“I’ve never seen anyone blush so beautifully,” he said, leaning over to put the pen on the table. And then his mouth was scant inches away, his warm breath fanning across the tender skin beneath her ear.
She froze. What was she supposed to do now? If she moved even a little, they’d touch. His lips… She couldn’t faint now. She’d die. Only, she’d forgotten how to breathe.
“Amelia,” he said, so softly she might have wished it. “I know who you are, Amelia.”
Her heart stopped. The whole world stopped.
She felt his lips touch the shell of her ear. An almost-kiss. She quivered right down to her toes.
He pulled back, stood straight, captured her gaze. He didn’t say another word. He just smiled before he walked away. To the door. Outside.
She collapsed. Not on the floor or anything. Mostly inside. Her heart resumed beating, her lungs filled with air, but she was boneless, weak as a kitten.
What in the world had just happened? Had she finally gone mad? Jay Wagner couldn’t have… He wouldn’t have…
Her gaze darted to the table. To the pen. Evidence! Then she turned quickly to the girl on the Power Mac. There. Proof. No one ever looked at her that way. She never made anyone jealous.
Okay, so it had been real. But how? Why? He’d known her name. He’d flirted with her.
It was flirting, she felt sure of that. Especially the whispering part. It was exactly the way she’d pictured it. Only a thousand times scarier. More wonderful. There had to be a fairy godmother floating around Washington Square, because this kind of thing simply didn’t happen. She was Amelia. She was invisible.
Not anymore.
JAY WALKED INTO HIS OFFICE and slammed the door. He grinned as he sat down on his battered leather chair. Sliding down, he put one ankle over the other, crossed his arms and congratulated himself.
This was excellent. She was even prettier up close. Her perfume had knocked him for a loop, which was some trick, because the scent was as subtle as a rose behind a fence. Everything about her was subtle, almost hidden. The green of her eyes. The way her lips curved. The sound of her sigh.
It was like finding buried treasure. A far cry from the women he’d been with in the past few years. They’d mostly been into bikes, into leather, into hot, sweaty sex at four in the morning. Which wasn’t a bad thing. But it sure as hell wasn’t subtle.
Amelia Edwards would need a deft touch. Before she knew what to make of him, he’d have her in his bed. God, he wanted to see her naked. She was a mystery, and that appealed to him like no one’s business. Shy as a fawn, delicate as a butterfly… And so filled with desire she didn’t know which way was up.
He’d show her, all right. He’d take care of the education of Amelia, and he’d love every second of it. Damn, it was good to be a humanitarian.
He laughed as he rubbed his hands together, and he thanked the inventor of the computer and the wonderful folks who brought TrueConfessions.com to life.
He turned to his monitor, sitting proudly on top of two motorcycle manuals. Good Girl’s latest entry still shimmered on the screen.
What if I dropped something? And he picked it up? And our fingers touched. Sparks, electricity. Magic. Our eyes would meet and he’d smile, but not his regular smile. This one would hold surprise, would ask a question. I’d smile back in answer. Yes. My interest is real. Then he’d ask me my name. Sit at the edge of the table. See me. Not the blush, not the fear, but me. The part of me that is desire. That is passion. He’d touch my cheek and the caress would last, and it would stoke the flames inside us both. He’d lean over. Kiss me gently on the lips.
He’d been damn close. Any more on the nose, and she’d have put two and two together. Which wasn’t going to happen if he could help it. This was the best thing to come his way in months. Hell, maybe years. It was an adventure, and he felt his blood stir with the challenge. He felt alive for the first time in a long while.
The Amelia project would move to the next phase, as soon as he figured out what that was going to be. He needed her a bit off balance. So he’d wait. Even though he didn’t want to. He’d wait.
In the meantime, he had all her fantasies to memorize. One in particular had kept him awake last night. An early entry, almost a year old. Only, he didn’t believe she’d been coming to the café for a year. She must have used another computer. It didn’t matter, except that the fantasy was about a biker. A man in black leather. A Harley. Was it a coincidence? Or had he simply not seen her back then? He’d asked Brian if he remembered, and his friend swore she’d only been coming there for five months.
If the fantasy predated her going to the café, it made things a lot more interesting. He’d stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago. Although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, especially his family, he believed there was a master plan.
Assuming it was a plan, how did he fit into it? Had she conjured him up? Or did she want him because he reminded her of her fantasy?
He wasn’t going to figure it out tonight. He might never know, and that was no big deal. What did matter was that she wanted him, and he wanted her, and she’d never been on a bike in her life, and he was going to take her places she’d never dreamed about.
3
“YOU SURE you don’t want to come to the party?” Kathy couldn’t quite mask the pity in her gaze.
“No, but thanks.” Amelia smiled, pretending the look was something else. “You know I don’t mingle well.”
“But you could learn. I think if you’d just let yourself, you’d do fine. Amelia, this is supposed to be the best time of your life. And you’re spending it doing other people’s dishes.”
Stung, Amelia doggedly held on to her smile. “I’m not like you, that’s all. It doesn’t mean I’m miserable.”
“Yeah, but aren’t you lonely?”
She couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer. Her smile faded along with her self-confidence. “Yes. I am. But it’s not fatal.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Amelia walked over to the door of the bedroom she and Kathy shared. Her side of the room was immaculate. Kathy’s was Martha Stewart’s worst nightmare. “Hurry up. You’re going to be late. And you’ve only tried on three-quarters of your wardrobe.”
Kathy’s gaze went to her own reflection in the mirror. She was gorgeous. Actually, all three of Amelia’s roommates were beautiful. Kathy had pale blue eyes that flashed with humor. Her dark hair flowed to her shoulders, and she always knew how to make it look sensational. All that combined with her size-six figure—no wonder she had more men than she could handle.
As Amelia turned toward the living room, she heard the clunk of shoes hitting the floor. Kathy putting on wardrobe-change number five hundred.
The music grew louder as she walked past Donna and Tabby’s room. Tabby, tall, stunning, with gently curved brown hair, was bent double, her hands flat on the ground, her knees locked. Not that her position was anything unusual. Tabby was the most limber creature Amelia had ever seen. They’d be chatting or watching TV, and Tabby would lift her leg straight up in the air and hold it there. It was amazing. All her men friends seemed to think so, at least.
Looking past Tabby, Amelia caught sight of Donna’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. She had the mascara wand to her lashes and was patiently painting layers of dark black goo. It took her hours to do her makeup, which confused the hell out of Amelia. Granted, she wasn’t one to wear makeup, but she knew the basic principals. There wasn’t that much to do, considering Donna didn’t have many flaws to begin with. She was the only blonde in the group.