I laughed. Was he serious? I wanted to point out that all of the things he mentioned were risky, but I decided to dive into that later. “What other stuff?” I asked instead.
He leaned so close I could see the tiny lines beneath his eyes and feel the delicious warmth of his breath. His piercing gaze met mine. “For some time I had the crazy idea to work undercover.” I raised my brows in confusion and his grin widened. “You know…head hunt people. I took martial arts classes, trained in all the James Bond stuff you see on TV. I joined a gang. It was my way to handle anger.” He waved his hand like it didn’t matter. I almost choked on my breath.
“Wait a sec. Rewind a bit. Did you say ‘gang’?”
He grimaced. “Sort of. Though not the drug dealing type you probably have in mind. Everyone said I had problems with authority, which I guess was true. I didn’t listen to anyone. Not my father, not my teachers. No one.”
“And by head hunting I assume you’re not talking about sifting through prospective candidates to fill a job opening.”
He shook his head, still grinning.
“Wow.” I stared at him, open-mouthed. It was difficult to imagine Jett—the refined CEO of one of the largest and most successful real estate companies in the world—doing something dangerous, and yet I was inclined to believe him. He had struck me as the bad boy type all right when I first met him, and I was thrilled to see my people knowledge didn’t suck as much as I always thought.
“It’s in the past now, but I can’t say I’m proud of some of the experiences I made.” He ran his fingertips over my lower arm absentmindedly. His gaze was averted so I couldn’t read his expression, but I didn’t fail to catch the strained undertones in his voice. He was hiding something. I couldn’t pinpoint what drove me to that conclusion, but I knew I was right.
“Well, we all make mistakes. It’s part of humanity,” I said.
The way he bit his lower lip, hesitating, I could tell he didn’t want to disclose more, which was a shame because I loved hearing about his life. It made me feel connected to him. Maybe he didn’t trust me enough to share everything with me. Maybe by pressing the issue, I’d be asking for too much too soon when every single women’s magazine tells you to take things slowly. Obviously, I didn’t want to be the pushy kind—the one who had to know everything and ended up asking stupid questions like ‘what are you thinking’ or ‘how do you feel about us?’ I knew enough people who made that sort of mistake, and I honestly wanted to learn from their failures. He’d confide in me, eventually. Unfortunately, I had already told him one of my biggest secrets. So there was no way in hell I’d let him get away with not telling me one of his own. It was only fair he open up so we were even.
“What made you give it up?” I asked.
A few moments passed and he didn’t answer. I thought he might be pissed that I took the liberty to insist on a topic he obviously wasn’t comfortable talking about. And then he turned to look at me, and I flinched inwardly at the pain reflected in his expression. His eyes were deep like the ocean and filled with darkness.
I knew this was the moment he’d either share it all, or pull away from me.
“I got involved with the wrong crowd and ended up doing some very stupid things for them,” Jett said. “I had to learn the hard way…it was either jail or let my father buy me out of the mess. I have changed since—” He trailed off, leaving the rest open to interpretation.
The energy he exuded made it clear something bad had happened. The image of him hiding, destroying, fighting, popped into my head and other feelings rushed through me—excitement, fear, arousal—at the knowledge he used to be someone else. Or maybe he wasn’t so different now; he just hid it well. Either way, I realized my opinion of him hadn’t shifted.
“I wish I could tell you more, but there’s no sense in telling you something that I can’t change. Something I can’t explain to myself,” Jett murmured. “We all have secrets. Mine may be worse than I care admit, but I don’t want you to think less of me by telling you what happened, because my past’s nothing but baggage resulting from bad choices and foolish mistakes. What happened can’t be undone. I’m lucky enough to be alive and that’s all that counts. Maybe one day, when I’m confident that nothing can scare you off, I’ll tell you more.”
It hurt that he thought whatever he did would make me run for the hills, and yet I understood where he was coming from. Secrets aren’t easily revealed when you have so much to lose.
“Whatever you did is in the past.” My hand gripped his, giving it a light and reassuring squeeze, signaling I wasn’t one to judge, just like he hadn’t judged me when I disclosed my past. “It’s human nature to make mistakes.”
He caught my glance and something passed between us. A mutual understanding that not knowing everything was better for me. For us. For whatever there might be between us in the future.
I was okay not knowing.
“I’ve been there and I understand.” I forced a soft smile on my lips.
“Thank you.” His gaze passed through me like a current, piercing into my very core, and his thumb began to stroke my fingers. My skin tingled: strong, noticeable, but invisible. For the umpteenth time I wondered whether he could feel our connection. Two opposites drawn together like magnets. As much as I had pushed him away, hating him for the pain he caused me, I couldn’t deny the fact that he was a part of me now. Wherever I went, he would be there, buried deep within my heart. Never letting him go.
