Room Service

throat to hold her face. It all simply undid her.

Finally, when he’d thoroughly ravished her with the kiss, he raised his mouth a fraction and opened his eyes, filled with a searing heat and desire and that ever-present wry amusement.

“What could possibly be funny?” she demanded, her knees still shaking.

“It’s just that you kiss like you think.”

She blinked. “I what?”

Again, that fleeting smile, the one that flashed his dimple and crinkled his drown-in-me eyes. “You, Emmaline Harris, are a series of contradictions. You dress like a businesswoman, for instance.”

“I am a businesswoman.”

“But you have a very carefree, come-what-may streak. It’s sexy as hell, you know.” He ran his thumb, rough with work calluses, over her lower lip, which was still wet from his mouth. She had to stifle the urge to suck the pad of it into her mouth.

What was happening to her? She’d always managed to go for stretches of time without thinking about sex. Or having sex. She’d slept with her last boyfriend-what had it been?-only four months or so ago. Not so long. Surely not long enough for this overwhelming longing, this heartbreaking ache to be sweeping through her body at the mere touch of his mouth or thumb.

“I see,” she said, but she didn’t. She had no idea where he was going with this, or where she wanted him to go with this, and yet when he spread his fingers over her jaw, she turned her face into his palm, pressing her lips there.

“I’m not sure what it is about you,” he murmured, his voice a little husky now. “You talk like a schoolteacher. A little uptight, a little reserved.”

Uptight? Reserved? She lifted her face away from his touch to look at him.

He smiled. “And yet you think things, things that have your eyes smoldering, things that bring heat to your face. Things that make me hot, Em.”

She stared at him, no longer sure what she was feeling, though it caused her tummy to quiver and an embarrassing dampness to gather between her thighs.

“A contradiction,” he whispered in that Southern honey of a voice that, along with his knowing smile, made her think of Matthew McConaughey in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. “Still up for caffeine?”

“Please.”

He took her hand. As they began walking again, his long-legged easy stride eating up the sidewalk, she risked a quick sideways glance at him. What was she doing? She needed to get across the fact that she wanted him to host her TV show, and yet all she’d done so far was stare at him dreamily.

And kiss him. Let’s not forget that. Sheesh. Good going.

“Here we are,” he said, and stopped in front of a small hole-in-the-wall Irish pub called Patrick’s.

Em stared at the Celtic sign swinging from the eaves. “But…it’s ten in the morning.”

“Yep.” He opened the door for her.

She stepped inside, and was surprised. Even at this hour, the pub was filled, and with the mahogany bar and raw-wood floors and ceiling, the place felt warm and welcoming, exuding a natural charm. The conversation that greeted them was a good-natured mixture of gossip, wit and discussion. She could imagine sitting here comfortably with a drink, and when she looked at Jacob, could also imagine him perfectly at home in the middle of a brawl right there on the floor.

As if he’d read her mind, he grinned. “I’ve been known to escape here now and then.”

“Isn’t there a bar right in the hotel? Erotique, right?”

“Yes, but I feel more at home here.” He pulled her up to the bar.

A woman came out of the back, sixtyish, with hair the color of a bright red crayon piled high on top of her head. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, with an apron that read, If Your Order Hasn’t Arrived Yet, It’s Probably Not Coming.

“Jacob, my love,” she said with a heavy Irish accent and a surprised wide smile. “You came to cook up me day’s special again!”

“That was for your birthday, Maddie.”

“Damn.” She sighed mightily. “I had a real hankering for one of your omelets…” Only someone with great love for someone else could lay on the guilt so thick.

Jacob looked at Em. “Em, meet Maddie. She owns this place and runs it with an iron fist, so watch out.”

Maddie tossed back her head and laughed. “I’ll iron fist you, boy. And don’t think I can’t.” She hugged him hard, her head barely coming up to his chest. Then she pulled back and smacked his chest. “Now how about that special?”

Arm still around Maddie, Jacob looked at Em.

“I don’t mind,” she said, curious at the obvious great affection between the two of them.

“See, the girl doesn’t mind.” Maddie smiled innocently. “And then there’s the added bonus of letting her see your soft side.” She laughed again, and so did Jacob, as if they both found the possibility of Jacob having a soft side extremely funny.

“Come on, then,” Jacob murmured to Em, leading her behind the bar, to the back. “Since you’ve let her get her way, there’ll be no living with her.”

Making himself right at home in the postage-stamp-size kitchen that had to be poorly equipped compared to what he was used to, he grabbed a pan and set it on the stovetop. Then he opened the refrigerator and said, “Heads up.”

Em barely caught the red pepper he tossed her, and then the green one. And an onion- “Hey.”

He straightened, his hands full with a carton of eggs and a hunk of cheese. Before her eyes, he chopped and diced and mixed it all up, hands moving quickly and efficiently, like a well-honed machine. God, was there anything sexier than watching a man in the kitchen? He caught her looking, and flashed her a dimple and a wink as he tossed the ingredients into the sizzling pan. And in less than two minutes, he was flipping an omelet in the air and then back into the pan.

Em couldn’t tear her eyes off him. He wasn’t just regular sexy, but beg-him-to-take-her sexy.

Maddie came into the kitchen in time for Jacob to hand her a loaded plate. Her carrottop hair wobbled as she leaned over the plate and took a bite, then grinned broadly. “Jacob, me boy, you’ve outdone yourself. I don’t suppose you’re going to do the dishes?”

Jacob laughed and led Em back to the front to her bar stool.

Maddie followed them out, still chewing. “Well, hell. I suppose I have to serve you now.”

“We’ll have two coffees,” Jacob said. “Unless I need to brew that, too?”

“Smart-ass.” Maddie moved back into the kitchen.

Jacob looked over at Em, his eyes full of laughter and mischief and memories of their kisses, maybe? Just thinking about them made the heat rush to her face, and to other parts of her body. “Jacob.”

“Em,” he said with mock obedience.

“I, uh, might have given you the wrong idea back there.”

“Back there…”

“Outside.”

He just looked at her.

Damn it. “When we kissed.”

“Ah.” He nodded seriously. “And what idea would that have been?”

“That I intend to sleep with you.”

He arched a brow. “And you don’t.”

“No. I’m sorry.” No matter that you’ve made me so hot my skin is steaming. “I don’t.”

Maddie came back with two mugs of coffee. Jacob didn’t say anything while Em doctored hers up with sugar, lots of it, and cream. Not sure what to say, or how to get back to broaching the subject of her TV show, Em looked around her. The place had mismatched chairs and flooring that had probably been there for fifty years, yet was scrubbed to a shiny clean, as were all the surfaces. The crowd was much older than Hush’s, and most were eating,