The Best Laid Plans (14 page)

“Definitely not love. I don’t like sharing my toys.”

“Damn.”

“And I do like him. But it’s not love.” Jayne was pretty sure it wasn’t love. She wasn’t looking for a relationship at the moment. She had too much going on at work. The paths her thoughts took when she thought of him weren’t always purely sexual. They’d hooked up six times in the two weeks since he’d sung to her on the phone, and last night had been … well, she’d never look at a bathtub the same way again. Or a couch.

 Instead of getting tired of him, or the novelty wearing off, she’d wanted him more each time.

Yesterday she’d debated standing Amber up, and calling him for a quickie on her lunch hour. She was definitely losing control of the situation, and despite what her libido wanted, she might need a big step back. Spending too much time with a person and still wanting them this much couldn’t be entirely healthy.

Especially since she had trouble picturing the future as anything other than what she had now.

Perpetually single Jayne was in danger of wanting to lock this man down.

It was thrilling and horrifying. Mostly she tried not to think about it, just enjoying him when they were together.

And fantasizing about him when they were apart.

“Jayne. You’re doing it again.”

“Shit. Sorry, Amb.”

“I wish I could come on these little naughty thought vacations you keep disappearing on.”

“I seriously need a patch.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Alright.” Amber speared another bite of steak. She wasn’t a big believer in salad. Just another thing that Jayne loved about her.

“It’s just, he reads my body like he found the instruction manual. Like he
wrote
it.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “I’ve never come so hard in my entire life.”

“Christ. Now I really am jealous.” Amber set her fork down.

“It’s fabulous, and terrible! I can’t stop thinking about him!”

“Do you think you’ll get it out of your system soon?”

“Maybe,” Jayne allowed, but doubtfully. “But it seems to have gotten worse. The more I have—”

“The more you want.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, only one way to find out.”

Jayne raised her eyebrows.

“You’re just going to have to keep sleeping with him, and see what happens.”

“You are the best enabler a girl could ask for.”

“I know. It’s why you’re buying lunch.” Amber speared another bite of rib-eye and chewed somewhat gleefully.

“Done.”

Even if Amber was wrong about more sex being the answer, it would be one hell of an experiment.

***

Malcolm had never been so productive in his career up to date. His bank account, just fine at the worst of times, rapidly swelled with the fruits of the sessions he’d booked. Four this week, three the last. And on top of it, he’d written three new songs. He practically burst with energy and creativity. It was insane.

He couldn’t be sure, but signs pointed to Jayne as being the reason for the recent hyper-productivity. He felt a twinge of guilt, wondering for a moment what would happen to her, what would happen to him when he dumped her, but he trampled it into a dark corner of his mind. Just thinking about his plan made him feel unsettled in ways it hadn’t even a couple weeks ago.

He’d never been a bad person, but it seemed like his conscience didn’t like his plan. He couldn’t listen to that little voice inside. That voice inside was the trusting loser who people had taken advantage of. That good little voice was the thing that had allowed his friend to betray him, and his body to be broken back when he’d been a teenager.

Granted, the history was a little harder to dig to now with all the new song ideas filling his mind, and the way Jayne drove away all thoughts when they were together – and they’d been together a lot the past few weeks. But it hadn’t gone away. And in the quiet moments, he still remembered the pain.

He couldn’t let it go, no matter how much fun he and Jayne had had in the past few weeks. He couldn’t let down the kid he’d been. This might be his one shot at vengeance, at setting things right, restoring the balance.

And he was going to do it.

He couldn’t deny the way she made him feel, though. She brought out his fun side, made him laugh like he never had.

God, when they were together he burned inside, felt a heat he didn’t think it possible to contain. He was the flame and she was the only thing that could extinguish him. But instead of being water, she was gasoline. The more he had her, the more he wanted. Such a vicious cycle that left him wondering what had happened the morning after when she’d gone, and it was quiet, and he could think again.

The past couple days he’d begun wondering what if. What if all that bullshit in high school hadn’t happened? Would he have eventually gathered the testicular fortitude to ask her on a date? What if they’d never met in high school, and they’d truly met the first night when she came up and asked him to pretend to be her boyfriend. Would he have still been attracted to her?

Deep down, he felt like yes. Possibly, he always would have fallen for her, regardless of the time or place.

But none of that mattered now. He couldn’t rewrite history, and he couldn’t erase his scars. Maybe this was destiny, maybe it wasn’t.

But they’d never know if it would have worked out.

All they had was what they had now.

And soon, because of him, they wouldn’t even have that.

He dialed her number.

***

One ring. Malcolm. Should she answer, or play it cool? What did she want from him? Definitely not a relationship. Malcolm made her body sing. Two rings. Completely sated, she had no need to search for anyone else. But it was just incredible sex. She wasn’t looking to fall in love. Three rings. Malcolm would be great partner material, she couldn’t help but notice, but Jayne couldn’t be bothered. Either way, who cared?

She snatched up the phone. “Hello?”

“Thought I’d get your voicemail for a minute there.” He spoke in cold caramel tones she wanted to lick from his lips.

“What would you have said?”

“Oh, something that would have made you blush and save the message for later.”

“Mmm. I’m a little sad I answered now.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you did.”

“I am too.” She meant it.

“What are you up to?”

“Working.”

“Are you there now? Do you need me to let you go?” The lazy quality left his voice.

“No, I’m at home. It’s a perk, or a horror, that I can take some things home with me.” She clawed for a casual tone, trying not to sound like this call was the highlight of her day.

