“What do you mean I’m stuck here?
“Exactly what I said. Unless you plan on sleeping in your car.”
I wet my lips, my thoughts still frantically circling. I can’t stay in this house with Jonas. I can’t. When it comes to him, I’ve already humiliated myself enough to last a lifetime. I can’t stay here. Not when I’m mostly naked and he looks really good, but he’s been very clear that he’s not interested in me. I should have enough restraint to take the rejection to heart, but there’s no reason to spend more time with him than strictly necessary. “I’ll get a hotel.”
Another of those exasperated sighs. “You can try, but it’s tourist season and even if they have a room, it’s a waste of money and time. You can stay here.”
“You only have one bed,” I blurt.
“Yeah, I noticed.” He scrubs his hand over his face. I must imagine the way his gaze rakes my body, because the next moment he’s back to normal. “You take the bed. The couch will work well enough for one night.”
“Jonas, I can’t just take your bed.”
“You can and you will. Even if you can find a room to rent, any kind of traveling isn’t safe in this kind of storm. You’ll drive right off the road and no one will find you for hours—possibly days. You’re staying here and that’s final.”
I’ve seen the stubborn look on his face before, six years ago in my father’s study when he oh so carefully rejected my advance. I didn’t prevail then, and something tells me I’m not going to prevail now, either. Just like I won’t when it comes to recruiting him for the Henderson account. Frustration boils up within me. “Fine. I’ll stay here tonight—on one condition.”
“I’m not negotiating.”
My frustration gains teeth and claws. “Aren’t you?” I head for the door. I realize how ridiculous this is, how he won this argument the moment I changed out of my wet clothes and into his T-shirt. Leaving means abandoning my favorite pair of heels. It doesn’t matter. I’m angry and I’m proving a point.
Jonas doesn’t grab me. He doesn’t try to get between me and the door. He just brings me short with two words. “Stop, Blake.”
My body responds to his command even as my brain rails at the fact that he holds even this little amount of power over me. I thought I exorcised it long ago. I turn to face him. “I’ll stay, but we’re going to talk about it.”
“I already said—”
I wave that away. “Not about the deal.” Reckless. I am being so reckless. If there’s a chance to convince him to take this job, I shouldn’t be throwing it away by bringing up the one thing guaranteed to make working together awkward. But then, I’ve always had a bit of an impulse control issue and I can only take so much bullshit before it raises its ugly head and gets me into trouble. “About that night.”
Jonas’s gaze flares hot before he shuts it down. And he does shut down his initial reaction; I’m watching him closely enough not to miss it this time. “There’s nothing to talk about. You were a child and it shouldn’t have gotten as far as it did.”
I blink. A child. That’s how he saw me? No wonder he broke that kiss, patted me on the head, and sent me on my way. “It was six years ago, not sixteen. I was twenty-two. Hardly a child.”
“You were too young.”
But I’m already shaking my head. “You were forty, not seventy. This argument doesn’t make sense.”
I don’t realize Jonas is moving until he’s right in front of me. I take a step back without meaning to, a pure reflex, and he follows me. So I do it again. We engage in this strange little chase until my legs hit the couch and I lose my balance, landing on my ass on the cushion. Jonas follows me down, bracing his hands on the back of the couch and towering over me. “Listen closely, Blake because I’m only going to say this once.”
My smirk is pure bravado. “Your high and mighty grandfather sage tone is really impressive.”
He gives me a long look and I have the sneaking suspicion that he’d like nothing more than to put me over his knee and paddle my ass for mouthing off. The very thought sends a bolt of heat directly to my core. We didn’t get very long alone on that night, barely enough time for a short conversation and an illicit kiss. Not nearly long enough for me to realize I might get a perverse enjoyment out of pushing Jonas’s buttons.
He makes a rumbling sound that might be a low laugh and might be just a flat out growl. “You father is my best friend and, at the time, he was my boss. What the fuck do you think I was going to do when his precious little princess rubs herself against me and kisses me?”
“I don’t know, Jonas,” I match his dry tone. “Fuck her like she wanted you to.”
The muscles in his arms stand out and I don’t have to look to know that he’s white-knuckling the back of the couch. “You were a baby and you are my best friend’s daughter. Fucking you was never on the menu.”
“Don’t infantilize me. I knew what I wanted and I went for it. If you’re not into me, that’s fine, but don’t act like I didn’t know exactly what I was doing when I kissed you.” I’m getting angry now, truly angry. “And yeah, you might be friends with my dad, but that doesn’t make you my dad.” I glare. “Unless you want me to call you Daddy, in which case I’ll consider it.”
“Blake.” Oh, the warning in his tone.
He’s close to snapping and I’m a bitch because I want to keep mashing that button until he explodes. What will happen when he does? Will he rip off my clothes and fuck me right here on this couch? Will he haul me out of his house and slam the door in my face? I don’t know, and because I don’t know, I can’t stop myself from inciting him. “Jonas.”
“I might be an asshole, but even I have lines. Fucking the college-aged daughter of my friend and boss under his roof crosses that line.”
He’s right, and I know he’s right, but that doesn’t stop me from saying, “We’re not under his roof now.”
Jonas pulls back the tiniest bit, staring down at me like he’s sure I’m joking. I should be joking. If sex was a bad idea at that Christmas party six years ago, it’s an even worse idea now. If I want him to say yes to working with me for this account, fucking him will muddy the waters irreparably. And if I do and then he says yes and it gets out…
Our industry isn’t particularly large. I’ve never worried overmuch about image or tried to play a role to get me ahead. But even I can’t deny that reputation matters.
Why would it get out?
I shut down the little voice, because I can already see the answer written all over Jonas’s face. The rejection. He sure does like telling me no, and he confirms it when he shoves back. “No.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, Blake.”
“I get it. Really, I do.” My body might be a little slower to come to terms with it. A steady heat pulses through me and I feel simultaneously too light and far too anchored in my skin. I push to my feet and try not to hold it against him when he takes a measured step back as if determined to preserve the distance between us. “I think it’s best I, uh, go to bed.” It’s not late, but the alternative is staying in his presence a moment longer than strictly necessary. I’ve already proven I have garbage self-control when it comes to this man. There’s no need to press my luck any further.
“Yeah,” he says slowly, and he really needs to stop watching me like that because it’s getting the wires crossed in my head. “Do you need anything out of your car?”
“My bag. I—”
“I’ll get it.” He’s gone before I can argue, leaving me blinking after him. I have the sneaking suspicion that Jonas just ran from me, but I can take a hint. Eventually. I have a healthy self-esteem, but I have no desire to keep throwing myself at a guy that’s rejected me twice. No matter how sexy he is or how he watches me like he wants to consume me whole. I look at pumpkin donuts the same way, and I don’t want to fuck them.
Jonas returns a few moments later and, from the way his white shirt is plastered to his chest, it’s still raining hard outside. The fabric clings lovingly to the curves of his pecs and the… No. No, no, no. I am not going to stand here and ogle him, and I’m certainly not going to let my eyes linger at his hips to see if there’s a cock imprint on his jeans.
Instead, I snag the bag out of his hands and flee upstairs.
