Born to Be Wild, Page 2

  Maddie wrinkled her brow. “I didn’t realize you and Jake knew each other.”

  She was about to point out that Maddie didn’t know Jake either, until she remembered the brunette was now married to his twin brother. Technically, that meant Maddie had way more knowledge about Jake, who Bree hadn’t even spoken to in years.

  “We did go to high school together,” Bree said with a shrug.

  “Yeah, but I don’t remember you two hanging out much. Then again, I was a couple of years behind you, so I could be wrong.”

  No, Maddie wasn’t wrong. Bree and Jake hadn’t hung out—in public, anyway. The three months they’d spent together had been a totally private affair. Fucking in his pickup, fucking at the lake, fucking in Jake’s bedroom after she snuck in through the window. Pretty much just fucking everywhere. She couldn’t bring herself to call it anything other than that vulgar F-bomb, no matter how mind-shattering the sex had been. Sadly, their relationship had been strictly physical, something Jake had made painfully clear the night before he’d skipped town.

  God, she’d been such an idiot. Actually believing she and Jake had a future.

  But what had she really been expecting when she’d seduced the town bad boy?

  “No, you’re right. Jake and I weren’t close,” she lied. Swallowing, she glanced around the backstage area and caught sight of her mother, who stood in the wings like a statue, a frown carved into her mouth. Barbara Lockhart gave a brisk nod, a clear signal that she wanted a word with her daughter.

  “Excuse me,” Bree said to Maddie. “My mom has summoned.”

  Squaring her shoulders, she strode across the room, no question in her mind as to what her mom would say. And although Bree had just turned thirty last month, she couldn’t help but feel like a little girl who was about to be reprimanded by her mommy. That always happened when she was around her parents. Her entire life, she’d had to deal with their overly high expectations of her. Get good grades, go to law school, be successful. Marry a wealthy man.

  That last requirement ranked number one on their priority list, and Jake Bishop had never stood a chance of making the cut. Her parents had been absolutely furious when they’d discovered her involvement with Jake all those years ago.

  “Why did Henry Bishop’s son bid on a date with you?” Barbara demanded after she’d led Bree out of earshot.

  “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.

  Her mother pursed her lips. “I’ll talk to your father about getting you out of this.”

  Bree bristled. “Do I have to remind you that you and Daddy were the ones who talked me into this to begin with?”

  Talked into? Try forced. Or maybe bludgeoned was a better description.

  The last thing Bree had wanted to do on her first vacation in years was put herself up on the auction block, but when one of the bachelorettes dropped out at the last minute, her mother had begged her to step in. She’d hoped to spend the week working on her opening statement for the big case she had coming up, but Barbara had her methods when it came to getting her way. Methods that involved endless nagging and veiled threats. It had only taken two hours for Bree’s mother to wear her down, and in the end, she’d decided that a few hours of her time wouldn’t kill her, especially for a good cause.

  Now, with the disturbing notion of being alone with Jake hanging over her head, she wished she’d stayed in Denver.

  “I don’t want you spending time with that boy,” Barbara said coldly.

  “He’s not a boy, Mom. He’s a thirty-year-old man.”

  “He’s the boy that nearly destroyed my daughter’s future,” Barbara corrected, her blue eyes hardening to ice.

  “Jake had nothing to do with everything that happened.” She sighed. “I’m the one who screwed up, not him.”

  “Because he was a bad influence on you. Do I need to remind you that you nearly jeopardized your admission to Princeton because of him?”

  Because Bree had been so damn smitten with her bad boy that she’d let her grades slide. And blown off the SATs. Yep, she remembered. Fortunately, her father had stepped in and fixed the situation, she’d taken the test, pulled her grades up, and Princeton had been in the cards after all.

  “It was a long time ago, Mom. I haven’t seen Jake in years, and one dinner isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

  Funny, how she’d been trying to come up with a way to get out of this dinner, yet the moment her mother took the same stance, Bree ended up switching sides. Her parents always managed to trigger her rebellious side.

