Jake (California Dreamy) - By Rian Kelley Page 0,29

you have plans for Thanksgiving?”

“I thought I did.” She explained about the upcoming conference and how important it was to Holly. She didn’t go into her sister’s injuries, not yet. “That takes place over Thanksgiving week.”

He nodded. “Do you ski?”

“As in snow?”

He nodded. “Downhill or cross-country. My sister lives in Montana and there’s bound to be a lot of snow at Thanksgiving.” He arched his eyebrows and let his sentence trail off as a

question.

“You’re asking me to come to Montana with you?”

“You said you have the time off.”

“Four days,” she said.

“Any chance you could stretch that into a week?”

“I don’t know.” She was slow to answer, reluctant to commit to something that was a long way off. “It’s hard to think about snow and turkey in the middle of August.”

“It’s hard to think about us in the snow and eating turkey,” he called it out, but his tone was thoughtful and not at all condemning.

“It’s scary,” she admitted, and added, only to herself, that she was afraid to want it. She knew that she did, and that the want could easily turn into a need as had her physical feelings for Jake.

“Ok, so for now we’ll leave it open.” He picked up his longneck and drank from it, eyeing Ivy over the bottle. “Our appetizer is here.”

The waiter set a platter on the table between them and the savory scent of lobster unfurled in ribbons of steam which Ivy was fast to inhale. She closed her eyes and let the seasonings of the sea tempt her.

“That smells heavenly.”

“Damn,” she heard him whisper and slowly opened her eyes. Jake was watching her and

she noticed that his skin had deepened in color.

“Do you always respond with all of your senses?”

“I like to enjoy experiences,” she said.

“I’ll give you something to enjoy,” he promised.

She allowed her gaze to remain locked with his for a long and heated moment. She didn’t give in to shyness or to fear and skitter away from the intimacy, but felt herself fall deeper into Jake’s eyes. A flush rose to the surface of her skin, her breath fluttered in her throat. “I don’t doubt it.”

Her words were barely a whisper, but he heard them and responded. Liquid fire seemed to jump in his eyes.

“I don’t want you to wait for this,” he said, and picked up the serving fork the waiter had left with the appetizer.

“I’ve waited long enough already,” she agreed.

Jake scooped a slice of the strudel, the lobster coated in a thin flaky phyllo dough and stuffed with caramelized onions and fresh bousin cheese, and slid it onto her plate. He did the same for himself.

Ivy brought a small bite of the delicacy to her lips and felt her mouth water, her eyelids drift shut as she took her first taste. She wasn’t deliberately baiting him, but she was aware that her approach to eating was unleashing in Jake a hunger that had nothing to do with caloric intake. The opposite, really. And she loved that. She listened to his breath thicken and wondered what was happening to other areas of his body. When she opened her eyes she found a visibly restrained Jake staring at her.

“This is costing you,” she said.

“I can’t decide if it would be easier on me if I helped you or if I just sat back and watched.”

“Let’s try it both ways,” she suggested. “You’ve watched, now let’s see what happens when you participate.”

Jake accepted the invitation, though his movements were slow. He never took his eyes off hers as he broke off a piece of the strudel and brought it to her lips. She noticed a slight tremor in his hand, that his skin had deepened further, and realized that discipline was deeply ingrained in him.

Ivy took the bite and when he tried to pull the fork back, she hung on a beat, two, and met his eyes in a firestorm of emotion.

He swore but it sounded more like a term of reverence.

“Two hours.” He spoke the words like they were an impossible feat.

“You have more discipline than me,” Ivy conceded. “More patience.”

“More experience,” he said. “And that means I’ve had more losses than wins. It’s enough to make me vigilant. It was enough…”

“So maybe you should go back to watching.”

He agreed, but said, “It wasn’t much better.”

“I could tie you to the chair.” She smiled, not so much at his discomfort, though she loved that she was the source of it, but at the image of a strong and