CHAPTER 9
Claire gripped the edges of her seat, barely able to keep her eyes open as the neon green Lamborghini roadster zoomed down Florida’s Turnpike.
The wind whipped her hair wildly, making her understand why, in all those classic movies her mom enjoyed, the women in convertibles wore babushka-style scarves.
The engine’s loud buzz made conversation impossible.
Not that she could even think of anything to say as Jake steered the car to dart in and out of the light traffic.
She gritted her teeth and glanced at the speedometer.
He had passed eighty-five miles an hour in a seventy and still accelerated.
If he meant to impress her with this speed machine, he had succeeded, but not in a good way.
On the bright side, at this rate, she would be home shortly, and all she wanted was some time by herself to think.
Had Jake found Ian’s card and tossed it? Would he be so deceitful? Or had the card simply fallen out?
Hopefully, Mom would be asleep and not up waiting, wanting the play-by-play of this date. There was one thing she absolutely couldn’t tell her about: the balcony interlude with Ian.
“Great, isn’t she?” Jake yelled above the rumble of the engine. He looked over at her for longer than she was comfortable.
“Yes! Eyes on the road, Dr. Lang!” she said, earning his wide grin.
“Trust me, I’m a doctor.”
The man hadn’t been drinking, thank God, but he was drunk on speed. Where was a trooper when you needed one?
“There is no bigger rush. Sends your senses into overdrive!”
If she wanted that, she would have gone to ride the Mako at SeaWorld. At least there, things were carefully controlled.
By the time they reached her mother’s neighborhood, Claire had so much adrenaline in her system that she felt queasy. At least he was obeying the speed limit now, she thought, trying to rearrange her hair into some semblance of order.
The Lamborghini growled down the gravel road, ridiculously out of place in this modest trailer park, where single-wides were lined up close together, sporting older cars and trucks in the open carports.
She could tell Jake was scoping the street, but if he had any negative reaction, she couldn’t see it.
“Which way?” His fingers drummed on the steering wheel as if driving so slowly made him antsy.
“Take a left at the end of this road.”
He nodded.
Soon, he pulled up in front of her mother’s little home. The moon was high, the scent of jasmine hung heavy in the humid air, and frogs noisily announced their presence in the nearby pond.
Jake cut the engine but made no move to exit the car. Claire reached for the handle.
There was none.
“I had a good time this evening,” he said, running his hands along the wheel. “Did you?”
The truth was, she had been bored silly and had been ready to go home less than an hour into it.
“I did.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. One part of this evening had been exhilarating.
He chuckled. “Liar.”
Claire felt her muscles tense. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, she felt Jake’s hand on her knee.
“I should have realized a table full of my colleagues and their significant others would be tedious to you.” His hand inched a little higher toward the hem of her dress. “I apologize for that. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“No, really, it was fine.” What wasn’t fine was where his hand was going.
She gave him a hard finger flick. He hastily took his hand away.
“I enjoyed meeting them and some of the women, too,” she said.
“That’s a polite way to say a couple of those were vapid trophy wives. You’re nothing like them. Which is one reason I was drawn to you the first time I saw you on that plane.”
This conversation was getting uncomfortable. She scrutinized the door panel but still didn’t see a handle or any way to open it. This was one car that was unfamiliar to her.
He did something she couldn’t see, and the driver side door slowly glided upward and pivoted.
“Scissor doors.” He grinned. “Cool, huh?”
She looked at the panel, now raised vertically and pointing skyward as if giving the entire trailer park the finger.
“Very nice.” She waited, but hers remained firmly closed.
“So are you, Claire.” He turned toward her. “Very, very nice.” Slowly, he leaned in, stopping an inch away. “Is this OK?”
He was asking for permission.
Ian’s swift, unapologetic possession flashed through her mind, and her breath quickened at the mere thought of how he simply took her when he wanted. Knowing she wanted it too.
She blinked, noting that all she felt right now was Jake’s minty breath fanning her jaw.
That was all. Nothing else. No crazy rush. No little sparklers pinwheeling through her. The only reason she was close to panting was because thoughts of how Ian kissed refused to leave her mind.
There was nothing unattractive about Jake Lang. Why, then, wasn’t she attracted?
She needed to see if she could be. Placing her hand on Jake’s cheek, she nodded, then closed the space, pressing her lips to his.
He’s wrong for you.
She almost gasped, so clearly did she hear Ian’s deep voice in her mind at the first brush of Jake’s mouth. But she went ahead with it. Jake was everything her mother had always wanted for her. This was what she’d wanted too—someone safe.
Someone who she wouldn’t be crushed to lose when the inevitable happened.
But as she allowed Jake to gently kiss her, her mind stubbornly envisioned Ian and the way his mere presence overwhelmed her senses, setting her body aflame.
Jake’s tongue slid along the seam of her lips, seeking entrance.
She tried to push away the thoughts of Ian.
It didn’t work.
It was Jake she pushed away.