CHAPTER SEVEN
Jacine
Jersey Dys walked behind me as I caught up with the doctor at the elevator.
“Dr. Jones. I didn’t want to worry my father, but will he be all right?”
“Certainly, Miss Alexander. We’ve made big advancements in Coronary medicine that past few decades. The imaging we performed on your father displayed a small problem that time would make worse. We are hitting this ahead of the curve which can only increase the odds for a good outcome.”
“That sounds encouraging.”
“It is. You and your boyfriend have nothing to worry about.”
“Boyfriend?” she said, but the doctor’s phone rang and glanced at it.
“Never a dull moment in the ICCU. If you have any questions, call me.”
He ran off, and I puzzled over what he meant.
“Boyfriend?” I said out loud.
“He must have thought you and me are a thing,” Jersey said. He smiled a broad shit-eating grin at me.
“You?”
“Don’t look so offended. You might hurt my feelings.”
“You have no feelings to hurt, except when it comes to Cole Kane and Rory Holmes.”
“That’s a low blow. You are getting cranky like your old man. Are you hypoglycemic? Do I need to get some food into you?”
He slipped his arm around my waist and pushed the call button for the elevator. Damn, he smelled good, like smoke, moss and fresh earth.
“Hmm,” I said. “What is that cologne? I don’t recognize it.”
“It’s from my new line of men’s grooming products.”
“You? Diversify?”
“My business manager, well, ex-business manager, thought it was a good idea. But he had a friend in the business, so it was synchronicity, you know?”
More like his skanky business manager scored funding from Jersey for his friend’s business, which smacked of conflict of interest. Sometimes a big name can carry a grooming line, but not always. Lady Gaga, Justin Bieber, and Taylor Swift suffered immense fails on their perfume and cologne lines to name a few. But I had to admit this scent was sexy.
“I hope you do well with it.”
We entered the wide-door elevator together since Jersey seemed unwilling to let go of my waist. But one of my spiked heels caught momentarily in the groove between the elevator door and car, and I pitched forward into Jersey’s arms.
“I seem to be doing okay,” he said with a disarming smile.
The elevator doors closed sealing us in our own private chamber.
His strong arms held me upright, and my primal brain, where thoughts of sleep, food, and sex stirred, found the kinetic strength of his guitar playing muscles intriguing. And since my head jammed into his chest from my graceless stumble, my lungs drew in more of his sexy scent. I turned my head upward to catch his chocolate brown eyes sparkling with intent. He lowered his head ever so slightly as if to kiss me and, damn it, I wanted to taste his lips.
This was ridiculous. With salacious fantasies about my father’s best friend, and the sexy encounter with Cole Kane, how can I possibly be thinking about kissing Jersey Dys?
Face it, girl. You’ve suffered one long dry patch.
If that was what drove me to lift my face to his and let him press his lips to mine, then so be it. His lips descended slowly to my lips, and magnetic electricity filled the small space between us, drawing us closer together. Hungrily he took my mouth, like a man starving, pouring such passion in the melding of our lips that went beyond lust.
His hands strayed to the small of my back, the place that always tingled when touched and my core clenched in anticipation.
But the elevator dinged, and the metallic doors inched open threatening to reveal the outer world. Reluctantly I pushed him away.
“I really should go,” I said as I stepped off the elevator. But this time I watched where my heels went so I didn’t fall over my feet again. Two nurses got on after I exited.
“Go where?” he said. He held the door open with his hand and looked at me expectantly.
“I have work.”
“I understand that? But on the Maternity Ward?”
In shock, I saw. Indeed, the floor was Maternity, a place I never expected to see.
“Oh,” I said. Sheepishly, I stepped back onto the elevator.
“Let’s grab something to eat, and discuss your plans for our social redemption? I’m sure there are a ton of details we haven’t gone over yet.”
I remembered then that the Nyberg show was tomorrow and I haven’t done a single thing to pull that together.
“You’re right,” I said. And then I saw something in Jersey Dys’ face I hadn’t expected.
Hope.
Shit.
“Excuse me?” said one of the nurses. “Are you Jersey Dys?”
He flashed a rock star smile at her. “Yes.”
“I knew it! I knew it!” she said excitedly. “Oh my God. My daughter is going to flip when I tell her. Look, can I get a picture with you?” She pulled out her camera.
He shrugged at me apologetically. “Sure. But no posting on social media for a couple of days, okay?”
“Sure. Sure.”
Jersey posed with her, and then her and her friend.
“Can I get one of you and your girlfriend?”
“I’m not—” I started, but Jersey pulled me into his strong arms and squeezed me hard.
“Sure,” he said enthusiastically.
I stood like a deer in the headlights as the woman took the picture. He then whispered in her ear, and her eyes got wide, and she giggled like a teenager.
“Sure,” she said. She then whispered in his ear, and he grinned broadly.
“Thank you very much.”
The doors opened again, and they stepped off, giggling and star struck. Jersey leaned forward and hit the button for another floor. But I noticed it wasn’t for the first floor. No, we stopped on the fourth floor, and he pulled me along as he stepped out.
“Where are we going?”
“The nurse said there is a conference room here,” he said craning his neck to check out the sign plaques at the doors.
“Why?”
He stopped at one door and pushed it open.
“To take a critical meeting.”
Before I could protest, Jersey pulled me in, shut the door, and crushed me against it. He stared into my eyes like a man possessed.
“I have a confession to make,” he said.
“What?” My throat grew dry, and I could barely croak out the word.
“I’ve had a thing for you for a long, long time.”
“I bet you say that to all the publicists.”
“No,” he said. “Damn it, Jacine. How long have we known each other? How many pool parties with you dancing around in your bikini can a man take? Can you tell me all that time you never noticed me, never wondered what it would be like to be with me?”
Of course, I did. What girl wouldn’t? But like anyone we worked with - off limits.
“You are my client. I’m supposed to keep a professional distance. I can’t look out for your best interests if—”
“That’s your father talking, Jacine. And I’m damned tired of listening to him.”
His hips pressed into mine as his mouth descended on mine, hungry and demanding as if to prove a point. His velvet tongue teased my lips encouraging me to take him in, stealing my ability to breathe.
Jersey’s hand squeezed my breast and then fluidly my nipple between his thumb and forefinger spreading fire through my body.
This was wrong. Illicit. And so damn good I didn’t want him to stop. My hand strayed to his straining bulge. Damn, he was big, and he moaned as I stroked it through his jeans.
Without warning, he lifted me and spun me around then set me on the edge of the conference table.
“What are you doing?”
He smiled at me. “I’m hungry.”
With his arms, he threw my legs over my shoulders and then pushed the hem of my dress to my hips.
“Mmmm,” he said as he eyed my black lace panties.
His tongue was on me and around me sucking my clit through the panties, and my head fell back. He lashed and nibbled as he growled shooting a vibration through me that snaked up my spine. Then in one swift move, he yanked at the panties, literally tearing them off me with a snap. His head went between my legs again continuing his rampage, as if he was trying to claim me. His tongue found my folds and speared me, lashing back and forth.
He pulled back as I gasped, wanting and needing more.
“You taste so damn good,” he said. “I can’t get enough.”
Jersey dipped his head once more between my thighs, latched his mouth on my clit and lashed it unmercifully. I gasped and moaned while I clutched at his long, dark hair that swung wildly as he played on stage giving up his passion in song. But here he was giving his ardor to me, only me, his singular audience, and at this moment his most ardent fan, and I screamed out his name as relentless pleasure blazed through me like a fireball streaking the night.
Or I would have if someone didn’t rattle the doorknob trying to get in.
Damn if this didn't turned out to be the most frustrating day.