Better Than Chocolate...

“Nothing so…intimate.” The way her low voice caressed the word knotted his gut. “A co-worker if you will. Actually, a rival.”

He was the Jack in her past? Life was stranger than fiction. They’d never met before, yet he reminded her of himself. “I see. I don’t want to be your rival this evening,” he said on behalf of both Jacks, Jack the Imposter and Jack the Rival. And amazingly he didn’t. Certainly, if she had anything business related to divulge, he’d listen. But he found himself fascinated by Eve—the woman and the Avenger.

“Poor choice of words. He’s my counterpart.”

She could backpedal all evening, but the truth as she saw it lay in her initial response. Ethically, he should speak up and admit his true identity. He’d actually tried to earlier, but she had turned down his offer. And he was much more likely to gain insight into her and her plans if she didn’t know who he was. An even more compelling justification for keeping his mouth shut was that Eve wasn’t likely to stay for dinner if she knew he was Jack LaRoux. At least not on the terms he wanted her to stay. All told, self-interest far outweighed ethics.

“Counterpart sounds like a much more interesting position than rival,” he said.

“Perhaps.”

“Oh?”

“A truly interesting position would be to become both.” Sensuality threaded her voice.

This was the way he’d seen her, fantasized about her even. She was his equal, yet also his rival, and they were locked in a struggle for domination. Arousal, swift and intense, arrowed through him.

Unfortunately, the waiter arrived for their drink order. Or perhaps it was fortunate, as it gave him a chance to recover his equilibrium.

They ordered coconut prawns and a bottle of wine, sommelier’s choice.

Jack wasn’t hungry for prawns or anything else on the menu. Dinner had merely been a way to get her to see him again. And that was even before he knew who she was. Eve was the most enigmatic, self-possessed women he’d ever met. His younger sister, Marta, would crucify him as a sexist pig, but the truth was, most of the women he knew couldn’t wait to tell him all about themselves. He’d never met a woman more closemouthed—or one he wanted to know about more.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

He shrugged. She hadn’t shown overwhelming enthusiasm when he offered the invitation. “I hoped you would.”

Skeptical amusement lit her eyes. “Have you ever been stood up?”

He smiled. Busted. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Hmm. I can’t imagine you have many first experiences left open.”

“There’s enough.” He’d had his fair share of sexual experiences, but he had a feeling making love to Eve would be something truly unique.

“Such as?” she asked.

Probably best not to bring up making love…yet. “I’ve never been married or engaged. I’ve never forfeited a handball game.” He smiled. “There’s a whole range of first experiences waiting for me.” Including you.

The waiter arrived with the wine. After the obligatory sniff and taste test, he poured two glasses of the pale drink and left.

Eve traced the glass rim with a neat, unpolished nail and picked up their conversational thread. “How about love? Have you ever been in love, Jack?”

Ah, the irresistible topic of love. “No. I’ve never succumbed to the power of Aphrodite.” He paused as she raised the wineglass to her full, generous mouth and sipped. “But then again, Aphrodite’s a myth.”

“Delicious,” she said, complimenting the wine and regarding him over her glass rim. “Love’s a myth?” She didn’t display feminine outrage, merely amused interest.

“Love’s a shadow puppet. People hide their real emotions and motivations behind it. Lust, passion, obsession, manipulation. Cloak them in the guise of love and all’s right with the world.” For her, for now, he would pretend to be himself, which worked out because he drew the line at pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

Eve tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “It must be difficult.”

“What?”

“To view the world through such a dark shade of cynicism,” she said, her tone more amused than mocking.

He shrugged. “I manage.” He was what he was. “What about you, Eve? Have you ever been in love?”

“No.” She didn’t hesitate. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

Unflappable. Composed. She stared at him with those beautiful eyes. “Ah. Are you that delicious garden variety who considers herself one lucky date away from destiny?”

She laughed, a low chuckle that strummed through him. “Perhaps…but not tonight, Jack.”

“Touché.” And that was good news. Wasn’t it?

“What? Aren’t you relieved?”

“Absolutely.” He didn’t buy into that destiny nonsense. But he did believe in the strong attraction sizzling between them. Her emotional distance spurred his desire to hold her close. He held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

She put her hand in his and stood. Energy pulsed between them. He led her to the floor and drew her into his arms. She fit perfectly…at least for the night.

