Sensual Secrets. Jo Leigh

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СКАЧАТЬ toward her. She tried not to look at him, but she knew it was a useless struggle. He wouldn’t leave until she met his gaze. Why? Why did he do this to her? He had to see that it embarrassed the dickens out of her. She felt herself turn three shades of scarlet. Did he enjoy the power? The way she squirmed?

      And why, oh why, did she keep coming back here, day after day? And please, would someone explain why her heart sank if he didn’t show up?

      Another brief stab at resistance, then she gave it up. She focused on his chest first. His jacket. Then her gaze climbed slowly to his neck, the squared jaw.

      She exhaled a breath she hadn’t remembered holding. Then she stopped breathing altogether when her gaze moved those last few inches.

      He locked on to her the moment she was in range. Like a heat-seeking missile, he wouldn’t let her go now until he’d had his fun. His right brow arched with wry amusement, as if she were quaint, as if she were a child. His lips curved into the tiniest of smiles. But it was the challenge in his eyes that made her insides turn to mush.

      They’d never spoken. She never had the nerve. But for weeks now, he’d played this game with her. Daring her. Inviting her.

      A part of her wanted to meet the challenge. To walk up to him and kiss him, right here in the middle of the café with the music blaring and the rich scent of strong coffee in the air. Boy, that would wipe that smug smile away. It would be so great.

      Unfortunately, she was a chicken. A big, fat, yellow chicken. Her cheeks burned hotter, and she forced her gaze back to her monitor. He’d won. Again. She sighed when he chuckled. Just like he had yesterday, and the day before.

      She focused on the screen. The words she’d written moments ago seemed unfamiliar and disconnected. A paper due in four days. She saved the file to disk, then, with shaky fingers, typed the Web address for TrueConfessions.com. The familiar page filled the monitor screen as she logged in, using her screen name. Good Girl.

      She winced at her propensity to tell it like it was, even when the truth was as boring as a cable-knit sweater. She was, indeed, a good girl. At twenty-four and a graduate student at NYU, she was an anomaly. A throwback to the days when girls got pinned and went steady. Only, she had no one in her life with whom to do either of those things, not to mention anything racier.

      At the thought, she raised her head, only to see Jay still standing right in front of her. Closer now. Her face heated instantly as she realized her mistake. He’d always wandered off when she’d hidden behind work. But this time he’d stayed to stare, his gaze so intense that she wriggled in her seat.

      He took a step toward her, and her heart reacted by pounding in her chest. When he took another, she forgot how to breathe. Oh God. He kept on coming, his boots clicking softly on the hardwood floor.

      He reached the side of the table. Everything in her told her to run, to hide, at the very least to duck. But she sat perfectly still, her head back as she looked up at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

      He smiled. Not a big grin. A slight upward curve of his lips. Then his hand lifted and she nearly died. He was going to touch her. Pet her cheek. Only, his hand stopped inches away, then withdrew. She burned with embarrassment at his retreat, sure she would burst into flames any second.

      His low chuckle made things infinitely worse. Perhaps sensing that she was going to pass out, his gaze shifted to her computer screen. She took advantage of the situation and gasped in a lungful of air.

      “Good Girl,” he whispered.

      Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

      He chuckled again, the sound deep and sexy. Mercifully, he walked past her, heading toward his buddy Brian at the coffee bar.

      She closed her eyes as she struggled to get her pulse to slow and her breath to normalize. He’d spoken to her. Directly. Oh God.

      Despite the fact that he’d looked at her before, made her blush, she’d always felt invisible. She was, most of the time. In class. Around her gorgeous roommates. At the student lounge. People bumped into her all the time. They just didn’t notice her, that’s all.

      But he’d spoken to her.

      Her gaze darted to the girl across the way. Just as Amelia figured, the girl seemed upset. Jealous. Of her. Not that she wanted the blonde to feel bad…

      Okay, so she did.

      Amelia turned back to her computer. She’d paid for two hours, and she only had fifteen minutes left. Typing furiously, she tried to capture it all. The moment, the excitement, his whisper, the scent of leather. It poured out of her, and she didn’t even go back to correct the misspelled words.

      But at the end, when it was all out there, her bubble burst. He might have noticed her. How could he help it? She was here all the time. And she blushed so hard she could stop traffic. He’d just been messing with her, that’s all. Teasing. Which was such a shame. Such a heartbreak. Her aunt Grace used to tell her that no one ever died from being shy, but Amelia wasn’t sure. People did die of loneliness. Of yearning.

      The truth of the matter was that the Amelia she was on the inside was nothing like the person she was on the outside. She dressed more conservatively than was fashionable; her skirts were longer, her blouses looser. She wore her hair pulled back, most of the time in a bun, and her hair was her biggest vanity.

      She’d grown used to being invisible. It was easier that way. No one expected anything much. Only…

      She paused. Sighed. The woman I am inside isn’t shy. She’s brazen and erotic and she dresses in sexy clothes and she feels beautiful, she typed.

      Amelia closed her eyes, letting her fingers work on the keyboard she knew so well.

      If only someone could see how I ache for a touch. How I yearn to be set on fire by a kiss. If only he knew how I dreamed of him. How I longed for him to take me to the heights of ecstasy. Oh, who am I kidding? I want him to make love to me until we both die of starvation. I want him to do anything, everything. I want to go crazy, and stay crazy, with him.

      The buzzer on her computer went off, and she didn’t have the time or cash to extend her stay. She saved her journal, then she logged off the confession Web site. Moving as quietly and efficiently as she could, she collected her belongings, stood up and hurried outside, never once looking behind her to see if Jay noticed—but blushing all the same.

      JAY WAITED while Brian poured a cup of coffee for a customer—another student. The place wasn’t large or fancy, and it didn’t have the Starbucks chairs or upscale coffee paraphernalia. But it did have six workstations, all linked to the Internet by high-speed, high-bandwidth T1 connections, which meant instant and immediate access to research material. And porn.

      The decor owed more to sixties rock than good taste. Posters of Hendrix, Janis Joplin, The Grateful Dead were tacked on the odd wall, and Rolling Stone magazine was always available. Brian, who must have been a hippie in his past life, played current top-twenty songs, but only because he had to. Curious, Jay thought, that Brian had opened such a high-tech business. But Jay had to give it to him. Brian had made the café a success. At thirty-two, Brian made a mean pot of coffee, and he could hack into almost any computer system around. He made sure his customers were happy. It was a lesson Jay had taken to heart when he’d opened his Harley shop next door.

      Brian finished up with his customer, and Jay gave СКАЧАТЬ