The Summer of Jake Read online

  “I didn’t think you’d like it, it’s an acquired taste, but I wanted to cover a variety. Here, I’ll tip it down the sink and get the next one.” I finished my own glass and swapped the remaining Semillon for the Chardonnay. “You should eat something to cleanse your palate first. Do you want any more Italian, or maybe some crackers?”

  He grimaced. “Anything to get rid of that taste.”

  I brought a packet of crackers back to the table and offered him one. He took it, brushing my fingers as he did. I felt a jolt at the touch, and my breath caught.

  And then I realized I was a smidgeon tipsy. Suddenly, the flaw in this plan was glaringly obvious. What if I lost control and poor Jake had to peel a drunk woman from his body? And I had a suspicion that once I let my guard down, it’d be pretty hard to peel me off any part of Jake.

  I shook my head and focused on the wine. “This is a Chardonnay, which is also dry but not as dry as the first one.”

  “This time, you have to make the toast, since I made the last one.” He lifted his glass, waiting.

  My gaze was glued to his mouth, waiting to watch him taste his wine, waiting to see his lips move on the glass, and his Adam’s apple bob smoothly up then down as he swallowed.

  “There’s nothing I want to make a toast to,” I managed to stammer out.

  “You have to, it’s part of the rules,” he said patiently.

  I frowned, trying to keep up with the conversation when all I wanted to do was kiss him. “What rules?”

  “The rules I just made up.”

  “Who put you in charge of making rules?”

  “Me. You decided that I have to pollute my mouth with this stuff, so I decided we make toasts as we go. Come on, you’re stalling.” He arched an eyebrow, and I almost slid off my chair as my bones dissolved.

  “I can’t. You make this one, and I’ll make the next one.” There was no way I could tell him that I wanted to make a toast to his mouth. Or his eyes, or his biceps—I wasn’t picky.

  “I’ll hold you to that. Okay, here’s to sophisticated women.”

  Oh God, I thought as we clinked glasses. I knew what sophisticated woman he was thinking of—one who was going to seduce him in a black dress. I sculled my glass again.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it good wine manners to sip?” He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying my lack of self-composure, which was highly annoying. It was all well and fine for him to sit there cool, calm, and collected. He wasn’t the vulnerable person in the situation, the person whose heart was breaking in this stupid farce.

  “I’m too tired to sip,” I replied.

  He shrugged and sipped the alcohol. This time, as I watched the way his mouth moved, all the blood in my veins buzzed, and I had to physically restrain myself from taking the glass from him and kissing him there at the table.

  “This one’s not as bad.” He licked the taste from his lips. “But I still wouldn’t say I like it.”

  “I like it,” I said, mesmerized.

  “I can see that,” he said, grinning at my empty glass.

  The effects of the second drink were starting to take hold—my whole body was tingling, and my thoughts were becoming cloudy. “I think I drank that too fast. You finish yours, I need some air.”

  After stumbling to my feet, I made for the balcony. The cool breeze on my arms felt so good, I closed my eyes and held on to the railing for balance. I jumped when a hand touched my shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” Jake looked deep into my eyes, his eyebrows drawn slightly together in concern.

  “I’m fine.” What could I say? You affect me so much I want to throw myself at you, to lick that wine from your naked stomach, even though I know you wouldn’t want that? He’d hardly thank me for the information.

  “You don’t look fine.” He tilted his head to one side.

  He was standing too close. I could feel his body heat and smell the essence of the sea on his skin. He was overwhelming my thoughts, my body. “I think I’ll have a coffee and some more crackers before we try the next one.” I turned to walk past him, but his hands settled on my shoulders, stopping me.

  He looked into my eyes, and the urge to wrap my arms around him and press my body against his was almost irresistible. I wanted to ignore the consequences and let my body do what it wanted. Why not? Why did I have to be a good girl?

  Because he doesn’t want you, a small voice in my mind answered. He wants Scarlett. He’s just being nice. He’s always nice to everyone. Don’t read any more into it. I brushed his hands away and bolted back into the kitchen.

