Page 45 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

Especially as I catch a subtle whiff of his cologne and a sharp tug of attraction hits me. I wish I could say that the attraction is just biological and aimed at the fantastic body I know lives under his clothes, because that would imply that I can turn this feeling off when he opens his mouth. But it’s not like that anymore. The more I get to know Jack…the more I…God help me—like him.

“You should enter a power-walking competition,” Jack says, breaking through my inner monologue and alerting me to the fact that I’ve been storming down the sidewalk. “Normally I’m happy to keep up, but this leather isn’t as breathable as you might think and if we keep it up, there will be armpit chafing.”

I press my lips together. “You wouldn’t have to worry about chafing if you just drove a normal vehicle like us intelligent individuals.”

“You really think it’s a good time to piss off the man who’scurrently helping you get your dirty novel back before anyone reads it? In fact, I think I’ve changed my mind. You can handle it on your own, Goldie.” He pivots and starts strolling back toward his bike.

I shouldn’t be so desperate. Shouldn’t lay my hand of cards flat on the table for him to blatantly see, but as I watch him retreat with the echo of that cute nickname floating on the wind, I don’t even have time to stop myself from reacting. I lurch forward and grab his bicep. “Jack. Don’t you dare leave me alone with Marissa today.”

He’s still walking and I’m holding on to his arm as he drags me with him. The rubber soles on the bottoms of my sneakers are melting from the friction. I’m basically land skiing. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like you want me here all that much.”

It’s sarcasm dripping off his voice. Mischief painted on his smile, thick as honey. He wants me to play. But I rarely play. Don’t even really know how. “Jack, stop. Tell me what to say. I’ll say it.”

He stops and turns his body sharply into mine, looking down into my face. I don’t let go of his arm, so I can only imagine what sort of image we’re portraying at the moment. And I can’t bring myself to care as his smiling eyes look at my mouth. “I want to hear you say you want me here.” My stomach drops. “If I’m going to help you, I don’t want to do it under false pretenses. We’re both too blunt for that anyway. If I’m going to help you—the most capable woman I know—I want to hear you say it’s because you want me here with you.”

“Why?”

He shrugs and I feel the muscles in his arm move. “Because I’m selfish. Because I’m a prick. Because I delight in throwing you off balance. Pick any reason you want, the why is not important. If you want me here, you’re gonna have to say it.”

I hate him.I hate him for putting me under a microscope like this when all I want is to hide. I hate him for seeing that I do wanthim here. That I need a friend right now and don’t want to have to do this alone, and that I don’t just want any friend, I wanthisfriendship.

His smiling amber eyes are my target. “Jack…Don’t go. I want you here.”

I expect to see his smug smile, but something else wars in his expression instead. Maybe he didn’t anticipate me actually saying it. Or it being true.

I only get to internally revel in knocking him off kilter for all of four heartbeats before he’s recovering with a devastating smile. He steps forward and angles his mouth at my ear—instinctively, my hand tightens around his arm. He drops his voice and whispers, “Good, now sayplease.”

He’s already laughing as I shove him away. “Jack, will youpleasego step out in front of a moving bus? That would be so nice of you.”

I barely get my own laugh out before we’re interrupted.

“Jack. What are you doing here?” Our laughter immediately dies off and we both turn and find Marissa standing in the parking lot, her purse slung over the shoulder of her leopard print T-shirt and a lunch box in hand.

“Marissa!” Jack says, turning on the charm. “Just the woman I’m here to see.”

“Me?” Her blue eyes are huge.

“Yep. I think I left my favorite jacket in Bart’s office. I was hoping you could unlock the door for me so I can look.”

She looks hopeful and far too eager to do Jack’s bidding until she swings her gaze to me. “Then why isshehere?”

Marissa saidshelike I’m the devil spawn from hell right at her front door. I’d like to be. Some nights I dream of horrendous things I could say to this woman. From my first day of working here when I organized the supply closet on my lunch break, she’s made it her mission to remind me thatI’m not as special as I think I am,and thatI better not try to overstep her.Maybe if her attitude was only aimed at me, I’d shrug it off. But she’s like this with all of the teachers (except Jack). So naturally, I overstep her every chance I can get.

Bart keeps her around as his muscle because he doesn’t have a backbone. He delegates each of his confrontational tasks to Marissa—which means after he reads my spicy novel, she’ll be the one to fire me.

I’m just about to open my mouth and tell Marissa just how sick of her attitude I really am, but Jack cuts in first. “I found her walking along the side of the road with her thumb up and a sad sign about losing all her money gambling in Vegas so I decided to give her a lift.”

I glare at him and he winks. And to his credit, the hostile energy in the air dissipates. This is why Jack is so easily loved by everyone. He has this uncanny ability to say exactly the right thing when it needs to be said. I usually go for saying the wrong thing and watching the room explode.

Marissa begins walking toward the front door. “You sure she’s not here to corner me about some brilliant idea she has?”

Jack falls in step beside me as we follow Marissa. I narrow my eyes at her back, hoping lasers might shoot out. Jack taps the back of my hand with his and like a miracle elixir my anger fades. A new sensation grows in its place.

I force a smile. “I promise, no brilliant ideas here.”

Marissa grunts.Like a cavewoman.“ ’Bout time you realize that.”

Oh, that’s it. I’m going to—

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