Katie

If I’m not mistaken, Jack is the Big Bad Wolf and I’m Little Red Riding Hood.

Or at least that’s how I’m feeling as he saunters along behind me in the rapidly falling evening. It’s strange. One second I feel safe as houses with him. The next, I wonder if he’s deciding how best to prepare me for his supper.

I’m picturing myself trussed up like a turkey when the wind begins to kick up, sending goosebumps prickling up my arms. There’s a cardigan in my backpack but Jack is carrying the feckin’ thing and I’d have to stand there and dig it out while he holds it open in his big hands. And then I’d essentially be required to don clothing in front of him, which is basically, seriously way too close to intercourse to even consider. Slide on my cardigan under his watchful green eyes? We might as well be stretched out in my hotel bed doing the bloody business.

Where did that thought come from?

I must be jet-lagged. That’s why I’m picturing Jack above me, half of his amazing face lit by the lamp on my hotel side table. No. No no no. I can no more tell this man I’m a virgin who’s been locked in a firing range for four years than I can recite the ancient Greek alphabet. And I would have to tell him. Anything else wouldn’t be proper behavior. While I might be on a rebellious streak, I can’t set aside every ounce of politeness and Catholic guilt that has been hammered into me for years.

He could help me check an item off my Katie Conquers New York list.

As soon as I consider the notion, I discard it. Jack would chew up the likes of me and spit me out. I glance over my shoulder and find him watching me, as if chewing and spitting is exactly what he has in mind. Maybe some flambéing and glazing while he’s at it.

But then. Then he frowns at my shivering, unzips my backpack and pulls out my cardigan, holding it out for me to take. “If that’s not enough, you can have my sweatshirt.”

“Oh.” Lord does it sound lovely, the chance to be swallowed up by his rich scent, but I can’t. That would pretty much be like, double intercourse. And I’m back to being confused over whether Jack is the Big Bad Wolf . . . or a sheep in wolf’s clothing. “Ah, th-this’ll do. Thanks,” I say, taking the cardigan.

Watching me closely, he nods, before zipping the pack once more and casually tossing it over one wide shoulder. “So where did this hit go down? Talk to me, Snaps.”

“Right.” I whip the mob hit book from my back pocket, lick my index finger and flip to the correct page. “This one was more quick than brutal. It happened in broad daylight during the mid-eighties and the victim was . . .” After studying the black-and-white crime scene photo a moment, I turn and point back towards the benches. “He was found over there, single GSW to the left temple. Witnesses claim the perpetrator walked with a severe limp. Therefore, the rumor was that local baddie Frank Donahue was the shooter, but no one in the neighborhood would confirm which of the shooter’s legs was bad, putting the kibosh on that theory. And then the witnesses changed their stories altogether, probably afraid of retaliation or being called a snitch. So technically it went unsolved.”

Jack appears to be holding his laughter. “Technically?”

“Well . . .” I drop my voice to a whisper. “It wouldn’t be difficult to fake a limp if you wanted to frame someone obvious. Someone the police would already suspect. I’m just putting it out there, mind you.”

“Jesus. This is exactly why you need me with you on this little holiday in the city.”

Him be my guide? When had that subject been broached? “I don’t follow.”

“Going around, stirring up old homicide investigations. Throwing out new, dangerous theories.” He bites his bottom lip, dragging his green eyes from my feet to the tip of my head. “You need me along for the ride. I can’t have you ending up in the updated version of that book.”

A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. “And you would be willing to throw yourself into harm’s way for a mere stranger?”

Silence glimmers between us. “Yeah, I think I might.” His boots fall heavy on the asphalt as he comes closer. Close enough that I have to tip my head back. “And you won’t be a stranger too much longer, will you?”

Languid, purple—I’m guessing on the color—heat billows in my tummy, reaching down to my knees and loosening them. Feckin’ hell. It’s settled. He’s the Big Bad Wolf and while, yes, I am quite clearly attracted to Jack—who wouldn’t be?—this burning he kicks off inside me is far too bright. Too intense.

I’ve had none of the experiences most twenty-five-year-old women are meant to have at this point in their lives. There was no time after the tragedy. After my father tunneled all his focus into the Olympic trials. Maybe Jack sensed that I would be an easy conquest? Something in my gut tells me he wouldn’t do that, but damn, I don’t have the experience to be sure.

It doesn’t help that I’m suspicious by nature and I’m fascinated with true crime.

Doesn’t help whatsoever.