  I made the coffee and took it to the living room. Picking up his glass, Jake sauntered over to join me. Belatedly, I realized I should’ve sat back at the table—now there was nowhere else for him to sit except on the couch. Close to me. Inside my personal space, smelling better than any man had a right to.

  I took a gulp of coffee to hide my embarrassment as his thigh came to rest against mine. The heat of that point of contact spread like wildfire across my skin, and down low in my belly. This was fast becoming torture.

  “Annalise, I’m not sure what’s wrong, but everything’s changed in the last few minutes.”

  He was so near, the warmth emanating from his skin enveloped me. My body wanted to sway toward him, but before it took control and showed him what ideas it had, I quickly pasted a smile on my face. There was no way I’d make a fool of myself over him again. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a downer, I think I’m just tired and I drank that wine a little fast.”

  “You think?” He grinned, but his eyes didn’t seem convinced—more that he was letting it go for now.

  “Shut up, Maxwell, and drink yours. When I finish this coffee, we’re moving on to Verdelho.”

  The moment seemed suspended as he watched me, almost searching for something. Then he let out a breath and finished his wine. We chatted, and I topped off his glass with more Chardonnay to give myself a little extra time to recover my equilibrium. It almost worked.

  “This Verdelho is sweet,” I said, once I retrieved the third bottle from the kitchen, “and I think you’ll like sweet better than dry.”

  “Like my women.” He grinned.

  “Unlike yourself right at this moment.”

  I poured the glasses and lifted mine to taste.

  “Ah-hem,” he gave me a stern look. “I think you’ve forgotten something? Your toast.”

  I grimaced. “I was hoping you’d forget that. I still can’t think of anything.”

  “Why don’t you make a toast to me?” he said casually.

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You list some of my fine qualities and toast me.”

  That sounded a bad idea, but my thinking was still a bit too cloudy to work out why. “To my friend Kelly’s brother.”

  “Who is…” Jake supplied with a patient look.

  “Who is…cocky, infuriating, and too attractive for his own good.”

  “Thank you. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” He must have found it, because he was grinning from ear to ear as he took a sip. “Either these are tasting better, or I’m getting too drunk to notice.”

  “You don’t look drunk,” I said.

  “Then they must be getting better.” He ran a hand over his jaw, drawing my gaze. “Although I will admit to feeling a bit tipsy.”

  “Me too, although slightly more than tipsy.” I placed my glass carefully on the table. “We should pace ourselves more.”

  “I agree. But, how will we fill the time?”

  I realized I must be drunk when I thought he was suggesting more than friendly interaction.

  Chapter Ten

  Annalise

  “I think we should talk,” I rushed to say. “About Scarlett.” My stomach dropped into freefall. Why had I chosen that particular topic of all possible topics?

  Though I knew why. It was the elephant in the room I’d been trying to ignore. And it was time our cards were on the table. “Tell
me what your intentions are. Were you serious about seeing her as a challenge, or is this the real thing for you? Can you see yourself married to her with mini-Jakes?”

  He stared into his glass, swirling the pale wine. “I don’t do long term.”

  I frowned, not quite believing he’d just spouted such a cliché. “What do you mean, you don’t do long term?”

  I might’ve been a spectacular failure at relationships, but I still believed that one day the stars would align and I’d make it work—possibly with the headless man from my collage. But Jake… He seemed to not even want to try, which didn’t make sense.

  As he looked up, I glimpsed a searing pain transform his face. Regardless, he made a valiant effort at a casual smile. “It doesn’t work for me. I have it on good authority.”

  “Someone told you that?” I asked, incredulous. The unmasked anguish in his eyes tore at my heart.

  “A girl. Someone I asked to marry me when I was twenty.”

  “What happened?”

