Chapter Twelve
JAKE
I put my ice cream down, looking straight at Natalie. She was turned sideways to me. I was making a real effort not to look down at her breasts again, but my fantasy flared up anyway. I'd suck on her nipple until she cried out my name.
"Up until seventy-two hours ago, that answer would've been easy," I said. “Jake Whitley, CEO of New York Management Consulting. But right now, it’s a mystery even to me. I've done more stuff today that’s unlike me than in the past decade. And I can only trace it back to one reason."
"And what's that?"
"You, Natalie.”
"Jake," she whispered. She put her ice cream next to mine on the bench. Her body was shaking slightly. I took both of our cups, putting them behind me.
Then I touched the back of her head, bringing her closer before claiming her mouth. I drew her lower lip between mine at first. She trembled in my arms. I kissed her long and deep, like I’d been starved for her for years. She tasted so damn good—like the ice cream and her own sweetness.
I savored her, exploring her mouth at a lazy pace. I felt something tug at my shirt and realized it was her hand. I deepened the kiss, moving her off the bench and into my lap, changing the angle. I wanted her closer. Fuck it, I wanted her to straddle me.
This was insane. I pulled back as a deep groan tore through my chest.
"I'm losing control, Natalie," I warned her. Her breath was shaking. Her shoulders too. Her mouth was insanely sexy, swollen, the skin around it red from kissing. Her pupils had dilated.
"Jake," she murmured. Then she stood up, looking around, blinking rapidly. "Oh my God! We're… we're in public. And I was straddling you."
"No, you weren't," I said, smirking. "Trust me, I had a vivid image in my brain of you doing just that. You were simply sitting in my lap.”
“I completely forgot where we were.”
“Don't be hard on yourself. So did I."
"Why did you kiss me?" she blurted.
I moved closer because I couldn't stop.
“I've been thinking about you the whole day. The whole night too. When we spoke on the phone today, I just knew I had to see you."
She swallowed hard. "Jake, my life is in shambles."
I blinked. This wasn't where I thought this conversation was leading.
"Go on."
She looked at me.
"I'm not… I can't… I can't kiss you. Well, if we’re talking… you can't kiss me."
I smiled, tilting slightly into her. I was desperate for another whiff of her perfume.
"Who's trying to boss who now?" I asked.
She laughed. "I don't think anyone can boss you into anything."
Pulling back, I realized her expression was serious. "Message received, Natalie. I won’t kiss you again."
Her breath caught. She bit her lower lip and balled her hand into a fist as if it was all she could do to not reach out and tug at my shirt again.
She was saying one thing, but her body clearly wanted something different.
She wanted me. But I wasn't going to insist, at least not tonight. This had taken both of us by surprise.
"I think I should go home."
"I’ll walk you," I offered.
She laughed. Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she stood up.
"I won't say no to that. Your gentleman skills are out of this world, as are your kissing skills."
I felt the corners of my mouth turn up into a smile. It was impossible to be around this woman and not smile. "So, kissing is out of question, but talking about it isn’t?"
She sighed. "Jake, this is all very confusing to me."
"And not talking will help?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Okay, we'll walk in silence."
She elbowed me lightly. "Not silence. That's awkward. Or at least I've always been very awkward with silences."
"I haven't."
She rolled her eyes, chuckling. "What a surprise."
"By the way, you never did ask me things about my grandmother," I said as we walked toward her street.
"You didn't seem very inclined to give a lot of opinions on the location. But maybe you’re chattier about Jeannie. What kind of food does she like?"
I frowned. "Now that you mention it, she seems more preoccupied with cooking everyone else's favorite, which is usually some sort of meat-based meal. But she likes fish, especially shrimp."
“And is she the dancing type?"
"Definitely. You do know she used to work in theater, right?"
"No." She looked stunned. "Really?"
"Yeah. She did a lot of musicals, so she's very well versed in dancing."
"Hey, that is excellent insight. I'll think about some elaborate concept for a stage there where people can dance."
"Do your parents live in Boston?" I asked her once the house was within reach.
I immediately looked around for any notes or another letter.
It bothered me that I didn't know the whole story with her ex.
She didn't mention anything about him causing trouble again, but I was on high alert.
In my experience, people like that didn't just back down.
“No." She sounded regretful. "They used to, along with my sisters. Then my sisters both went to Greece, working as receptionists for a hotel. They each fell in love and married there. My eldest sister gave birth to a girl last year. She asked Mom and Dad if they wouldn't mind moving over there to help them take care of the baby. It was all my parents needed to move. They just opened their own B&B too. They’re very happy there.”
"But you aren't."
She swallowed hard, taking out her keys.
"I’m very happy for them and for my sisters. I just miss them so much."
I had to employ all my self-restraint not to kiss her again. She sounded vulnerable and so damn adorable.
"But I talk to them every day, and, well, I fill them in on everything I do. My parents also went through some hard times in their lives, and they always pushed forward, and I learned that from them. They're proud of me."
"As they should be," I said.
This was one of the things that attracted me to her: she was a fighter.
I noticed it even at Martha's Vineyard, and I wanted to know more. I wanted to invite myself in and ask her to tell me the story behind every picture she’d hung of her family.
Her home contrasted so starkly with my suite at the Four Seasons—it was elegant but completely empty, as if my personal life was nonexistent.
On one level, I supposed that was true. But on another, it couldn’t be further from the truth. I had my grandparents and my brothers.
She walked up to the door, jingling her keys, and then abruptly stopped, laughing nervously.
"What?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing."
“Natalie,” I said solemnly, "is something wrong?"
"Why does your mind jump to trouble right away?"
"Tell me what happened."
"Nothing. I remember this movie where they said that when a woman is playing with her keys in front of her door, it’s a sign that she wants to be kissed.”
"Shall I take the hint?"
"No, no, no." She quickly unlocked her door, pushing it open. "But thanks for walking me home."
"My pleasure," I said just as she closed the door.
I'd promised not to kiss her again. I didn't say anything about getting to know her better.