She bent over and took a few quick huffs of breath, then straightened again. Jeff was there, hand on her back.
“Geez, sorry. I didn’t mean to catch you so off guard.”
“I’m fine. Just recovering.” Another moment and she almost felt back to normal. “Did you forget something at the bar? I can go unlock and—”
He was on her before she could finish the sentence. Flattened against the wall, his body laid out over hers, he kissed her with more enthusiasm than skill.
Aw, shit. This was so not how she wanted things to go with him. Now she’d have to let him down and he’d be embarrassed—because guys always were when they got shot down—and it’d end the nice friendship they’d been starting. Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
She waited, unresponsive, for him to pick up the cue there was only one participant in the kiss. When he didn’t seem to notice, she tried pushing gently on his shoulders. He merely rolled a little, squishing her harder into the brick of the wall behind her. Her elbow scraped on a particularly rough brick, stinging a little.
Okay. Fuck being gentle.
“Sto—”
But Jeff’s tongue swept in before she could finish the word. It was like being French kissed by a puppy. Good Christ, the kid was bad. She made one final attempt to shove at his shoulders, but when he didn’t budge, she started to raise a knee to hit his groin.
But the weight, the oppressive strain against her, was gone before she had the chance to nail the death blow. She took one deep, fresh gulp of air before opening her eyes a crack.
Jeff stood a few feet away, hands balled into fists at his sides, weight on his toes, looking like he was ready to go a few rounds. And Trace Muldoon stood, hip-shot, relaxed, with what Jo determined was a deceptively easygoing smile on his face.
“Hey, Jo.”
“Hey, Trace.” She refrained from wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist. She still liked Jeff, even if the kid couldn’t take a hint or kiss for shit. This wasn’t going to end well regardless—no need to embarrass him more. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
“Do you mind?” Jeff shot at him.
“I think the point is Jo minds.” Trace looked to her for confirmation, though it was unnecessary. She nodded slightly but held up a hand when he would have said more.
“Jeff …”Don’t be cliché, don’t say you’re flattered.“It’s just not like that for me. Sorry.”
He stared at her a moment, then at Trace. “It’s like that for him. Right?”
Trace watched him carefully, not moving an inch as he spoke. “That would fall under the category of none of your damn business.”
It was the stillness that alerted her to an impending problem. “Trace,” Jo warned. More softly, she added, “I’m sorry, Jeff.”
He recovered quickly, and she was relieved. With more bravado than truth, he held up his hands and said, “Whatever.” But if he felt like he saved face, that’s what mattered.
She waited until Jeff headed toward his car. But neither of them spoke until the car was nothing but dual pinpricks of light in the distance.
“Dick,” Trace muttered.
Jo frowned. “No, that’s not right. He was just confused. And by the way, how did you know I wasn’t totally into that?”
“Because you’re the one who said no others. You’re not the type to go back on your word.”
She liked that. That he took her word at face value and didn’t assume she was playing games. “That wasn’t fun.”
“Never is, breaking a man’s heart. Right?” He smiled and held out a hand. “Or were you a big man-killer back in all those cities you lived in before?”
She laughed and took it. “Oh, yeah. Can’t you just picture it? Me wearing an all-leather dominatrix getup, waiting for men to walk into my black widow’s web of seduction.” She chuckled again, and almost stumbled on the third step after looking at his face. “I was kidding.”
“So, you don’t own a leather dominatrix outfit?” His tone was morose.
Time for some fun. “No. I gave it away before I moved.” She waited until they stepped up to the landing in front of her front door, then trailed a hand over his chest on the way into the apartment. “I kept the whip though. Just a memento …”
She wasn’t even completely through the door before he swept her up from behind and slammed it shut. Jo clung to his neck and waited for the dizziness to pass when he put her down somewhere unexpected … the kitchen table.
With a quick spin, she was bent over the cool laminated top. His long fingers found the button of her jeans and flicked it open with no help, zipper sliding down easily. She wasn’t shocked, but she appreciated the originality.