  He took another mouthful of wine. “Her name was Donna, and I was crazy about her. I thought she felt the same. But when I proposed, she told me she couldn’t marry me because, and I quote, ‘You’re fun to be with, Jake, but let’s face it, you’re not the guy a woman takes seriously’.” He winced ever so slightly as he spoke.

  I bit down on my lip, feeling bad about all the things I’d thought about his woman-hopping in the past. “She said that?”

  He nodded. “She did. And more. Apparently, I don’t have any depth, and I’m not capable of committing long term to anyone or anything. Then she went overseas and married some guy she’d known two weeks.”

  I touched his arm, not knowing what else to do, and he looked up, seeming surprised that I was there. “And you believed her?”

  He shrugged. “She knew me pretty well, why wouldn’t I believe her?”

  “Because she was wrong.” I might think Jake was a flirt but no way was he as shallow as Donna claimed. And which he seemed to accept as true.

  He gave a humorless laugh. “That’s kind of you, but I think I’ve proven her right over the years. Do you see an adoring wife anywhere around here? My relationships never last very long.” He grimaced and looked up at the ceiling. “I even thought I’d found someone to be serious about a year after Donna left. That one lasted about five weeks. So, yeah, I believe her.”

  Needing to comfort him, I grasped for an explanation. “Maybe it’s become a self-fulfilling prophecy.” He shrugged, and I continued. “You’ve proven her wrong professionally—she said you wouldn’t amount to anything, but you’re successful. She was wrong on the personal level, too.”

  He gently took the hand I’d put on his arm and held it in his own. Watching his struggle to contain his sadness almost brought me to tears, and suddenly I had a flash of insight. “You’ve built your business over the years to prove her wrong, haven’t you?”

  He didn’t bother denying it. “It hasn’t worked.”

  “What do you mean? Of course it has.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way. I have this drive to prove myself, yet whatever I do, it’s never enough. I’m always restless for more.”

  “Scarlett’s a trophy then?”

  He withdrew his hand and shifted further into the couch. “That’s a crass way of putting it.”

  “But somewhere inside, you think you’ll have proven Donna wrong if you have Scarlett on your arm. You’ll have amounted to something.”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged dismissively. “Maybe.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence as Jake frowned at his wine and I struggled with the new information, before shaking my head. “I still don’t understand.” Then I braced myself before voicing the bitter-tasting words. “Why wouldn’t you consider making long-term plans with Scarlett? She’s not much of a trophy if she’s not a long term one. If you’ve proved Donna wrong on one score, why not prove her wrong on the other?”

  He gave a sharp shake of his head and stood. “No. She was right about that.” I watched him walk into the kitchen and put his glass on the sink before turning back to me. “I haven’t told anyone before. Wine must loosen the tongue.”

  His embarrassment at revealing his pain affected me as much as the pain itself. “Jake—”

  “How about that last wine? You said it’d be the sweetest?”

  “Um, yes. The Riesling.” Uncertain, I hesitated. If Jake wanted to avoid talking more, shouldn’t I allow him the privacy?

  I poured two glasses of Riesling and handed one to him.

  “Thanks,” he said, then looking into my eyes, he smiled. “It’s your turn to make the toast.”

  “But I did the last one.”

  “I’ve made two and you’ve made one, so this one’s yours.” He was trying hard to make light, teasing conversation, when I could see in his eyes he was still feeling the pain he’d just re-lived. I wanted to hold him, rock him, tell him everything would be all right, but I knew he’d take it as pity and push me away.

  I lifted my glass. “Here’s to an amazing man, who’s both sensitive and strong.”

  As he held my gaze, I held my breath. Had I gone too far? He stilled; the only sign of animation was the darkening of his eyes. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  Slightly confused—not to mention slightly breathless—by Jake’s intensity, I tried to lighten the mood. “I’m sure you’ve been complimented before, Jake.”

  His gaze didn’t waver. “On my looks or my surfing, yes. Often. But no one’s said something like that before. Thank you.”