Her subtle scent and warm flesh teased him. He glanced into her eyes, crystal-clear pools alight with humor and intelligence, and a touch of mockery. She was warm, fluid, graceful and totally unreachable, even though he held her in his arms.

His intense reaction to Eve surprised him. What was it about her? She wasn’t overly beautiful, accomplished, or even particularly well dressed. But the fact remained, he wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman in a long time, perhaps ever. There was the element of the forbidden, the unattainable, about her. Perhaps he wanted her for the same reason she wanted to call a stranger Jack. The thought of this self-possessed woman as a conquest…His cynicism didn’t exclude himself and Jack always got what Jack wanted.

The song ended and they returned to the table. During their dance, the waiter had delivered their orders.

“You’re quite a good dancer,” he said. And she was—with a strong partner. Otherwise she would’ve slipped into the lead.

“Thanks.” Eve forked a plump, succulent shrimp. “My mother insisted all of us have ballroom dance classes. Learning to tango at Arthur Murray Dance Studio qualified as teen torture, but it’s paid off. Except I do have a tendency to try and lead….” She smiled and then neatly bit the shrimp in two.

He couldn’t contain an answering smile, charmed by her self-assessment. “I noticed.”

She grimaced. “I’m sure you did. My instructor used to say dancing with me was more work than pleasure.”

His body still held the imprint of her heat, her scent, her soft curves. “Then he obviously never danced with you once you’d grown up.”

She smiled. “I’ve changed a little bit since I was fourteen. What about you? Where’d you learn to dance like that?”

“It was a required course at boarding school. I got top marks in my class.”

He sounded like a desperate adolescent trying to impress the pretty girl who refused to be impressed. He’d witnessed it countless times, but he’d never been in the position himself. Not until now. He didn’t relish the role.

“It shows,” she said.

“If you’re going to do anything, you should do it well. I go for top marks every time.” And she’d do well to remember that.

“Everything?” Husky innuendo underscored the challenge.

“Everything.”

“My older brother once told me that beautiful girls weren’t as good in bed because they felt like it was enough of a treat for the guy to simply be there with them.”

Jack laughed, startled by her candor. He’d drawn the same conclusion on more than one occasion. But he’d be damned if he’d ever had a date voice it. Once again, she wrestled the upper hand from him.

“Are you warning me or is that a general observation?”

“Neither. I’m quizzing you. Is that the way it is with men?” How did she manage to be so blunt and bold, yet remote? As if he amused her, for the moment.

“I don’t know. I’ve never slept with a beautiful man and I don’t intend to start. Not even to satisfy your curiosity.” He delighted in misconstruing her meaning.

“There are far better ways to satisfy my curiosity as to whether breathtakingly handsome men try as hard.”

Jack’s ability to visualize was one of his greatest assets in his job. And right now he could visualize very clearly Eve naked beneath him, her ankles hooked over his shoulders, his hands gripping her thighs, while he proved just how hard and thoroughly he could convince her.

“I’m sure I could satisfy…your curiosity. As I said before, I go for top marks in everything.”

“Interesting. We do seem to have a lot in common. I, too, have a compulsion to be the best. That’s one of the reasons I’m here. To show my competitor that there’s only one spot at the top and it’s mine.”

“Jack? Your rival?”

“Jack.”

“So this is business?”

“Monday it’s business. This weekend is pleasure.”

The way pleasure rolled off her tongue brought out the best of Jack’s visualization skills again, arousing more than his intellect.

“You like being on top?” he asked. Instant image—her astride him. Instant erection.

“Absolutely.”

“And how do you think Jack will take you being on top?” he asked softly.

She shrugged one nearly bare shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll take it like a man.” A slow, wicked smile crooked her mouth. “How would you take it, Jack?”

As much as he hated being predictable, he was a man and her provocative choice of words tightened his entire body. “I’d uphold my end of the deal…until I could reverse positions. What if you don’t come out on top, Eve? What if Jack gets that spot?”

“He won’t.”

Jack recognized bluffing when he saw it. Eve wasn’t. She spoke with absolute conviction, as if she already owned the equipment account.

He’d seriously miscalculated. When he won the vice presidency, Eve wouldn’t be part of his team. Now that he’d actually met her, he knew she’d never work under him. Eve the Avenger was as good as gone.

Which left him free to do what he’d wanted to all evening—kiss her remarkable mouth until her composure shattered to hell and back.

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