Jac was usually the chattiest person in the room. But he was eerily quiet before, during, and after one of the most delicious meals Rose had ever had. After Chef Peretz’s presentation, Rose and Jac had been escorted to the dining room where they’d had an eight-course meal with things like seaweed foam on perfectly seared scallops fresh from the sea that day with tiny, candied bacon embedded into them. The meal had been something beyond Rose’s dreams. And Jac was appreciative and complimentary to the staff of Yael, but he barely shared one word with her the whole night. The whole day, for that matter.
As they drove away from the restaurant, the blue-black night surrounding them through the glow of the city, Jac talking to Boaz about the seaweed foam in excited tones, Rose knew that once they had an ounce of privacy, she had to speak to him about going back to Montana. This was insane. Clearly. He’d come to resent her. Clearly.
She should just book him a ticket and be done with it.
“How did you like the meal, Ms. Standing Deer?” Boaz asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. He was just as Jac had described him—young, smart, funny, incredibly personable. But she wasn’t sure if that last part wasn’t because of Jac. He approached the world without an ounce of guile or cynicism. His beautiful smiling face he offered to everyone, as well as his instant friendship. People loved him, and Boaz was no exception. Also, Jac, so thoughtful, had bought Boaz a dinner similar to their own, the scent of the gourmet food lingering in the air of the SUV.
“Oh my gosh,” Rose said. “It was probably the best meal I’ve ever had.” Since when did she start sentences with “oh my gosh”? When she was thirteen, that’s when. What was happening to her?
“Yeah?” Boaz said helpfully, probably to draw her out from her shell.
Once the meal was over and Rose had pieced together Jac’s quietness and his avoidance of eye contact as probably resentment, she’d gotten quiet herself. She was humiliated and ashamed of herself, which had made her feel like she’d been blasted by sand in her eyes. She kept blinking the grit away, but nothing seemed to help.
Something was wedging itself in her throat, but she cleared it and said, “I really liked the seaweed foam too. It was perfectly salty with just a little bit of…um…”
“Earthiness?” Jac offered.
She caught his eye, trying to convey how sorry she was for what she’d done. His gaze flicked away but suddenly returned to hers. His lips twitched, a smile growing, when his eyes fluttered down at her dress. Rose glanced down herself. She’d lost weight since Lily had passed away, more than she’d realized, and her usual simple yet elegant LBD with spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline that slid into a slitted, flowing skirt was looser than usual. She expected to see a stain on the dress with the way Jac had looked at her, but instead she saw her neckline slightly yawning open over her left breast. Jesus.
She straightened, the fabric tightening around her chest. Just how much had he seen? She wasn’t wearing a bra because at this weight there was no need. But god. It wasn’t bad enough that she’d forced him on this trip, where she’d yet again made him sleep with her, and now she was offering up her bare body. Just how much could she humiliate herself? Apparently, a lot.
She made a cursory look at Jac, seeing pink climb all the way up to his eyes, making the blue that much more bright. He’d probably seen a lot. Well, fuck. And shit, and balls.
“Earthiness, huh?” Boaz said, reminding her that at least someone in this vehicle hadn’t seen her partially naked in the last few seconds.
“Ye-yes,” she said and had to clear her throat yet again, subtly—at least she hoped—pressing a forearm over her boob to keep the fabric in place.
“You should eat it,” Jac said. He had to clear his throat too and raked a hand through his wavy blond hair, messing up what had been combed down for dinner. “Right now before the foam melts.” He leaned forward. “Pull over, Boaz. You have to try it.”
Boaz laughed, thinking Jac was joking, but Rose knew he wasn’t. Rose also knew that Boaz wouldn’t feel comfortable eating in front of them, the people paying for him to drive them around, so she wracked her brain puzzling how to fulfill Jac’s wishes that Boaz eat.
“Oh!” she said far too loudly, though proud of herself for thinking through the fog of humiliation that was her current life. “A night market is close by, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Boaz said, being far more formal with her than with Jac who he called by his first name and they chuckled at each other’s jokes and slapped each other’s shoulders.
“Jac and I could grab some ice cream while you eat.” She leaned forward too but kept her forearm pressed against her chest, a hand on her jawline in the effort to make the pose look natural. “You really do have to try the foam before it melts.”
“That’s so kind of you, but—”
“No buts,” Jac said, finally glancing at Rose. “We won’t take no for an answer, will we, Rose? You’re going to eat in front of us and we’ll watch you and make you feel very uncomfortable.”
Rose couldn’t help but giggle as Boaz did too. “With an offer like that, how can I refuse?” he said.
Jac reached out and clapped Boaz on the shoulder as he laughed. In so doing, he’d leaned that much closer to her. He was smiling. She was smiling. His gaze caught hers. She felt warmth infiltrate through the coldness of her humiliation. It felt so, so good. Then his eyes traveled down her body again. She watched as his pupils exploded and grew, nearly taking over his vivid blues.
He glanced away, leaning back in his seat, pink claiming his cheeks once more, but his lids were half hooded. His nostrils flared while his smile fell away. Though it was difficult to discern through his beard, she thought he was gritting his teeth, his jawline bulging. His whole body changed, morphed before her eyes. The chords at the front of his neck stood out, the huge muscles between his neck and shoulders bunched and rippled, his deltoids seemed to grow and widen.
