Too Close To Call

3

JORDAN GAZED down at Ashley’s slumberous eyes and inviting lips, soft and deep pink in the flickering light from her computer screen. On second thought, bad was an understatement.

This was a disaster.

He knew he had to walk away—now, before things got out of hand. But somehow, he couldn’t get that message to his legs.

She blinked her long lashes. Once, then twice, then three times. She looked slightly tousled from sleep—that crisp, perfect, don’t-touch-me edge gone.

Desire convulsed within him.

He stroked his fingertips over her hair, reveling in its soft texture, inhaling the subtle scent of her wild-flower perfume. “Do you think…”

“Yes?” she answered on a whisper, her sweet breath puffing against his skin.

His hand tightened involuntarily around the rope of her braid. “That if I kissed you…”

Her eyes closed, and she softened in his arms.

He moved another inch and brushed his lips gently across hers, testing the tender skin, absorbing the heat. “That in two minutes…”

A small shudder ran through her.

“Maybe five minutes…” he amended, pausing, puckering, holding her moist lips for a single heartbeat.

Her hands came up to grip his biceps.

He touched her lower lip with the tip of his tongue and sensation rocketed to his toes. “In, say, ten minutes from now…We could walk out of here and forget it ever happened?”

“Jeffrey?” Her voice was small. Her fingertips dug into his arms, bringing far more pleasure than pain.

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“You’re already kissing me.”

“Oh, no, I’m not.” He shook his head. This wasn’t kissing.

But if she was willing…

He gave her a second to pull away. Then he opened his mouth, tipped his head, captured her lips, and sealed them together in a fusion of heat and pent-up passion, his brain blinded to everything but the feel and taste of Ashley.

She came up on her toes, and he settled his arm more firmly around her waist, pulling her tight against his tension-filled body. His fingers tangled in her hair, thumb stroking her cheek, circling her ear, dipping, delving, finding the tender, secret places on the back of her neck.

He flicked his tongue against the inside of her lips, and her mouth opened wider on a moan. Her hands slid to his shoulders and she held on, tipping her head to one side. Her tongue met his halfway, tangling in a burst of heated need.

Now this was kissing.

His fingertips found the silky skin between her short sweater and her little skirt, twitching in reaction. He longed to explore further, but they’d only agreed on a kiss.

So, he focused on her mouth, kissing her longer, harder, deeper. Coming up for air to pepper the corners of her mouth with mini kisses, tasting her soft skin, inhaling the hidden scent where her neck curved into her shoulder.

And then he was back to her mouth, because that was the apex of her magic. The computers hummed in the background, the multicolored screens bathing the room in a soft glow. Jordan was losing his center, losing his perspective.

She tasted of sweet coffee and midnight dreams, and he wanted the kiss to go on forever.

But the kiss was a lie.

He was living a lie.

She thought he was Jeffrey, and Jeffrey thought she was the enemy. And here in L.A., Jordan Adamson didn’t even exist. Of all the off-limits women in the whole off-limits world, Ashley took first prize.

There was no way for this to turn out well.

Though his body screamed for mercy, Jordan loosened his hold. He forced his hand to let go of her hair. He broke from her lips, gathering his strength, steeling his desire, then going back for a single, lightning-fast kiss of regret.

Her eyes flickered open. A deep breath slipped out between her swollen lips.

“Our ten minutes are up,” he whispered, touching his forehead to hers.

“So soon?” she asked.

Not a moment too soon, his brain pointed out. Even though his body strongly disagreed.

“You okay?” he asked. He was okay. Well, except for the fact that the universe had just shifted and he was struggling to get his bearings.

“That was…” She took a step back, slipping from his arms, breaking their touch.

“Cataclysmic?” It wasn’t the perfect word. But he didn’t think the perfect word existed to describe what had just happened between them.

She squared her shoulders, the tough, professional Ashley emerging from the soft, romantic goddess. “A really big mistake.”

She was right, but it pricked his pride. He wasn’t about to let her shift gears that quickly. “You didn’t like it?” he asked.

“Quit fishing.”

Jordan gave her a cocky half smile, hoping to shake a reaction out of her. “I don’t need another compliment. Your actions speak louder than words.”

“What actions?”

“You kissed me. Seriously.”

She gave a light laugh, and smoothed her hair back, her expression going neutral. She might have been staring at a log sheet for all the emotion in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jordan was taken aback by the complete transformation. “Are you telling me I imagined your reaction?”

No way. Not a chance. A woman couldn’t fake that.

She smiled smugly. “This is Hollywood, Jeffrey.” She reached past him to pop her disk out of the computer. “Everything’s an illusion.” Then she straightened and saluted him with the plastic cover. “See you at the Board meeting on Friday.”

Jordan watched the sway of her hips as she walked out the door.

Acting?

If she could act like that, the woman deserved an award.

Of course, this was L.A. And she was in the television business. Who was to say she didn’t start out as an actress?

Still.

He’d bet she wasn’t that good.

And, he’d bet that if they kissed again, he could prove it. He squared his shoulders. If he met her in her office, or in his office, or in one of the 26th floor meeting rooms…

One more chance, and he could show her who was and wasn’t acting.

Yeah.

He nodded his head.

Then he shook his head.

What was he thinking? He might be leaving on Friday, but Jeffrey was coming back to stay. The man had to work for Argonaut Studios. He had to work with Ashley. Jordan couldn’t leave a disaster in his wake.

SOMEBODY UP THERE was out to get Ashley.

Her heels clicked on the hallway floor as she made her way toward the east wing of the studio at three in the afternoon.

When Harold Gauthier, the chairman of the board, had asked her to attend tonight’s Platinum party at his mansion, she’d been overjoyed. It was an A-list party, a sure sign she was being noticed in the upper echelons of the studio.

In the split second after he’d issued the invitation, she’d planned her wardrobe, her hair, even pondered if she’d have time for a quick facial and a pedicure.

But then he’d dropped the bombshell.

“Get Jeffrey Bradshaw to pick you up,” he’d said.

And, of course, she’d said, “love it.” And suddenly, instead of going to the party as an up-and-coming executive, she was going to the party as the date of an up-and-coming executive.

For a minute there, Harold had actually reminded her of her father. And that chafed.

What was with men?

Why couldn’t they simply see her as a professional? Not a female professional, but simply a colleague.

Her father was wonderful, and she loved him dearly, but he had an annoying habit of trying to second-guess her life. With the best of intentions, he kept asking why she was knocking herself out to get ahead in her career, since she’d probably meet a good man and quit anyway.

Her brothers were the same way, mired somewhere in 1950s thinking. And the one and only time she’d been in a serious relationship, the man squashed her professional aspirations so fast she’d barely known what hit her.

“There’s nothing wrong with a career, darling.” Reggie had said as her three-carat diamond solitaire sparkled hypnotically in the candlelight at Ruffino’s. “It just has to be the right career. You know, maybe something at the museum or the gallery, a hostess, part-time. At least until the children come along. You’ve got all the right clothes.”

Actually, she hadn’t had all the right clothes.

Thank goodness.

She had power clothes. He’d wanted low-key elegance followed by designer-maternity and upscale-housewife.

Ashley definitely did not have the right clothes to marry Reggie Lawrence.

She approached Jeffrey’s office and took a deep breath, bracing herself to take him on next.

Men.

When they weren’t trying to marry you off, they were throwing themselves in your career path.

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