Skintight Page 9

  Yeah, him being so close to the hip crowd in those days and all. “I think they’re younger than I am.”

  “Oh, I suppose they are. But wouldn’t it have been something if you’d all gone to the same high school together?”

  “Yeah. Something.” Reaching across the table, he took her hand in one of his and reached into his pocket with his other. “Do you remember me telling you at the coffee shop this afternoon that I’d had a particularly good day at the tables?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, I got you a little something to celebrate.”

  “You’re kidding? You got me something?” Laughing, she sat up straighter. “What is it?”

  Pulling the tiny jeweler’s box from his pocket, he slid it across the table.

  She simply stared at it.

  Tipping his head to gaze at her in puzzlement, he gave it a gentle nudge, pushing it closer to her. “Open it.”

  Still she hesitated, then finally reached out and picked it up. Slowly, she opened the lid. And sucked in a breath.

  “Oh, my God.” She looked up at him. “It’s beautiful. Exquisite.” She bent her head to study it. “Oh, my heavens, it’s my little purse!” she said in delight. “How did you ever find something so perfect? It’s just lovely. Thank you so much.” Snapping the case shut, she slid it back in front of him. “But I can’t take it.”

  “What?” He snapped erect, his pleasure in her reaction forgotten beneath the sudden cold slap of rejection. “Of course you can!”

  “No,” she insisted softly. “I really can’t.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  She touched gentle fingertips to his fisted hand. “Because it’s much too much.”

  “I don’t get it. You were tickled to be getting a present. You can’t deny it—I saw the way you perked up.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Jax.” She pulled her hand back. “I thought it was going to be a four-piece box of Godivas! Or a gift certificate for a couple of venti mocha Frappuccinos. Not jewels!”

  “It’s just a little necklace.”

  “This is good jewelry, from the looks of it—in fact, I’ll eat my shirt if those aren’t real pavé diamonds.”

  “So?”

  “So, I haven’t known you long enough to accept it.” The look she bent on him was suddenly fierce. “Just because I’m a showgirl doesn’t mean I’m for sale.”

  “I never thought that you were,” he lied. His heart beat all out of proportion to the situation—after all, it wasn’t as if a million-dollar tournament were on the line here. Opening the lid again, he pushed the tiny box back in front of her. “But you have to accept it. Please. Look at the back.”

  “Oh, God, please tell me that you didn’t have it engraved.” She picked up the minuscule diamond purse from its velvet-and-satin bed and turned it over. Holding it close to a little candle-shaped light on the table, she bent over it, then sighed. “You did. 2 Treena,” she read. “4 making me laff.” Her rigidly set shoulders slumped. “Oh, Jax.”

  “I would have spelled everything correctly, but it’s a little piece and it wouldn’t fit.”

  “Jax, I can’t—”

  “I’m not asking for anything in return,” he insisted, and surprisingly, in that moment he actually meant it. “I just had an amazing day at the tables, and I saw this on my way to buy myself a new jacket and thought of you. Don’t read anything into it that’s not there,” he said, abruptly relinquishing his own much-anticipated plan to climb into her bed that night.

  The fact that he was more concerned about making her smile again than fucking her made him straighten in his seat as uneasiness crawled up his spine.

  Then he shoved it aside. So, hey, big deal. He’d made a tactical error with the necklace, but if she wanted to pretend she was the girl next door, he could do that. In fact, it was to his benefit. After all, it would save him money, and that was always appreciated. He watched her replace the necklace in its box and gaze down at it with an expression that seemed to mix longing with repugnance. Finally, she closed the lid and pushed the tiny case into her purse. Her reluctance was palpable, however, and it was clear to him that she was keeping it only because the engraving made returning the piece impossible.

  A big tactical error, and he needed to remedy it, pronto. “When’s your next day off?”

  She glanced up cautiously. “Tuesday.”

  He quickly ran his agenda through his mind. “Perfect. I’m scheduled for a game at Binion’s, but that’s not until seven. You want to do the tourist thing with me and go out to Hoover Dam?”