“What exactly are you working on?”

“Ah.” She kicked her feet up on the couch and slid down, letting his voice unwind the knots in her shoulders. “That’s something I can’t tell.”

“Doctor Patient confidentiality and all that?”

“That’s exactly it. Stop picturing me in a nurse’s uniform.”

He chuckled. “You know me so well.”

“My favorite dirty mind.”

“I’m honored. Do you really not like your work?”

“Honestly? I love it.”

“Yeah?”

She paused to analyze how she felt. “Yeah. It’s exciting. I was never a brainiac in school, but math has always been easy for me. Futures trading is a lot about math, a lot of calculations, but instincts play a huge role as well.”

“And yours are good.” He phrased it as a statement instead of a question.

“Yes. Dealing with Splash Crash, planning for obsolescence. Margin calls! It keeps my day new. Numbers are my thing, but if I’d gone into accounting it would be the same boring numbers every year. In trading, I’m always on my toes. I have to keep on top of things every day, stay on top of so much information so I can make the best choices for my clients.”

“Is there an area you specialize in?”

“Mostly precious metals, global commodities – dealing in foreign markets – and industrial metals, though I have one client who’s a bit on the paranoid side, who deals only in physical commodities.”

“As in … ”

“Gold bullion, palladium, rare coins.”

“Wow.” His voice came out low, and he sounded impressed.

“Yeah. It’s pretty high stakes.”

“Have you ever screwed up?”

She hesitated.

“Too personal?”

“No. It’s not that.” She closed her eyes. “Every day I’m scared my trades, my deals won’t work out. They always do, but every day I’m terrified I’ll fuck up and lose everyone’s money.”

“And at the end of the day when your fears haven’t come true?”

“It’s exhilarating. God, it’s an amazing rush. It’s been three years, and the feelings never fade. I’ve been lucky.” She’d never told anyone about her fears before.

“You know that it’s not luck though, right?”

“Yeah.” Even she heard the lack of conviction in her voice.

“Maybe you could have fooled everyone for a day, or a trade. Possibly a month if you had the best luck ever. But three years? That’s all you, Jayne. That’s skill, not luck. Not fluke. You’re clearly amazing at what you do. Don’t cheapen that by attributing it to luck. It’s not external. It’s all you.”

She smiled and curled into a ball of happiness. “You’re the first person I’ve told about this.”

“Thank you.”

“Now tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.”

He went quiet.

What secret would he give to her?

***

She was scarily smart – he loved listening to her talk about her job, how she worked through the information and made decisions.

“What do you want to know?” He hedged for time.

“Anything. As long as it’s true.”

She was open and direct in ways she never was when they were physically together. As if sex and talking combined to be too much for her to handle.  The phone felt safe with no eye contact, and she could hang up anytime she felt threatened. He wished she could relax like this in person so he could see her unguarded eyes when she spoke about her life.

“I’m the same way about my music.”

“What? But you’re amazing!”

“Thank you. But every time I walk into the studio, I freak inside, and feel like they’re going to hate every note I play. I’m shocked every time when other people are happy to put my work on their albums.”

“But they do, and you’re always rehired.”

“Yes.”

“And your music is amazing. I’ve loved every song you’ve played for me.”

 He wished he had her in his arms right then. “It’s different when you’re creating something for someone else, trying to mesh it with their vision.”

“Well you are fucking talented, and should never worry about it. If no one ever hired you again, I’d hire you to play your songs for me. Naked of course, but still.”

He laughed. “I could arrange that anytime you like.”

“Mmm, I’ll definitely file that away for a rainy day.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“How about now?” she countered.

“Aren’t you working?”

“Damn reality.”

“I know. It’s terribly unkind to us.”

“I’d like to kick it in its hateful little face.”

She was so cute. He could eat her up. And he would. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“You, if you’re nice to me.”

“Lucky for me, I’m always nice.”

“Should I come by tomorrow?” A soft shyness had entered her voice.

“God yes.”

Her laugh wandered around his heart, throwing smiles into his chest. “What time should I come?”

“Five minutes after you get here.”

“You’re so delightful.”

“I try.”

“I like how we’re basically the same person.”

You have no idea.

Her feet propelled her to his apartment building as if she moved under a spell. One foot in front of the other carrying her to his door when her mind already roamed inside his apartment. Inside his bedroom. Malcolm. The best drug she’d ever had. No side effects except for the cravings. Too long without his touch made her feel like she would go mad. Knowing there was someone who could please her so completely and not being with him all the time was torture.

She knocked on his door, fighting the urge to rub against it like a cat in heat.

He opened the door wearing only a well-worn pair of faded jeans, and looked her head to toe. She also wore jeans and a soft, pink tank top that clung to her curves. He hooked a finger into her belt loop and tugged her through the threshold. She wrapped herself around him and he kissed her deeply enough to make her forget they’d ever been apart. His lips were cool and tasted like peppermint.

She kicked off her sandals. His hands whispered promises of pleasure across the bare skin of her lower back, trailing underneath her top as he removed it. Her bra hit the floor a second later, and he moved around to embrace her from behind, kissing her collarbone and neck as he went. The loss of his heat against her front made her shiver. His mouth brushing against the nape of her neck made her shiver more.

His hands splayed over her hips, backed her up tighter to him, pressed hard against the curve of her ass. The sudden pressure made her gasp and push back harder; her need had been a question on the tip of her tongue for a week since she’d last seen him. He was the answer.