“For what?” My voice was husky. “I haven’t done anything.”
“For trusting me.” He cupped my face and forced me to meet his heated gaze. His thumb caressed my lips, his touch as soft as melted chocolate.
Kiss me.
My eyes implored him, following my heart’s command.
“Sorry, I forgot my manners. Are you hungry?” Breaking our special moment, he let go of me and headed for the kitchen. My gaze followed him.
Damn him and his ability to seem so unaffected!
I cleared my voice. “Actually, I’m starving. Can I help in some way?” I walked over, unsure whether to feel happy or disappointed that we were back on easy-going, superficial terrain.
He opened a small cupboard and retrieved two plates. “I’ve already ordered.”
“What are we having?” Standing on my toes, I craned my neck to peek over his shoulder and noticed the large silver tray on the counter. He switched off a little red button on the buffet server and removed the lid. The smell of roasted meat and vegetables hit my nostrils.
“You’re not allergic to walnuts, are you? The filling might have some in it.” He started to pile food on the plates, adding meat, pasta with arugula, white beans, and roasted shallots.
“Not that I know of. And even if I were, I’d take a risk just to taste a bite of this stuff. It smells delicious.”
He sprinkled chopped chives on the plates and grinned. “It tastes better than it looks.”
I remembered the few times he cooked for me. The food hadn’t just looked good and tasted even better, it had been unforgettable. “Even better than your cooking?” I said. “Why, I’m one lucky girl.”
“Wait, what was that?” He eased closer.
“What?” I took a few steps back until my back pressed against something hard.
“That look you just had.” His index finger trailed down my cheek. “Was that sarcasm? Are you implying my cooking was bad?” His pretend frown barely managed to hide a lazy grin, and the glint in his eyes showed me he was joking. I sensed the direction of our conversation had changed. He was digging deeper, searching for the answer to a question only he knew; playing a game.
I bit my lip as I contemplated my options. I could pretend I didn’t like it and risk hurting him, because it was most certainly not the answer he expected. Or I could play along. Hell, I was more than up for a little game.
And then what, Stewart? Open up to him so you end up hurt—all over again?
Taking a sharp breath, I met his beautiful eyes. In front of me he looked huge, dominating. But there was a fragility to him that made me realize he wasn’t as intimidating as I previously thought.
“Maybe.” I tilted my head, giving him full access to my exposed neck. His fingers trailed down my arms and rested on my hips. I swallowed hard and ignored the shiver his touch sent through my body. He wanted me. He wanted me bad. Right here, right now. I could see it in the way his eyes consumed me. And I wanted him, too. Badly.
Why not just give in?
Only once.
“Well, Miss Stewart, if you didn’t like my last attempt at cooking, you sure as hell will have to endure my next one.” His eyes turned a darker shade of green. The air charged with sexual tension, sending yet another electric jolt through my lower body.
Holy cow.
He was going for it. And my resolve was slowly waning.
Reacting on instinct, I dashed past him, heading for the deck but he was quicker. He scooped me up and carried me over his shoulder to the couch.
“Stop it.” Laughing, I tried rather feebly to free myself. “Your attack is absolutely not welcome.”
“Attack, huh?” He put me down on the couch, then shifted between my legs until he was lying on top of me and my hands were pinned above my head. His lips searched mine, barely touching me. Lingering. Teasing. So very close and yet too far.
“Say it.” His tone came low but I registered the command in it.
“What?”
“That you like my cooking.” His beautiful lips twitched with the tiniest hint of a smile.
“Uh…it’s awfully—” I paused, letting him stew just a little bit longer “—good. I like it a lot.”
“Say it again. I think I might have misheard.” His smile was smug, his eyes shimmering with a glint of mischief.
“It’s delicious. The best I’ve ever had.” I wasn’t talking just about cooking, and he knew it.
“Really? The best you’ve ever had?” His tongue flicked over his lips, leaving a tempting wet trail behind.
I nodded, unable to erase the stupid grin off my face.
“Then I’ll let you off the hook…for now, Ms. Stewart.” He shifted on top of me and tightened the grip around my wrists as his lips inched closer to mine. A moment of anticipation passed between us—a silent promise that didn’t need words to convey its meaning. He regarded me with so much warmth and passion, I didn’t need to delve deep into his heart to know what he was feeling.
I had never been so happy in my life, and in that instant I realized that even if I wanted to and the opportunity presented itself—I could never hurt him.
Love is when you’d rather be hurt than hurt the one you love.
Jett’s lips brushed mine tenderly, making my stomach flutter as my eyes drank in the dark sea of his irises. “I hope you don’t expect good manners because I’m starving,” he whispered in that sexy tone of his that made it sound like he wasn’t talking about the food.