  “Have a non-Las Vegas date, you mean?”

  “Exactly.”

  She gazed at him for a moment, then gave him a slow smile. “Sure. That would be nice.”

  “Excellent,” he said. “Consider it a date then.”

  Her smile widened, and he felt the knot in his gut relax.

  Not that he really cared about her feelings or needed her approval, he assured himself quickly. Hell, no. What he felt was relief over the fact he was getting his program back on track.

  The little voice in his head that demanded he acknowledge the core truth of a situation started jangling, but he ruthlessly ignored it.

  For once in his life, he had no desire to analyze the heart of an issue. So maybe he was stretching the facts a little to suit his purposes.

  He could live with that.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  GETTING READY FOR her date Tuesday morning, Treena bent to work a strappy sandal onto her left foot while still squeezing her right upper lashes between the rubber crimpers of her eyelash curler. The multitasking worked such a treat that she switched to the opposite side, curling her left lashes while reaching cross-body to slide the sandal’s back strap up over her right heel. Once she had finished applying her makeup, she turned to her jewelry box. Pulling open one of its drawers, she stared at the necklace Jax had bought her.

  She had such mixed emotions about it. On the one hand, it was possibly the most perfect gift she’d ever received. On the other, it was the kind of thing a Stage Door Johnny bought a showgirl when he wanted to get his hands down her knickers.

  She fingered the necklace’s delicate chain, rearranging it into different configurations on the drawer’s forest-green felt lining while she debated whether or not to wear it on her date. Finally, she picked the piece up and carried it over to the mirror. Leaning forward, she hooked it behind her neck, finessed the pendant into just the right placement, then stood back to check out the result.

  She’d dressed for the Hoover Dam tour in an above-the-knee khaki skirt, low-heeled sandals, and a burnt-orange tank top, and she half expected the necklace to be too dressy for such casual attire. In a way she’d hoped it would be, since that would at least relieve her of having to make a decision.

  But it wasn’t. Although the little pavé handbag glittered in the muted sunlight slanting through the blinds, it was a dainty enough piece to wear dressed up or down. She sighed, checked the way it hung above the hint of cleavage reflected above her tank’s scooped neckline, then dropped her hands to her sides. All right, then. It stayed.

  The doorbell rang, and she shoved the drawer closed and grabbed up her tube of sunscreen, shoving it into her tote as she headed for the tiny entryway. She pulled open the door, expecting to see Jax, but it was Carly who stood on the other side.

  Her girlfriend zeroed in on the necklace. “Oh, good. You decided to wear it,” she said, and walked into the condo. “You gotta give the Incredible Hunk points for having a good eye. That is so you.” She caught Treena sneaking a peek at the mantel clock and gave her a wry smile and a friendly nudge with her elbow. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to horn in on your date. I just wanted to catch you before you left to ask if I can borrow your car this afternoon. I picked up a screw in one of my back tires, and the guy at the station said it could be up to three hours before they’ll get to it. If it’s sooner rather than later, I’m set. But if they actually keep it that l
ong, I’ve got a conflict because Rufus is scheduled to have his shots brought up to date at one-thirty.” She blew out a gusty sigh. “Why is it again that I thought bringing that mutt home with me was a good idea?”

  “Well, lemme see. Could it be because you’re a soft-hearted sucker who’s constitutionally incapable of leaving a stray on the side of the highway? And that you love him to death?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Thanks. He’s been such a pill lately that I tend to forget that last part.”

  “And yet you wouldn’t change a flea on his furry little body.” Treena dug her keys out of her bag, but then dropped them back into its inside pocket and went to the kitchen for the spare key instead. “I hate trying to wrestle the house key off the ring. I can never seem to do it without snapping a nail.” Coming back, she tossed the spare, with its attached keyless remote, to her friend. “Here.”

  Carly snatched it out of the air. “Thanks. I’ll have it back before you get home from your date.” She nodded at Treena’s medium-sized tote. “Got your sunscreen in there?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Water?”

