Chapter Two
Holy shit.
Evangeline had promised a lovely woman—but she never hinted she’d be sending Malibu Barbie. In a split second, Jackson’s brain registered every perfect detail of the living doll—from the long, blonde hair, perky breasts and hour-glass waist, to the tanned legs he had no problem picturing wrapped around his ass while he…yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
But damn, the image couldn’t be more pleasant.
Robin’s-egg blue eyes, open so wide the whites showed, stared up at him. Way up at him—hell, the woman took petite to a whole new level. Typically, he preferred his woman tall enough so a stepladder wasn’t necessary to kiss him…but what did it matter when you were horizontal…not that horizontal was going to happen. But still….
He cleared his throat. “Hello, Leah.”
She nodded and backed up to let him pass. “You must be Jackson. Please come in.”
Entering the room, he scanned it, noting the amenities with approval. Per his request, housekeeping had taken extra care with it, and made certain Juan, his club manager, stocked the mini-bar to his exact specifications. Or rather, Jackson had noted Leah’s preferences on the profile Eve had emailed him—crisp Argentinean Riesling—served chilled.
Stopping in the middle of the room, he watched while Leah locked the door and flipped the security bar. Used to making lightning-quick observations in his business dealings, he noted the slight tremble of her fingers. Interesting. She’d initiated this one-night stand, paid for the privilege, so she obviously didn’t have a problem with the idea of screwing a stranger. But when she turned toward him, her expression of both determination and fragility surprised him.
Her gaze traveled over him, brief but thorough, and he didn’t miss the extra millisecond of consideration she’d given his crotch. Too bad she wouldn’t be getting up close and personal with it. His cock hardened in hopeful response anyway.
She met his eyes and blushed, the pink spreading in a lovely rush across her cheekbones. “Thank you for coming.” A dainty, nervous hand toyed with a single strand of tiny pearls resting at the base of her neck.
Jackson gestured toward the small sitting area near the window. “Why don’t we sit down?”
It was then he noticed her bare feet, small like the rest of her, with cotton-candy-pink toenails. She glided gracefully to the chair and once settled, perched on the edge of it, as if poised to take flight. He frowned, and an uncharacteristic, protective urge took over. As much as he didn’t agree with her reason for taking advantage of Madame Eve’s services, he also didn’t want Leah to regret it—or worse, be frightened of him. If what Eve told him was true, Leah’s last year had been nothing short of tragic. Worse—she wore loneliness like a badge.
***
Dear God.
The man possessed the same hot-as-sin sensuality Mark had. Tall frame, jet black hair, smooth olive skin, even the same almond-shaped, dark brown eyes. But the similarities ended there. Mark’s aura always carried a certain level of passive, yet attractively sensual boy-next-door. With that sweet but sexy aura, women gravitated toward him.
Without a doubt, women gravitated toward Jackson as well. But he exuded dangerous, bad-boy virility and a touch of anger. He doesn’t want to be here. How puzzling. All suave and sophisticated, he definitely didn’t strike her as a man easily forced or persuaded to do something he didn’t want to do. So why had he agreed?
With her blood pressure rising into the red zone, she forced a bland expression and inched until her butt met the cushioned back of the chair.
“Thanks for coming,” she said, her tongue suddenly too large for her mouth.
“You already thanked me.” He grinned, the sincere smile reaching his eyes, and causing her heart to do a funny pitter-pat. “But, you’re welcome.”
Instead of sitting down in the chair across from her, he strode over to the bar, pulled a bottle of wine out of a sterling silver ice bucket, and poured two glasses. He handed her one, then lifted his in a toast. “To new friends.”
In a daze, she lifted the goblet to his and the crystal sang a lovely, rich chime. The first sip of the fragrant, chilled wine surprised her. “This is wonderful. I love a good Riesling.”
“I know.” The corner of his mouth lifted as he admitted, “You mentioned it in your profile.”
It impressed her more than she cared to admit that he’d noticed, let alone bothered to plan ahead and arrange to have hotel management place the wine in their room. The idea never would’ve occurred to Mark to be so organized, or thoughtful of oth—
Put him out of your head, Leah. Tonight is about moving ahead, not dwelling on the past.
