The cordless phone dropped from Keely’s hand and clattered to the floor.
Drop-dead handsome Jack stood on the other side of the threshold. He slid his phone from his ear and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket.
I am so busted, Keely thought sickly as he looked her up and down and saw more than her tent- sized dress.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Keely shook her head wildly. “No!” and went to shut the door. If he came in, he’d see everything else, including what was on display on the table in her breakfast nook.
He stuck his shoe out, stopping the door’s progress. Keely didn’t resist. He was coming in come hell or high-water!
He stepped inside, and his presence filled the room with power and a slow burn of anger as he looked around, before his grim blue gaze rested on her.
She bit her lip, heart pounding in her chest.
“Are you trying to make me crazy?”
“No. Never! Mr. Sloane, I can explain—”
“Damn straight you will! And you can start by losing the Mr. Sloane bit.” He swung around, saying nothing as he studied her home, the pictures on the wall, the gallery-class oil paintings in the living room.
He paused at photographs with her in them; her arm slung around the shoulders of family or friends—grinning, laughing—with her brown-gold
hair hanging down her bare, sexy shoulders.
“Hmm, no sperm-sterilizing glasses on your face,” he observed, moving on into the kitchen. “I don’t like being deceived, Keely. I don’t like liars, and I don’t take kindly to being made a fool of…”
Keely nearly fainted when he spotted the vase of roses he’d given Lei and came to a stop at the table holding them. He shook his head, plucked a plum- blue rose from the bunch, brought it to his nose, and sniffed it. “You have some ‘splaining to do, Lucy…”
Being put on the spot was killing her, but she had no one else to blame but herself. “I’ll explain, Jack, but will you listen?”
“Who’s talking? Keely or Lei?”
Smart-ass. She folded her arms across her chest, tamping down her nipples that protruded like little buttons as her senses responded to everything about him. He looked good, and he smelled good.
“I’m listening,” he prompted, arching a brow.
She sank against a nearby wall for support. “A year and a half ago, I had a great job managing the Pandanus Hotel. My boss, Rupert Lipscomb, was having an affair, and no one could figure out who the other woman was. Somehow, because I spent a lot of time with him, people thought the other woman was me.”
Jack’s gaze narrowed. “I know Rupert Lipscomb.
Many women find him attractive. Not you?”
“No!” Keely stared at him. “He’s married, and he’s not my type.”
“What is your type?”
Keely gulped, unable to take her eyes off of him—his tousled hair, eyes that hinted at things he’d like to do to her, his hard mouth that could give her the softest kisses.
She cleared her throat and shifted her legs, feeling the friction in her swelling pussy that ached- just ached-to feel his cock slip deep inside her.
You’re my type, she wanted to tell him, but didn’t, and simply plotted the ways that she could show him later, if given the chance.
“So then,” she said, flushing from the combination of nerves and arousal, “Mrs. Lipscomb spread rumors that I was having sex with guests in their rooms and got me fired. I got another job at another hotel. She found out where I was working, I lasted a week. And so it went until I got this job at the Island Lily.”
“Has Mrs. Lipscomb tracked you down yet?”
Keely shook her head. “Since I manage the personnel charts, I can control any information given out about me. And that is where this disguise came in—just in case she asked the staff. How I look now wouldn’t fit her description of the way I normally look, Jack.”
He pushed his jacket aside and hiked a hand over his hip. His other hand, still clutching the rose, now rested knuckles down on the table. His warm gaze slid along her features. “Like a raving beauty.”
She shook her head. “Like a polished professional,” she clarified, flattered just the same that he thought of her that way. “I-I just wanted a job where I would be safe from Tayra Lipscomb and her connections; where people didn’t smirk in my face. Or try to hit on me because they thought I was easy. I suppose you’re going to fire me now, too,” she added and fought her bitterness by looking away.
“I just might have to,” he said. “Sleeping with
your supervisor goes against corporate policy. But right now, I’d like to address some things.” He withdrew her note from his pocket.
Keely tensed. Oh no. He couldn’t…he wouldn’t… “That is if Lei even has the guts to talk to me.”
His gaze didn’t waver.
“I wrote what I believed was true.”
He arched a brow and raised the letter, flipping it open with the flick of his wrist. “Dear Jack,” he read, “I didn’t want to go without first thanking you for the lovely flowers, the delicious meal, and the very special night that followed…” he paused to torment her by saying, “I’m glad you thought the night was special, Keely.”
She shook her head and pleaded. “Why would you be so cruel and read it out loud? I know what I wrote—”
“With regret,” he ruthlessly read, “I must withdraw my job application as well. I’m sure you understand that I couldn’t now take a job after last night. While it’s been exciting, I have no intention of a repeat performance. I’m glad to have shared a dream night with a man such as you, one who understands sexual attraction and can walk away satisfied without the need to connect with their partner on a deeper level.”
Oh my God, Keely thought, how could I have written that?
“We’re both adults and know how to give and receive pleasure. I hope I’ve satisfied you as much as you’ve satisfied me, so I am just going to leave it at that. I wish you well and, should we pass each other on the street, I hope we can greet each other like friends. Sincerely, Lei.”
His turned-down mouth and stern eyes showed his disapproval. He set the note on the table, next to the rose he’d just set aside as well.
Her turn. She thought she was ready. After all, she’d written the note to serve two purposes—to give him a taste of his own medicine, and to break free of his sexual spell once and for all.
Yet somehow he—Mr. Love ‘em and leave ‘em— was making her feel really, really bad.
Until he asked, “How long did it take you to write that rubbish, Keely?”
“Rubbish?” Keely stared back at him, her body aching with the memory of leaving him in the early morning hours. How she’d longed to stay wrapped up in his arms. How it pained her to write the words that meant the end of the sensual, short road she’d taken with Jack as Lei, and the end of her job—a job she loved but couldn’t truly be herself.
Her eyes blurred with frustration behind her glasses as she remembered times when she’d mentally recited all the things she’d love to tell him about his selfish, bratty self given the chance, given immunity, of which she had none when it came to him.
But since she was about to give him her two weeks’ notice, along with everything else that mattered to her, what could he do? Fire her?
“Rubbish?” she repeated, fighting to tone down the shrill in her voice. “I’ll give you rubbish, Jack Sloane! Does it ever bother you that women only want you for your money? Your connections? Your…looks?” she blurted grudgingly before snapping, “Not that you care, since you only ever want one thing from them!”