“Em. I don’t think a bodyguard is necessary.” Pretending to be engrossed once more in my book, I back away from the magnetic presence of Jack. “Didn’t you know people fear the wrath of the redhead? My hair protects me wherever I go.”

“Or it makes you more recognizable,” he mutters. “Is this all you plan to do while visiting? Tour old crime scenes?”

“Oh no, it’s only one item on the list.”

The second the words are out of my mouth, I know I shouldn’t have let them loose. No one knows about the list, save myself. It’s tucked into the back pages of the book in my hands, flat as a pancake and unseen by human eyes. It might as well be my diary, it’s so personal. But I know when Jack’s eyebrows lift and his devilish mouth curves, I’m not getting away without an explanation. Not without some effort. “List?”

“Shopping list. I love a good sale. Did you know that about me?”

“Try again.”

“Grocery list. I have wheat allergy so I have to stock my hotel room with food. It’s very inconvenient, but I’ve gotten used to it.”

“That was pretty good, but I’m still not convinced.” He crosses his arms. “What list?”

I clomp over to a bench and drop down onto it, noticing that the pigeon-feeding man has gone home for the day, leaving Jack and me alone in the empty, now dark, park. Even though I’ve decided he’s a wolf, I’m still not nervous for some reason. Thinking maybe I should be and my sheltered upbringing has made me less perceptive of danger, I do a quick scan behind the park’s perimeter bars, confirming there is a decent amount of foot traffic, plus one hot dog vendor I could call out to if I was in trouble.

When I return my attention to Jack, there’s a furrow between his brows, as if he knows my thoughts. “Hey. We can go somewhere more out in the open if you want, Snaps.”

The memory of him walking away, prepared to leave me outside the bar sails past. He might be seductive, but he’s not aggressive. “I’m grand. You want to sit?”

He falls onto the bench beside me like a prince draping himself over a throne, one arm stretched along the back, his fingers just shy of brushing my neck. The heat of them alone makes me shiver, along with Jack’s steady eyes. “Tell me.”

“It’s silly—” I stop myself. “No, actually, it’s not silly. I have a list of things I want to do during the two weeks I’m in New York. They’re not big, world-shattering accomplishments. It’s more for a bit of fun. I haven’t had fun in a long time.” I sense his fingertips creeping close to my nape and hurry to speak out of pure nerves. “That’s not to say you should feel sorry for me, Jack. I’m fine.”

“Okay. If you say you’re fine, I believe you.”

“Just like that?”

His middle finger slides right down the center of my neck. “Just like that.”

I feel the rich texture of his voice and that featherlight touch between my legs, but I force myself not to press my knees together, lest I give myself away. “How about we make a deal?” Jesus, I sound like I need a new set of lungs. “I’ll reveal one list item.”

“How is that a good deal for me?”

“I’ll let you come along.”

He’s strumming my neck now like a guitar, slow, slow brushes designed to drive me mad. And it’s working. His huge, warm, male presence on the bench is sucking me in, making me want to turn and crawl straight into him. “So if I agree to the deal, I only get to come along on one adventure?”

“How did you know I was calling it an adventure?”

Those dimples wink at me. “Seems like something you’d say.” He appears to be pondering the terms of the deal. “What if I hold out for the entire list? All or nothing.”

I straighten my back. I’m not sure if it’s a voluntary move or what, but he’s now cupping my nape, sliding his thumb through my hair and I can barely breathe. “Didn’t you learn anything from your plaque story? When you wish for too much, a manhole comes along and swallows you up.”

He expels a harsh breath. “Christ, you’re fucking cute, Katie. How long am I supposed to pretend I don’t want to kiss the shit out of you on this bench?”

My knees snap together to block the bolt of lightning that blows up both thighs. “Th-this is you pretending? Really? With the whole thumb massage thing?”

“You don’t know the half of it, Snaps.” His laughter is pained as he stands, pacing away. My neck feels achingly cold without his hand. “Fine. You have a deal. One item on the list and I get to be there. Sold. For now.”

“For now?”

Jack inclines his head. “You might decide to tell me more at a later date.”

“Is this the part where you tell me you can be very persuasive?”

He crooks a finger at me. “If you’re going to put words in my mouth, honey, at least be nice and use your tongue.”

I shoot to my feet. “I’m way out of my league here.”

“Shit, Katie. Wait.” His burrows his fingers through the short ends of his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m the one out of his league. Most girls aren’t interested in having a heart-to-heart with me on a park bench, all right? I don’t know what you expect from me.”

“I hadn’t gotten round to expecting anything just yet.”

