It had taken a little digging to uncover all this information through his buddy’s access to the legal network. It would have been a lot easier if she worked for her family, considering they were in the news all the time. Her name was occasionally mentioned in the social columns when she attended this wedding or that ball, usually as an afterthought in a list of “other attendees.”
He didn’t find her associated with any of the other high-profile charities her family was so abundantly proud of being involved in, nor did he find her involved in any way with the family company. Ever. He’d discovered she’d gone to Georgetown on an academic scholarship and finished law school in the upper quarter of her graduating class. He assumed she’d passed the bar on her first try judging by the time frame between graduation and her first job…where she was still employed to this day.
All in a night’s work. A long night, but he’d been unable to stop digging once he’d started. And rather than suppress his appetite for her, it had only whetted it further. Why the division between family and work? Why had she gone rogue and left the family fold? She was the black sheep, and yet she came off as an overachieving corporate climber, dedicated and serious about making her mark in the world. To all appearances, this would have made her golden to her family business.
Unfortunately, there were no answers for those questions on the Internet or anywhere else. Pumping Liza was out of the question, although he’d considered it at about four in the morning, when anything seemed possible.
Unless he came out and asked, he wasn’t going to learn any more about her. But he couldn’t do that. And was, therefore, dying to find out. At least, that was what he told himself. He was the family troubleshooter and he was exceptionally good at his job. He didn’t sleep until he’d figured out how to solve a puzzle. So it was only natural that he was avidly curious about her.
He wasted a minute wondering if she was curious about him, as well. Maybe they could bend the rules, have one long question-and-answer session, then shut the topic down. Even as he thought it, he knew that wouldn’t fly. He could hardly be her secret thrill if she knew everything about him. And maybe knowing would remove too much of the mystique, cloud the time they had with too much reality. And, after all, wasn’t reality what they were trying to escape from with one another?
He slapped the folders shut and shoved them in his briefcase, then slid his laptop and software in after them.
Maybe it would ruin things for her. But he knew a great deal about her now…and it only made him want more.
“Dangerous game you’re in, buddy,” he muttered to himself. If he was smart, he’d play it safe and keep it simple. He shook his head and gave a rueful grin as he let himself out of his room. Since when had he ever played it safe?
9
NATALIE STARED at the abstract painting in front of her. She’d known before coming to Chicago for her meeting with Johanssen and Associates that Jake would be in town at the same time. She’d thought of little else in the weeks since their last…meeting. Now she was wishing she’d never sent the note to Jake’s hotel. She felt foolish standing in the cool, quiet hall of the Art Institute, looking for all the world like a patron of the arts in her simple black suit, sensible designer pumps and fitted suede jacket.
When what she really was, was a woman on the verge of hormonal overload, waiting for a man she was planning to have hot, steamy sex with. Her body gave a little shudder of excitement at the thought, which was why she was still standing there. She only hoped “I’m having a wild fling” wasn’t written all over her.
Maybe he couldn’t come—he hadn’t responded to her note. But then, he’d have no way of doing so. Their relationship had sort of become a “come if you can” type of situation. And boy, am I willing to come.
She covered her mouth and pretended to cough as she choked on a laugh. What had gotten into her?
Actually, it was who. Jake.
And she wanted him into her again. And again.
She thought about him all the time. And who wouldn’t, considering the pleasure he’d given her both times they’d been together? But that wasn’t what bothered her. What worried her was that when she thought about him, it wasn’t always in conjunction with sex. Which was bad. Because that was all they could be for each other. That was the deal. If he had any idea she harbored even the remotest fantasy that this unusual liaison they’d formed would lead to anything more permanent, he’d disappear in a blink and she’d never hear from him again.
So she resolutely did not think about what he might be doing at any given point during the day. She certainly didn’t wonder who he might be doing it with, because that would mean she had some sort of imagined claim on him, which she certainly did not. She sighed and pretended to look at the next painting. Liza might be cut out for this type of thing, but Natalie was fast learning she was not.
Of course, knowing that hadn’t stopped her from sending the note. In fact, she was fairly certain nothing could have stopped her. Could a person get addicted to sex? Well, really great sex, anyway?
“Hi.”
She jumped a foot and only barely managed not to let out a squeal.
Jake laughed and held her arm to steady her as she turned around. “I’m sorry. I guess you were really absorbed in that painting. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she was only absorbed with one thing: him. But he was standing right there in front of her, looking every bit as spectacular as she’d been certain her mind had deluded her into thinking he was. Her body actually ached for him to touch her. The spot on her arm where his fingers brushed her had already come alive. God, she was addicted to him.
Or what he could give her, she corrected herself. Certainly, like any good craving, when she’d had her fill, she’d move on to some other…hobby.
He leaned down so his eyes were level with hers. “Are you okay?”
I am now. “Fine.”
He held her gaze a moment longer, looking skeptical, but simply smiled and held out his arm. “So, we’re off to see a specific exhibit? Or just wander aimlessly?”
“Specific exhibit.” She took his arm, wishing she could get her raging libido in check. This was her day, her plan, and she’d be damned if she wouldn’t handle it with the same easy aplomb he’d handled their last outing. An outing that hadn’t even lasted long enough for them to finish breakfast, she recalled, feeling a little better.
Of course, last time there had been no expectation on either of their parts that the meal would lead to what it had. This time was different. And it was up to her to prove she could handle this like the well-educated, mature, world-traveled woman that she was.
He slid his hand down her arm and linked fingers with hers, gently rubbing his thumb along her wrist. Her knees weakened considerably.
She was in deep trouble.
She moved on, hoping he didn’t notice how unsteady she was.
“This exhibit must really be something special,” he said.
“What?” She heard the thread of amusement in his tone, then realized she was all but racing them down the hallway. So much for sophistication. “Okay, so I’m a bit nervous.”
He squeezed her hand. “Yeah, me too.”
“Right.”
He looked surprised. “No, really.”
“You are the same man that fed me strawberries in front of an eager dining audience at Aunt Sue’s, are you not?”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I didn’t plan that. It just sort of happened.”
He actually did look a tiny bit uncomfortable. His big rangy body was clothed quite handsomely in casual trousers and a pullover sweater beneath a worn leather and suede jacket. He looked rugged and sexy, but polished too, every bit the casual kind of art admirer that might frequent the Institute. And for all she knew, he’d been here hundreds of times. Except when she looked in his eyes. There was a certain deer-caught-in-headlights look to them when he took his eyes off her and looked around. As if she might expect him to make some kind of educated analysis about each piece.
And that fish-out-of-water feeling was what she’d banked her entire plan on. She’d been spoonfed an appreciation of the arts since birth. She’d never particularly enjoyed having it shoved down her throat, but in this case, she hoped to gain an edge, so to speak, by being in a location where she might feel more at home than he did. She sent a silent thank-you to her Aunt Mildred for giving her a Fine Art subscription every year for Christmas. She rarely read the thing, but when she’d seen this exhibit featured on the latest cover, her plan had begun to take shape. She smiled to herself. Oh, if Mildred only knew the sort of learning experience her niece was actually deriving from her not-so-veiled attempt at continuing her art education.
“So, you haven’t been here before?” she asked.
“No. I don’t get much sight-seeing in when I travel. I suppose I should.”
He didn’t look too upset about it. She understood exactly how he felt. When she traveled, it was to work. Her various aunts and uncles had dragged Natalie and her siblings all over the world growing up and she had burned out on cathedrals, monuments, statues and museums before the age of twelve. She still couldn’t get all that excited about another piece of ancient pottery or Impressionist oil painting.