The absolute simplicity of the plan warned Ming that she was missing something.
Jason was in his garage when Ming parked her car in his driveway and killed the engine. She hadn’t completely decided to accept his terms, but she was leaning that way. It made her more sensitive to how attractive Jason looked in faded jeans and a snug black T-shirt with a Ford Mustang logo. Wholly masculine, supremely confident. Her stomach flipped in full-out feminine appreciation as he came to meet her.
“Hey, what’s up?”
Light-headed from the impact of his sexy grin, she indicated the beer in his hand. “Got one of those for me?”
“Sure.”
He headed for the small, well-stocked fridge at the back of the garage, and she followed. When he bent down to pull out a bottle, her gaze locked on his perfect butt. Hammered by the urge to slide her hands over those taut curves, she knew she was going to do this. Correction. She wanted to do this.
“Thanks,” she murmured, applying the cold bottle to one overheated cheek.
Jason watched her through narrowed eyes. “I thought you didn’t drink beer anymore.”
“Do you have any wine?” she countered, sipping the beer and trying not to grimace.
“No.”
“Then I’m drinking beer.” She prowled past racing trophies and photos of Jason and Max in one-piece driving suits. “How’d your weekend go?”
“Come upstairs and see.”
Jason led the way into the house and together they ascended the staircase to Jason’s second floor. He’d bought the home for investment purposes and had had it professionally decorated. The traditional furnishings weren’t her taste, but they suited the home’s colonial styling.
He’d taken one of the four bedrooms as his man cave. A wall-to-wall tribute to his great passion for amateur car racing. On one wall, a worn leather couch, left over from his college days, sat facing a sixty-inch flat-screen TV. If Jason wasn’t racing his Mustang or in the garage restoring a car, he was here, watching NASCAR events or recaps of his previous races.
He hit the play button on the remote and showed Ming the clip of the race’s conclusion.
The results surprised her. “You didn’t win?” He’d been having his best season ever. “What happened?”
His large frame slammed into the old couch as he sat down in a disgruntled huff. A man as competitive as Jason had a hard time coming in second. “Had a lot on my mind.”
The way his gaze bore into her, Ming realized he blamed her for his loss. She joined him on the couch and jabbed her finger into his ribs. “I’m not going to apologize for taking a week to give your terms some thought.”
“I would’ve been able to concentrate if I’d known your answer.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she said, keeping her tone light. Mouth Sahara dry, she drank more beer.
He dropped his arm over the back of the couch. His fingertips grazed her bare shoulder. “You don’t think the thought of us making love has preoccupied me this last week?”
“Then you agree that we run the risk of changing things between us.”
“It doesn’t have to.” Jason’s fingers continued to dwell on her skin, but now he was trailing lines of fire along her collarbone. “Besides, that’s not what preoccupied me.”
This told Ming all she needed to know about why he’d suggested they skip the fertility clinic. For Jason this was all about the sex. Fine. It could be all about the sex for her, too.
“Okay. Let’s do it.” She spoke the words before she could second-guess herself. She stared at the television screen. It would be easier to say this next part without meeting his penetrating gaze. “But I have a few conditions of my own.”
He leaned close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck. “You want me to romance you?”
As goose bumps appeared on her arms, she made herself laugh. “Hardly. There is a window of three days during which we can try. If I don’t get pregnant your way, then you agree to do it my way.” Stipulating her terms put her back on solid ground with him. “I’m not planning on dragging this out indefinitely.”
“I agree to those three days, but I want uninterrupted time with you.”
She dug her fingernails beneath the beer label. In typical Jason fashion, he was messing up her well-laid plans.
She’d been thinking in terms of three short evenings of fantastic sex here at his house and then heading back home to relive the moments in the privacy of her bedroom. Not days and nights of all Jason all the time. What if she talked in her sleep and told him all her secret fantasies about him? What if he didn’t let her sleep and she grew so delirious from all the hours of making love that she said something in the heat of passion?