Jake leaned back. “Don’t tell me this is your first kiss.”

“No. Of course not. I just…I didn’t know you were going to kiss me.” He arched a brow. “Was I supposed to ask for permission?” Her heart pounded, her hand began to sweat in his. Really, no wonder he thought her inexperienced. What an idiot. “I can do better.”

“I’ll just bet you can.”

Could all men lower their voices and whisper in a way that made a woman melt, or was it just Jake? She shivered as he leaned in again, and this time she was ready.

Or she thought she was ready, but not for the power of a kiss that rocked her right off her feet.

She’d expected more of the same, a light sweep of his lips against hers, a chaste, get-to-know-you kind of kiss.

Instead, he leaned her back over his arm and took her mouth in a kiss that spoke of possession, of demand, forcing her mouth open to slide his tongue inside.

Every part of her body exploded with sensation, with desire, with a hunger that hadn’t been satisfied in far too long. She felt every part of that kiss in every nerve ending of her body.

When Jake raised her up and pulled away, she was dizzy, turned on and ready for more.

“Now when we’re together in front of your dad, we’ll act more like a couple,” he said, taking her hand and leading her back to the table.

Disoriented, Lucy grabbed her beer and took a couple deep swallows.

Jake nursed his beer and grinned at her, seemingly unaffected by what had just happened.

He sure could turn it on and off easily, couldn’t he?

But could she? Because she was hot and bothered as hell, and not at all ready to stop what he’d just started.

This game she’d agreed to might be more than she could handle.

A lot more.

Chapter Three

Jake was out of his mind. Certifiable. What had he been thinking, suggesting that Lucy use him to get her father off her back?

He couldn’t even blame booze as the cause of his idiotic suggestion. He’d only had one beer when he made the offer to Lucy.

He could think of a lot of fun ways that Lucy Fairchild could use him. But as a boy toy? No thanks.

And kissing her? Yeah, that had been a huge mistake, because she’d tasted like everything he wanted, and knew he’d never be able to have. He was in way over his head on this one.

Shoving the paperwork on his desk aside, he grabbed his now cold coffee and headed to the counter for a warm up. How in hell was he going to get out of this mess he’d volunteered for? He had no time for this. Work was intensifying, he had bids to catch up on before he missed the deadlines, and he needed to be here every day to oversee the construction.

Spending time escorting Lucy around would be a colossal waste of his time. He had no relationship with her, had no interest in her other than their one date that was more a dare than anything. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t attracted to her.

That wild, curly hair was like a part of her personality. A part she kept well hidden, if she even knew it existed. He’d love to be the one to unleash the fire he suspected she held deep inside. He’d bet a year’s income that under that cool, socialite exterior beat the heart of a tigress. He’d sampled a bit of that wildness last night. It only left him craving more.

She was so damn vulnerable it made him ache. She’d looked lost sitting at the bar last night, mumbling about how to extricate herself from her father’s clutches.

The old man had her on a leash, trying to dictate how she should live her life.

And his little tigress didn’t like it one bit. He could tell she was literally chomping at the bit to be free, but her father had some kind of hold on her, and she couldn’t figure out how to get loose.

Yet. With a little help, she could. But dammit, why had he volunteered to be her rescuer?

“Uh oh. What’s wrong?”

Jake turned at the sound of Bob’s voice. “Just busy.” Bob climbed up the stairs and threw his clipboard on the desk. “You’re scowling like you’re pissed as hell about something.”

Yeah, at himself. “Nah, nothing’s wrong. Just trying to get my head around this project.”

“You’re doin’ fine, kid. Don’t worry about it. You got the smarts that most people with them fancy degrees only wished they had. And you’re a damn fine construction boss. Don’t sweat it.”

“Thanks.” Easier said than done. He had to sweat it, had to worry about it. About everything. He couldn’t fail.

“So, are you gonna tell me or will I have to pry it out of you like a dentist after tooth decay?”

“Tell you what?”

“About the date last night.”

“Nothing much to tell.” Maybe if he played it off like no big deal, Bob would let it drop.

“That good, huh?”

No such luck. “It was…interesting.”

“How so?”

The man was worse than having a mother around. “Just interesting.”

“You gonna see her again?”

“Not a chance,” he lied. The last thing he needed right now was browbeating from Bob. The less he knew the better.

“Why not?”

Jake shrugged. “She’s not my type.”

Bob smirked, his devilish eyes full of glee. Jake didn’t even want to think about what was rolling around the old man’s head.

“Why isn’t she your type?”

God, would the inquisition never end? “She’s too short, too big in the hips. She’s conceited, talks all about herself, boring as hell and I’d rather spend a night at a bridge club tournament than have to put up with Lucy Fairchild again.” Bob spit his tobacco into the cup on the floor, then grinned like a madman. “She’s standing right behind you.”

Huh? He turned quickly to find the subject of their discussion standing at the entrance to the trailer, her arms folded across her chest, an annoyed look on her gorgeous face.

Oh, hell. How much had she heard?

“Was I mistaken last night when you mentioned you wanted to go out again? Because it sure sounded like you’d rather have brain surgery without anesthesia than another date with me.”

Crap. She’d heard it all.

“I, uh, I, uh…”

“I wouldn’t worry about that stuff he said, honey.” Bob grinned at Lucy on his way out and said, “He just made up a pack of lies so I wouldn’t make him admit how much he really does like you.”

Lucy smiled at Bob and leveled a smirk in Jake’s direction. “I’ll keep his tendency to lie in mind. By the way, I’m Lucy Fairchild.”

“Bob Dixon.” Bob shook Lucy’s hand, then made his escape.

Oh sure, Jake thought. Desert the captain of the ship as he’s about to be boarded by a ruthless pirate. A very irritated one at that.