  I tilted my head to the side, considering. Why hadn’t that been said to him before? I’d once thought Jake had everything life had to offer…but that was a fallacy. As revelations go, it was a big one. “You’re welcome.”

  We both lifted our glasses to taste the last wine, but I couldn’t draw my eyes from his. I felt the Riesling flow over my tongue, and, when I lowered the glass, I licked the remaining taste from my lips. I saw Jake watch the movement.

  “Do you like that wine?” I asked, my voice slightly husky.

  “Yep.” He took another sip, still watching me with a strange intensity.

  “I thought you’d like this one best.”

  “I do.” He took a step closer and offered his glass to me. “Try some.”

  I considered telling him that my glass came from the same bottle, but didn’t. I was mesmerized. He moved even closer and lifted his glass to my lips. Closing my eyes, I sipped. Then I felt him take the glass from my fingers and heard both glasses landing on the bench. In the same moment, I felt his mouth gently on mine, tasting the sweet wine on my lips.

  I tried to contain a slight groan, but it slipped out moments before Jake’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him. Winding an arm around his neck and the other around his back, I held him firm, not willing to risk that he might change his mind. Whatever was happening outside in the real world, here and now, Jake was kissing me, and no way was I letting anything stop that.

  He slid a hand to cradle my head before opening my hairclip, allowing my hair to spill down to my shoulders, and a shiver fluttered along my spine as his fingers ran through its length.

  When his lips moved over my mouth, I felt the simple kiss become more passionate, tongues, lips, and hands bolder. But it wasn’t enough—I wanted to touch and be touched everywhere at once. His mouth was hot and decadent…and, once again, he was spoiling me for any other man.

  Smoothly, without breaking the kiss, he eased me against the counter and lifted me. Through the fog of hunger, I barely noticed the change except now I had the freedom to wrap my legs around his waist and used the opportunity to pull him closer until I could feel his arousal pressing firmly against me. I rocked against him, wanting him naked. Now.

  Freeing his shirt, I roamed my hands across his back, reveling in the muscle contractions following in the wake of my touch. His reaction to me—me—made me all the hotter.
/>   Then, for a moment, I was bereft as his lips left mine, but, seconds later, as they brushed my throat, I moaned and tightened my hold on his waist. I needed the support, as it seemed my entire skeleton had been replaced by marshmallow.

  His feather-light touch burned a path down my neck and across my shoulder, before he brought his face back to mine. Scanning his oh-so-familiar features, one thought broke through the fog. Jake. This is Jake. My body was already singing from his touch and in that moment, it was joined by my heart. Reaching for him, I was met halfway by his lips, and my fingernails dug into his back in my need to be closer.

  This was unlike any kiss I’d ever had before. Those kisses had been enjoyable, arousing, but this… This was everything. Jake’s kiss created a world around us, and nothing outside that world mattered.

  He tugged at my shirt where it was tucked into my shorts, then I felt his hands on the bare skin of my waist.

  His breath hissed out from between his teeth. “Your skin. It feels like heaven.”

  No, heaven was his hands on me.

  “Jake,” I whispered, then pulled his head back to kiss him again.

  His hands moved a slow but steady path higher under my top, setting off electric tingles as he passed over my waist, then headed higher still. When his knuckles brushed the undersides of my breasts, I shuddered, and I felt him smile against my mouth.

  Without breaking the kiss, his hands retraced their path, once again brushing the undersides of my breasts, and, once again, I shuddered.

  “I could get used to this game,” he said.

  “I’ve got a better game,” I whispered against his mouth.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  I covered his hands with my own through the fabric of my shirt and urged them higher, until they cupped my breasts. I gasped as everything inside me coiled tight.

  “I like your game better,” he said. “So much.”

  I was beyond words. His thumbs moved in unison across the lace of my bra, then one hand reached behind me and unhooked it. Oh, yes. A million times yes. My heartbeat galloped. I could hardly draw breath. Then time crawled to a standstill as he lifted my shirt and his mouth made contact with my breast. Fire ripped through every nerve ending in my body.