“Don’t go. Just . . . don’t go.” He drops his hands slowly, as if trying to will me back into a sitting position, but my heart is pinging all over the place and I’m . . . I’m thinking of doing a legger. Just juking left to throw him off, then sprinting straight out of the park. I thought I understood how hypnotic and overtly sexual Jack is. But right up until he told me to come over and use my tongue, I was underestimating him. I only met this man a half-hour ago and I want him to throw me down and make a harlot out of me. And for someone who felt guilty over her own private fantasy about the Tonga torchbearer in Rio, it’s a lot at once. A lot.

He could tease me for being a virgin. Once we get the general hilarity out of the way, I could disappoint him. I could . . . yeah, I could start to like him. Maybe I already do. But he has to have a million options for companionship at his disposal and that’s far too intimidating for me.

“Thanks for coming with me to the park, Jack . . .” I pick my backpack up off the bench. “But I have to go.”

“Fuck. I really blew it, huh? You’re just going to go.”

I think it’s the hollow tone of his voice that propels me to blurt, “I’m going to dance in Cherry Hill Fountain in Central Park. Tomorrow night.”

He’s very still and somewhere in the distance a horn begins to blare. The universe telling me I’ve made the right decision sharing my plans? I guess I’ll find out. “You can get arrested for that.”

“Then I suppose I could do with a lookout.” There we go. I’ve lost the plot. The plot vanishes from sight completely when Jack’s upset expression is cracked open by a mile-wide, slightly piratical smile . . . and my pulse flies on butterfly wings up to my throat. “I’ll see you then.”

“One kiss.” He takes a step forwards, his big chest rising and falling. “I know I’m pushing it, Snaps. But I’m dying over here.”

I’m dying, too. No denying it. This attraction is very bad for my mental and physical health. He probably won’t even show up tomorrow night. His romantic comedy costar will distract him with an invitation to eat grapes on a sun-drenched rooftop somewhere and I . . . I could never get another chance to kiss this outrageously beautiful man. This trip to New York isn’t only a career opportunity, it’s a chance to shake off my comfort zone.

Do it, Katie. Don’t regret it. Don’t be a coward.

What’s the worst that could happen?

“Just one, then,” I whisper.

His green eyes go molten as he takes two big strides and swoops in. I hear my backpack hit the ground and then nothing, nothing, but Jack’s mouth has any part of my focus.

What’s the worst that could happen?

He could kiss like my taste will set him free. And that’s exactly what he does. One giant hand cups the back of my head, the other resting on my cheek. He tilts me so gently, I don’t expect the ravenous sweep of his tongue, smooth and wicked. The power of it knocks me back a step. Jack follows, towering over me, groaning into my mouth, taking, absorbing, demanding more. Holding me right where he wants me, his firm lips slanting and slanting. He’s the Big Bad Wolf and I’m the meal he’s snared in his trap. Only, I’m not sitting there taking it like good prey. After the initial shock of sensations, I willingly drown in them.

My hands twist in the front of his sweatshirt, my back bowing by primitive demand and he counters me perfectly, giving me his hard lap to cushion my softness. His rough exhalation shakes out into my mouth when our lower bodies meld on a single grind, his eyebrows slashing down as though he’s in pain.

“One more, Katie. One more, one more, one—”

I yank him back down, cutting him off with my waiting kiss and his hands, they become these sweeping sources of hot want, dragging down my sides, clutching my hips and pulling me up onto my toes, sliding me side to side against his large arousal. There’s nothing gentle about the way he’s kissing me now and I imagine this is what he does with his mouth while thrusting into a woman. Just overwhelms her senses until she’s a mass of lust and urgency, letting him have her in any manner he deems suitable.

And I was worried about putting on my cardigan in front of him.

Maybe it’s ridiculous—maybe I’m ridiculous—but that’s the thought that forces me to break away, sucking in deep gulps of chilling night air. Jack’s forehead is pressed to mine, twisting side to side like he’s shaking his head. Or in denial. I don’t know.

Somehow I find the strength to extricate myself from his hold, stooping down to pick up my bag. “Just so we’re keeping count,” I manage, breathily, “That w-was two kisses. Never say I wasn’t generous with you.”

His green eyes cut towards me and I read determination there. A lot of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Snaps. Don’t you dare doubt me on that.”

I nod, the heat of his body reaching out to grab me as I pass towards the park’s exit. The entire way to hail a cab, I feel his eyes burning into my back. And I wonder how the heck I’m going to check off the mad love affair on my list with Jack nosing about, giving me kisses like that.