She had a bout while traveling back and forth to Japan for an especially grueling deal where she’d read just about every were-creature paranormal romance book there was, and she felt like she was watching one in real life. Jac was a big man, even at his smiling, jovial best. But he was positively giant with tension radiating out of him, his muscles contracting through the light blue Oxford he wore—he’d taken off the suit’s jacket after dinner, saying he was too hot to wear it.
He wrenched at the orange paisley tie she’d gotten him for dinner since the restaurant had a dress code, and he’d left all his ties behind in Denmark. He’d tied it in an impeccable half Winston, which Rose was beyond impressed with, forgetting that before he’d been her mother’s farmhand, he’d worked in a rather upscale environment—a certain search engine who shall remain nameless. Though he said the office dress code was casual at work and they had scooters and bikes to play around with during breaks, he had several meetings with Denmark government officials, which meant he had some rather swanky suits. He was loosening the tie, clearing his throat again.
Any other man in the world, and Rose might assume what Jac was displaying was a clear case of attraction. To her. But this was Jac. Men like Jac—kind, unselfish, thoughtful, smiling—were not attracted to her. Especially once they got to know her. She had her pick of the handsome assholes. Sexy, superficial dickheads who wanted sex and her power, those were the kind of men who wanted her. She’d figured that out early on. But men like Jac, once they heard her talk or swear or make a $100 million deal, treated her like she was a freak of nature. They treated her like she was something scary—a Sasquatch in a pants suit. There was Tim who had been a somewhat nice man, she’d thought. They’d dated for more than just three outings, her usual. Tim’s family were heirs to a rather well-known mustard company, but his father had made his own money with real estate development and Tim had been his protege. They’d dated for three months before he said, “You’re just so…intimidating.”
She’d tried three other “nice” men—Nathan, Daniel, even a Brad—but they all broke up with her saying the same exact thing. She knew that her grand plan would require sacrifices. She was performing a job she hated—although, sometimes outbidding a selfish asshole did make her day—traveling so often she’d forget where she was, her friendships getting distant and cold because she worked such long hours she couldn’t focus on very much outside of making deals. Yes, she knew about the sacrifices. She just hadn’t expected men to be so frighteningly intimidated of her that they couldn’t stand her, treated her like some unnatural creature who was just a little disgusting.
So she realized that a romance, any kind of romantic infatuation at all, was out of the question. And forget about romantic love. That was laughable because of who she was, some bizarre monster who Forbes loved to get quotes of while also exoticizing to the point where she wasn’t a human any longer. When she’d had that realization about romance, she decided to work harder on her friendships and mother—to get some kind of love out of this world. That’s when Laney had started seeing Joe. Joe was all kinds of amazing, but it meant that Laney had that much less time for her. And then Charli had Luc, another wonderful man. Rose couldn’t be happier for her friends. But it meant their friendship had changed. Rose was not needed. She knew it viscerally.
Only Lily had needed her. And now she was gone. Rose realized shortly after her mom’s death, that any kind of love from this world might not be coming to her. Oh sure, her friends loved her. Her friends who were tough on her right after her mother had passed away. Her friends who had very little time for her with their new romantic loves.
And Rose tried to content herself with the love from her tribe. Once she gave them everything, they might love her even more—though she knew their love was unconditional and didn’t operate like that. But the story we tell ourselves has a funny way of retelling itself, a continual loop, even if we know it’s a lie.
So yes, she knew what was going on with Jac was not attraction, no matter how her brain kept telling her otherwise. No, it wasn’t her brain telling her that. It was her own attraction to him. But she knew men like him didn’t like women like her. Hell, from the get-go she’d yelled at him and given him an hour-long lecture. Jac could not in the least be attracted to her. She was getting daffy for even considering it.
Boaz pulled over and parked, somehow landing a primo spot near the beach.
“Jac, you find a table and watch Boaz while he eats”—that earned her a laugh from both men—“while I grab us some ice cream.” She caught Jac’s gaze once more, focusing on him, wishing there was some way he could reciprocate the attraction she felt but knowing he never would, which caused her heart to wither a little more. “Is blueberry still your favorite?”
Jac’s brow wrinkled for a second. “You remember that?”
She rolled her eyes. Everyone thought she was too busy to notice anything about anybody. It was a tad insulting. “Of course. If they don’t have blueberry will any berry do?”
Jac tugged off his tie while looking at her, then slipped the top button of his shirt through the hole. It wasn’t a sexy move. It wasn’t meant to be sexy. At all. But his big fingers doing something so dexterous, his thick neck that much more revealed—it was the sexiest thing Rose had ever seen. Her nipples tightened, her breasts felt heavy. Liquid heat filtered down from her spine to reside between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together.
He glanced down at the small movement of her legs. It had been instinctual, meant to abate the golden lust that had popped its inappropriate head up. But it only made her sex throb, a dark velvet energy licking against her clit. His lids hooded again, the blue of his eyes gone. Just glittering blackness resided now. His gaze ventured upward but slowed while over her breasts for a second too long.
“Any berry will do.” His voice was huskier than usual, his eyes finally meeting her own. “Or you can surprise me. You know what I like.”
She nearly sprinted out of the car, confused and perhaps getting nuttier by the minute, wondering what was going on with Jac. No, she did not know what he liked because in her daft mind, she thought he might like to lick her. But that was…no, that couldn’t be. He was good and kind. No man like that would want her. Actually, he was the best and kindest person she’d ever met, outside of her mother. He above all other men would especially not want her.