  “Oh. No. Thanks for reminding me.” She strode into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bottles out of the fridge. “This should be enough to get us started.”

  “You think?” Carly gave her a wry smile. “I know I started this by asking, but you’re headed for a tourist trap, toots. It’s not like there won’t be lots and lots of places to buy stuff.” She reached out and gave Treena a quick, fierce, one-armed hug. “You have fun.”

  “I intend to, since I’m blowing off a practice session at the studio to go play.”

  “Good for you. You’ve been knocking yourself out with all those classes and studio sessions—you can afford one day off. Speaking of which, I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks for this.” She waved the key ring. “It saves me having to make a bunch of complicated arrangements to fit everything in today.” She headed for the door.

  Treena accompanied her and jumped in surprise when Carly opened the door and they found Jax standing on the other side with his hand raised to knock.

  He dropped it to his side and gave her a quick up-and-down. His gaze lingered for the briefest instant first on Treena’s necklace, then on her bare legs, but it was the way his gaze ultimately rose to her face and stayed there that she found most flattering.

  “Wow,” he said. “You look great.”

  “Thanks. So do you.” And he did. It was the first time she’d seen him without one of his designer jackets. Dressed in a tight T-shirt and jeans his shoulders looked wider and his legs seemed longer. The sum total, she decided, made him look somehow tougher, less civilized, than she previously imagined.

  “Yes, we all be pretty,” Carly said and performed a tap sequence that culminated in a slow twirl with her hands spread, palms up, to display her baggy faded shorts and grape-juice-colored sports bra.

  They laughed, and while Jax assured Carly that she, too, looked damn fine Treena was relieved that her friend had thrown a breaker on the electric tension circuiting through her. It had been a long, long while since she’d felt this sort of high-voltage sexual awareness for a man, and she was having a hard time remembering how to conduct herself.

  On the other hand, the great thing about being in Jax’s company was that in the end she invariably found it easy just being herself. Greater yet was the way he seemed to appreciate that, to genuinely like the real her. For if that wasn’t one of the sweetest feelings in the world, she didn’t know what was.

  He ushered her out of the apartment and through the complex grounds to the sidewalk. When he stopped a few moments later in front of a red sports car with a black convertible top, all she could do was stare at it in amazement. “Wow,” she breathed. “Is this yours?”

  “I wish.” His eyes crinkled as he gazed down at it with the same sort of adoration Carly showed her pets. “I rented it.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of these before. What is it?”

  “A Viper SRT-10.” He ran a reverential hand along one sleek, glossy bumper. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

  “I’ll say. But it must be costing you a fortune. I don’t know why I didn’t think to offer the use of my car today.”

  He gave her an indecipherable look. “I can afford it, Treena. And I thought it might be a treat. For both of us.”

  She grimaced. “I’m sorry—I’m screwing this all up, aren’t I? I’m just so used to watching my pennies that I tend to forget not everyone has to. What I meant to say was, what a smokin’ car! Are you going to put the top down?”

  “Would you mind? I know not all women enjoy the wind messing with their ’dos.”

  She made a rude noise and dug a small gold-patterned bandana out of her tote. Finger-combing her hair into a ponytail at her nape, she said, “Here, hold this together for me for a sec.”

  Jax reached around her to grasp her hair in both fists before she could present him with her back, and she quickly twisted the scarf into a rope. He stood close, and their arms rubbed together as she raised her own to knot the bandana around her ponytail. God, his chest looked as if it had been chiseled out of granite, but his inner forearms felt smoother than satin as they glided against hers. Plus he smelled like a million bucks, all laundered cotton and clean, healthy man. Her heart hammering in her chest, she slowly raised her gaze to find him standing very still as he stared down at her.

  “Um…there,” she said and stepped back before she could do something demented like take a big juicy bite out of his bottom lip. “That oughtta keep it out of my face.” She scrambled into the car, breathing shallowly to avoid pulling any more of his intoxicating scent into her lungs when he climbed in the driver’s side. It felt lodged in her senses as it was.