“Sorry,” he said as she stepped into the room. “Foot in mouth disease. I get it a lot.”

“I meant what I said,” she said, looking not at all comfortable standing in the middle of the room.

“Relax and sit down.” He pulled a chair for her in front of his desk. “It’s a little cramped in here, but you don’t need to hover in the middle of the room.”

“I’m fine standing.”

Yeah, right. She looked about ready to sprint out the door. He wanted her to stay so he could look at her for a few minutes. She wore a business suit, same as yesterday, except this one was a green color that made her eyes stand out and grab his attention. And it wasn’t quite as long as that calf length one she wore yesterday. This one hit her at the knee. Damn she had nice legs.

“Sit,” he commanded, then winced. “Please.”

Breathing out a sigh, she took the two steps necessary to reach his desk and sat at the edge of the chair, her back stiff and her chin lifted.

“I didn’t mean anything I said to Bob, so wipe that stern lawyer look off your face. I told him I wasn’t going to see you again because I don’t need him bugging me with questions every time we go out.”

She looked down at her skirt, wiping away imaginary crumbs or wrinkles or something. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to look at him. “It was a stupid idea, anyway.”

No it wasn’t. “I don’t think it’s stupid.”

Her eyes met his, her expression shouting her vulnerability. “You don’t?” He smiled. “No, I don’t. Besides, we made a deal. I’m your date for however long you want to use me.”

“I wish you wouldn’t put it that way,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It sounds like I’m, well, like I’m using you.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know.” She stood, knocking her purse to the floor. He bent down and picked it up, taking just a second to admire the sexy curve of her calf.

Resisting the urge to run his hands along those fine legs, he forced his fingers to grasp her purse, instead, then stood and handed it to her.

“Thanks.”

Instead of backing away like he should, he stood where he was, mere inches from her.

She smelled good. Like fresh fruit in the summer. Sharp, tangy, citrusy. He wanted to lick that spot on her neck revealed when she turned her head to the side, see if she tasted as good as she smelled. He wanted to kiss her again like he had last night, only this time he didn’t want to stop.

“I don’t mind being used.” He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with Lucy in his work trailer in the middle of the day. Anyone could walk in and find him all but panting and drooling over her. Wouldn’t that give the guys a lot to talk about during lunch?

But damn if he could help the way she made him feel. He picked up one of those crazy curls that never seemed to want to stay put in that clip behind her head, slid his fingers over it, straightened it out as far as it would go, then let loose and watched it spring back into place. Her hair felt like soft butter.

“I should go,” she said in a near breathless voice.

He’d like to get her to pant like that from something else, feel her chest rise and fall against his as she gasped for breath underneath him.

Damn. He shifted, hoping she wouldn’t notice his growing interest in her.

“Should you?” He didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stand there the rest of the day and let him look at her, inhale her sweet fragrance, and think about what it would be like to touch her. Was her skin as soft as her hair? Would it mold against his hand like that curl did?

“Oh. I almost forgot why I came here.” She took a quick step back, putting some distance between them. Jake shook his head to clear his mind.

“What is it?”

“There’s a charity gala on Friday night. I was wondering if you’d go with me.”

“Sure. What’s the charity?”

“The Fairchild Foundation. We provide scholarships for underprivileged children.”

“Impressive. Just tell me where and when.”

“I’ll pick you up in the limo.”

He snorted a laugh. “I don’t think so. Besides, I have a meeting in San Jose on Friday and I don’t know when I’ll get back. Best if I just meet you there.” She chewed her lower lip and then nodded. “All right. I’ll give you the address. Oh, and you’ll need a tux. I’ll pay for it, of course.”

“I can rent my own tux, and pay for it myself.”

“No, really, I—”

“Lucy. I’ll take care of it. I’m not a pauper, you know.” Her face was cute when she blushed, her cheeks turning all pink. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

“No sweat.”

She scribbled down the particulars and handed him the paper. “Friday night. Eight o’clock at the Hotel San Marcos on Van Ness.”

“Okay. I’ll see you there.”

“I’ll leave your name at the door.”

“No problem.”

“I’ll let you get back to work now.”

“See you later.”

“Bye.” With a last glance and quick smile over her shoulder, she stepped out of the trailer.

Jake exhaled. For such a simple discussion it had sure been intense. It was like both of them couldn’t wait to get away from the other. Or maybe both of them couldn’t wait to get closer.

Lucy did something to his libido, something he normally had well under control.

Typically he called the shots with women, but ever since he met Lucy Fairchild he was lucky to remember his own name let alone think about maintaining the upper hand.

He had to remember this was nothing but a game. And a short lived one at that.

Besides, he had way too much work to do to be mooning over a woman. He couldn’t afford to slip up now, not when he was so close to success that would banish the demons that had hounded him all these years.

Lucy paced outside the ballroom and checked her watch. It was ten minutes after eight. Not that most of the crowd wouldn’t show up fashionably late, but she hoped Jake would just show up. She smoothed her hands over her hair, hoping by sheer force of will to keep the curls from springing free from her updo tonight. She had no time to battle a hair crisis.

She stopped to check her reflection in the lobby mirror. Hair still glued to her head in one piece, check. Off-the-shoulder, black velvet ball gown not revealing too much cleavage, check. Lipstick not stuck to her teeth, check.

Where was he? She checked her watch again, then palmed her somersaulting stomach. This was worse than the other day in the construction trailer with Jake.

She’d felt like a schoolgirl then, stumbling over her words and practically her own feet. How could a man covered in dust and grime, wearing stained jeans and a Dalton Construction T-shirt look so darn sexy? And how come she noticed that? She barely paid any attention to the designer-clad professionals at the firm. Something about Jake captured her interest, and held it.