett raised a puzzled brow, but didn’t comment.

“Why champagne?” I asked him as soon as the waiter had left to get our order. ”Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“We both know I don’t take advantage of a drunken woman, even though I’ve got to admit it’s nice to hear all the little things that come out of your sexy mouth. You know, the things I don’t get to hear when you’re sober.”

The telltale heat of a blush rushed to my face. Jett had seen me drunk at least twice. Every time he made sure I got home safely, and every time I told him, in my drunken state, how much I wanted him. It seemed like my subconscious was programmed to reveal the truth regarding how I felt about him—whether I wanted it, or not.

“I have sworn off alcohol.” I watched him take a thin bread stick and break it into two, then hand me one while he kept the other half. “Thanks,” I mumbled, nibbling on one end. “It makes me say stupid things I don’t mean.”

He snorted as he took a bite. “I doubt that.”

For some reason, his statement annoyed me. Probably, because he was right. Yet, it brought up an issue that had me occupied for longer than I cared to admit.

“Why did you lie to me, Jett?”

He hesitated, avoiding my gaze. A moment later the waiter appeared with a trolley carrying our drinks and various dishes. He set the drinks in front of us and wished us “Buon appetite,” and then he was gone again.

“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered everything on the menu,” Jett said, not answering my question. I tried to ignore the various delicacies on the trolley, which was hard because everything—including Jett—looked so delicious. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

I watched him pile a little of everything onto a plate before handing it to me. I took it from him but didn’t touch the food.

He noticed me watching him and sighed. I began to tap my foot impatiently, asking the obvious question with a mere raise of my eyebrows.

“I know you want answers but can we eat first?” He pointed at my plate. I eyed the food as I contemplated whether to give in to his plea, or remain stubborn in my decision to get this over and done with.

“Please. I’ll explain later,” Jett said slowly, his electrifying eyes piercing a hole into my soul.

There was something in his voice: hope that we wouldn’t end up fighting. Hope to avoid the inevitable—the countless questions demanding honest answers. Whatever those answers were, I had a nagging feeling I’d need a strong stomach to deal with them, so I grabbed my fork and popped a cube of white cheese into my mouth, chewing slowly. It tasted delicious, of fresh milk and herbs. I took another one, followed by what looked like a meatball tasting of peppers and olives.

I looked up when he lifted his fork and helped himself—from the same plate. The gesture was so intimate it made my heart skip a beat.

Too intimate.

It wasn’t what two strangers did.

“You’re damn sexy when you eat,” Jett whispered. “I’m glad you’re not one of those anorexic girls on a diet.”

I almost choked on my bite but continued to eat as if we were having a business conversation. “I don’t believe in diets.”

He smiled. “It’s not just your attitude I like. I love the way you get lost in every new sensation. You show the same passion when you’re under me.”

Good gracious.

Red flags began to flash somewhere in the back of my mind. He was beginning to flirt with me, piling on the sexy compliments, which—given Jett and our history—wasn’t a good sign.

Before I could stop him, he leaned forward and brushed his thumb over my lips and then sucked the tip of it into his mouth. I took a sharp breath and forced myself to let it out slowly.

In his absence, I had prepared all those kickass comebacks that would kick his ego to the curb. In my head I knew what I wanted to say and how to infuse just the right amount of sarcasm into it. Sitting in front of him, an arrogant, self-assured smile reflected in his eyes, my wit sort of dried up, and I found myself staring like an idiot, fighting for words while my brain remained surprisingly blank and my insides turned all mushy.

Dammit, I couldn’t think of anything to say. Worse yet, I could barely breathe because of the delicious pull between my legs. My panties were beginning to melt just from watching him do normal stuff, reminding me of all the pleasure he and his fingers had once bestowed upon me. The awareness came to me that I could sleep with him anytime. Pull him to me, yank his shirt open, run my fingers down his chest to the happy trail I had once been more than eager to explore.

His sexy smile widened. As if he knew what I was thinking.

Damn him and his gorgeous body!

Damn him and his flirting!

Thankfully, our waiter arrived to ask whether we needed anything else. For a moment I seriously considered asking the waiter to stay during the rest of our lunch. Figuring that might be a little too awkward, I resisted the urge and watched the waiter leave again.

I was a grown woman, for crying out loud. I didn’t need to hide behind anyone’s back because I couldn’t deal with a hot guy. Or maybe I could.

Play it cool and play it cold, Stewart!

“Jett, I want you to forget what happened between us,” I started, my tone infused with as much frostiness as I could muster. “It’s over. We can’t go back to how things used to be.”

Jett’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s never over. Not until every fight has been lost. And for you, I’d fight.”

“There’s nothing to fight for. You’re not getting the estate.”

“I already told you it’s not about the estate, Brooke. This is about us. About your safety.” His voice came low and dark. Like a menacing warning that he wasn’t going to give up.

“I don’t need your protection. He’s just an old man. What can he do to me?”

Hesitating, Jett put down his fork and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain. I want to understand.”

He took a sip of my drink before putting the glass down slowly, leaving his untouched. Hiding my annoyance at the intimate gesture, I wondered whether he was trying to make a point by helping himself, like wanting to say that what belonged to me belonged to him. Seriously, could he turn more caveman-like on me? My blood began to boil in my veins. It started to boil harder when he touched my hand. His fingers began to trace circles on the back of my hand, slowly but with just the right amount of pressure—the way he used to do when we were still together.

How the heck can you explain to a guy that it’s over when you’re having a hard time convincing yourself? Why is telling others what they have to do always simpler than applying your own advice in practice?

“Tell me what’s going on. I want to understand,” I said, pulling my hand away from him. “That’s the only reason I’m here. Why do you think I’m in danger?”

I leaned back in my chair, regarding him coolly. The more I thought about this, the more his assumptions seemed ludicrous. Scary, yes, because Jett was persuasive. But still absurd.

“Like I said, Alessandro’s just an old man. What do you think he could possibly do to me from a hospital bed where he’s dying, Jett?”