  She pulled a tooled-leather visor and a pair of sunglasses out of her bag and slipped them on. Feeling a bit more armored, she turned to look at him.

  He was watching her, a small smile kicking up one corner of his mouth. “You got the kitchen sink in that bag, too?”

  “Everything but, pal.” She pulled out one of the bottles of water. “Want a drink?”

  “Nope. But I’ll take one of these.” And leaning over, he hooked his fingers around the back of her neck and tugged her close to kiss her.

  Her mind shut down as blood departed her brain to pulse crazily in her lips. The water bottle thunked forgotten onto the plushly carpeted floorboards.

  He kept the caress soft and brief, and straightening back into the driver’s seat a moment later, he licked his lips. “Just thought I’d get that out of the way so I don’t spend the whole day dwelling on it. I like to believe I could’ve carried on a rational conversation either way, but the sad truth is, if I-shoulda-kissed-her is wailing away in the back of my mind our entire date, chances of that are probably pretty slim.”

  Her response sounded mortifyingly like, “Ulp.” Which only went to show that while he might be able to carry on an intelligent conversation, her own abilities were in serious doubt. She was grateful when he donned his sunglasses and turned away, reaching for the ignition key. The car roared to life and loud rock and roll blared from the stereo.

  He shot her a grin as he turned down the volume. “Sorry about that. This is the kind of day, the kind of car that just makes me want to tool around with the top dropped down and the tunes cranked up.” He lowered the convertible top, and intense heat beat down on them. “Whoa. Maybe this isn’t such a brilliant idea, after all.” Reaching across the gearshift, he skimmed his fingers down her forearm, and his hooded gaze behind golden brown lenses followed the movement. “You’ve got the kind of skin that looks like it’d burn real easy.”

  Why did she feel as if he’d just stroked something a lot more intimate than her arm? She cleared her throat. “I don’t tan worth a damn, that’s for sure. But I slathered up with SPF 45, and I have more in here.” She patted her tote.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” Awareness throttling back, she ran an
appreciative hand over the butter-smooth leather seat. Seeing the water bottle on the floor, she leaned to pick it up, giving him a crooked smile. “This is just too fabulous to pass up.”

  “Yeah.” He flashed her a grin. “So we better get going, then, before we fry.” He put the car in gear and accelerated away from the curb.

  Hoover Dam was only about thirty miles away at the Nevada-Arizona border, and Treena spent most of the trip enjoying the wind in her hair as she watched Jax drive. He was a good driver, fast but not careless or run-up-your-tail impatient. His grip was easy on the wheel as they roared down the road, and she found her gaze returning again and again to his hands.

  She liked them a lot. They were long and strong-looking, with clean nails, largish knuckles, and soft veins that roped the backs just below the skin. They looked very…masculine. Competent. And she kept remembering the feel of them—slightly rough of skin, but gentle in her hair and firm and sure on the back of her neck.

  “You said you’re used to watching your pennies,” he suddenly yelled over the rushing wind and the CD that she’d turned back up because playing it at high volume seemed to give him so much enjoyment. “Didn’t your husband leave you any money? No insurance or anything?”

  “No.” Having no desire to impart this particular information at the top of her lungs, she reached over and turned down the music. “Big Jim’s illness ate up his fortune,” she told him. “Doctors, drugs, hospitalization—they’re all prohibitively expensive these days, even with Medicare. And maybe because he was a big, healthy man before the cancer, he’d never carried medical insurance for himself. So by the time he realized just how ill he was, he was no longer insurable.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been tough, especially if you went from being wealthy to not so well-off in a short period of time.”

  She shrugged. “I wasn’t wealthy before I met him, and I didn’t really have time to grow accustomed to having discretionary income after we got married. So I don’t miss it all that much.” Except for the loss of her own savings, which had gotten gobbled up once Big Jim’s money was gone. That, she missed a lot, because its loss had spelled the death of a long-held dream and toppled the sense of security it had taken her years to build in the first place.