She cleared her throat, and peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “It’s been so long since I filled out that profile, I don’t really recall much of what I wrote.” Liar. You agonized over every word. And you looked it over again this morning.
Jackson met her eyes over the rim of his glass, and for a split second, she had the very real sensation he’d read her thoughts, and concluded she’d lied. “I remember it well. You said you liked to travel, and you’ve been all over the world. You were the only girl on the boys’ surf team in high school.” He swirled the wine in his glass for a moment, watching the movement of the liquid. “You eat your vegetables, and you like your steak rare. And, if I recall, you have a particular fondness for cats, but you travel too much for business so you can’t have one right now.”
Wow. He’d paid attention, almost memorized the personal information in her profile. Madame Eve required an extremely detailed questionnaire, as well as a background check to protect both clients she brought together. But while she used that information to find the best matches for the clients, she also kept most of the information on the questionnaire confidential, revealing only the basics to the couple, including interesting tidbits giving insight into the individual personalities of the partners. Beyond those basics, according to 1NightStand’s FAQ page, what partners chose to divulge to each other was up to them.
“You know, Leah…” began the very handsome Jackson as he settled across from her, “Madame Evangeline explained the reason for your…desire for an evening like this.”
So much for putting my dead fiancé out of my head. Leah lifted the fine crystal stemware to her lips, buying time before she replied. “Really. What did she say, exactly?” Oh, God. Here comes the pitying glance and soft apology over her loss. She didn’t think she could stomach even one more condescending mention of Mark’s death. Nobody felt comfortable discussing it, but that never stopped them from trying, which usually compelled her to try and make them feel better instead.
Jackson’s steady gaze locked on hers. “Your fiancé is dead. You need some closure in order to move on, and you think sleeping with a look-alike will do the trick.”
She froze. And suddenly missed the pity, apologies and condescension she’d expected. Where did he get off, putting her need to move on in such crass terms? And what did he care anyway? He knew what her deal was, it still hadn’t stopped him from showing up. Opening her mouth to tell him to shove the evening up his undeniably attractive ass, she stopped short when he slid to the edge of his seat.
“Losing someone you love is never easy, but it does get easier to bear. With time.”
The sincerity in his voice wasn’t feigned and though she’d heard the same words a hundred times or more since Mark’s death, hearing them from a stranger who had no reason to say them other than he actually meant them took the wind out of her sails. Especially when his dark eyes conveyed more than mere sympathy. He understood exactly what she’d experienced.
“You’ve been through it, too.”
He nodded. “I lost someone important to me a few years ago.” That was it, no further explanation forthcoming and no more words needed. He’d experienced the denial, the anger, the struggle to accept what was out of his control.
“Then maybe you can understand that people need to come to terms with their loss in their own way.” His eyes narrowed at the words but he didn’t look away. The butterflies took flight again. “This is how I choose to do it, Jackson. Moving on requires me to leave everything I had with Mark behind. And in order to do that, I need to make new memories to replace the old.”
Jackson reached across and took the glass from her hand, setting it on the table beside her chair. Leaning in, he cupped her nape and drew her forward until his lips hovered a fraction from hers. “You’re certain this is what you want?”
He had the most incredible eyes, long black lashes framing them, but not too long. His smooth skin had the merest hint of stubble and up close, the scent of an expensive cologne lingered. He’d shaved very recently and the thought made her curiously happy knowing he’d probably prepared for their date as much as she had. Well, maybe not as much. She doubted he had eight different items of discarded clothing strewn across his bed at home.
Regardless, this stranger stirred emotions in her she hadn’t experienced in a long time—excitement and lust. It felt marvelous. And so normal.
She stared at his sensual lips, the lower being a bit fuller. Tipping her head a fraction, she leaned in to touch her lips to his. He allowed her to take control of the kiss, and she appreciated his sensitivity. Lord, he smelled good and tasted even better. Reaching up, she placed a palm on his shoulder. Staring into his dark eyes, she smiled. “Yes, Jackson. This is definitely what I want.”