Nobody But You
Page 42“I can’t even. What’s up?”
“Just talked to Dad.”
Brooklyn sighed. “And how did that go?”
“The good news is that in the best-daughter competition, you’re still winning. The bad news is that he’s still upset about the divorce.”
“You’ve done some good things too,” Brooklyn said. “Marrying a dickbag wasn’t one of them. Don’t feel bad about leaving him. In fact, leaving him should be added to the list of good things you’ve done, stat. Hang on—Kyle,” she yelled, “if you shove that crayon tip up your nose, so help me, I’ll—shit. Soph, I gotta go.”
Sophie slipped her phone back into her pocket and felt a tingle of awareness along the nape of her neck that had her lifting her head.
Her gaze collided with Jacob’s.
He stood at the end of the aisle in front of the frozen pizzas, wearing sexy jeans and an army-green T-shirt that fit like it’d been made for him.
Bad for you, she reminded herself. All you’ve done is daydream about the things he did to you in his great big bed with his great big—
“Hey,” he said.
He smiled like maybe he knew what she was thinking about. And his smile made her remember all the things she’d been coaxed into doing the last time he’d flashed it at her.
Just keep your cool. And your clothes on. She eyeballed his section of the freezer. “Dinner?”
“Yeah. The question is three meat and five cheese or fully loaded.”
“In other words, a heart attack waiting to happen?”
He slid a laughing gaze her way. “Says the woman who ate a heart attack for breakfast the other day.”
She’d had something else for breakfast that day too. Him. Her body involuntarily softened at the memory. Dammit. “That was a hangover cure,” she said. “Entirely different.”
His grin made the woman behind Sophie drop her frozen chicken Alfredo casserole.“There’s healthier stuff in the fresh aisle,” she said.
He gave her cart—and the ice cream in it—a long look.
He laughed, but grabbed a loaded pizza. “I don’t really have all that long of a life expectancy,” he said. “So I’m not too worried about a heart attack.”
That sobered her up pretty quick. And right then and there she made yet another choice. No regrets. “Put the pizza back,” she said. “I’m grilling spice-rubbed beef tenderloin with chimichurri for a client. I’ll have extra.”
“You had me at beef tenderloin,” he said, making her thighs quiver. “Although I’ve got no idea what the hell chimichurri is.”
“It’s a tangy, zesty condiment that’s like a cross between vinaigrette and pesto,” she told him. “I’ll have plenty.”
“How do you know how hungry I am?”
The words—not to mention his voice—gave her a shiver in the very best kind of way. “How hungry are you?” she heard herself whisper.
He let five solid beats go by, during which time he just looked at her. “Frighteningly hungry,” he finally said.
Another woman promptly ran her cart into Sophie’s. “Oh, sorry!” the woman gasped, face red as she hurried off.
“You’re making quite an impression,” Sophie managed dryly.
But she didn’t make a move to a safer zone. In fact, all she could think of was how he’d felt moving over her, in her, his voice a low, sexy murmur in her ear. She knew the texture of his skin, the dips and valleys of his beautiful body, the sounds he made when he came…
Something flashed in his eyes. Heat for sure. And maybe humor. “I like what you’re thinking about,” he said.
“You have no idea what I’m thinking about.”
“Wanna bet?” he asked, running one hand up her back until the pads of his fingers slid beneath her hair and brushed the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.
Her very long few days vanished in the flame of hunger flickering to life at his touch. She’d thought she could stay away, ignore him. Ignore this. She’d been delusional.
Jacob lowered his head so that his mouth was a fraction of an inch from hers and they were sharing air. He wasn’t touching her anywhere but with those rough fingertips, and yet she could feel him, big, warm, strong. So strong.