  “I’ll talk to your father,” Barbara said as if Bree hadn’t spoken.

  “No,” she replied firmly. “Seriously, Mom, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I agreed to do this for charity, and I don’t want to cost the foundation Jake’s donation. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should go find my date.”

  She left her mother and marched toward the side door that led out to the ballroom, wondering what the heck was wrong with her. Her mother, as irritating as she was, had a point. Jake was a bad influence on her. She’d nearly thrown away her entire future for the guy, caught up in silly fantasies that she and Jake Bishop might have a real shot. He’d quickly burst that bubble when he’d announced he was enlisting in the army right after graduation—and told her not to wait for him.

  It had hurt, but in the end, she’d realized he’d been right to cut her loose. She wanted more from her life than hot sex. She wanted a career, a husband, a family. Jake, with his impulsive nature and adventurous streak, would never have fit into that kind of life. They’d had the sex thing down to a T, but stability? Definitely not Jake’s strong suit.

  Stepping into the ballroom, she searched the crowd, needing to get this over with as soon as possible. So what if her body had been consumed with heat when she and Jake had made eye contact? She wasn’t a horny teenager anymore. She controlled her hormones now, not the other way around.

  Sighing, she weaved through the throng of people, then came to a standstill when she caught sight of Jake by the refreshment table.

  God, he looked good. Really, really good. A white dress shirt clung to his broad chest, black trousers encasing his long, trim legs. And his face—man, he’d grown even sexier with age. Ruggedly gorgeous features, gray eyes smoldering with seductive heat. The man oozed sex and masculinity. He always had, and probably always would.

  When their eyes locked, that same surge of desire she’d experienced on stage made a reappearance. Steeling herself against his potent maleness, she strode over to the drink table and managed a faint smile. “Hey, Jake,” she said, keeping her tone light.

  “Bree,” he said in that husky voice of his. His stormy silver eyes swept over her. “You look good.”

  She swallowed. “So do you.” So good that her nipples were already hardening against the front of her lacy bra.

  Damn it. Twelve freaking years later, and her libido still kicked up a notch in the presence of this man.

  “It’s been a long time,” he added.

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “How’s military life?”

  Something indecipherable flashed across his chiseled face. “Same as always. How’s lawyer life?”

  “It’s great,” she admitted. “I love my job.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Was he? Because as she recalled, he hadn’t seemed too concerned when he’d persuaded her to skip the SATs so they could spend the day in bed.

  Your fault, not his.

  Fine, there was some truth to that. Jake hadn’t forced her to miss the test. She’d done that all by herself. So wrapped up in his sexual spell that she’d been willing to drop everything for just one more second with him.

  God, back then she would’ve done anything for Jake Bishop. He was the guy who’d shown her how much fun life could be, that under the surface she was a good girl just waiting to be bad. And lord, she’d been bad. Not just in exploring her sexuality with Jake, but neglecting school, rebelling against her parents.

 
; But she was older now. Wiser. A successful lawyer, the proud new owner of a beautiful bungalow in Denver’s Cherry Creek neighborhood, a woman who was completely happy with her life.

  Yet as she looked into Jake’s hypnotic gray eyes, she realized that no matter how happy she was, her life still lacked one thing: Passion. She’d slept with other men since Jake, but she couldn’t remember the last time a man’s mere proximity made her heart gallop like a racehorse. Or when the simple sound of a man’s voice brought such a delicious ache to her core.

  Only Jake managed to evoke that response in her, which was really freaking annoying.

  “So…” She cleared her throat. “You didn’t have to spend a thousand bucks to have dinner with me, you know. If you wanted to catch up, we could have done it over breakfast at the diner, free of charge.”

  “Is that what you want to do tonight? Catch up?” His voice held a mocking note.

  Bree’s heart did a little flip, but she caught herself before her pulse sped off into oblivion. “It would be nice,” she said noncommittally. “I’d like to hear what you’ve been up to all these years.”

  “Really?” He edged closer and his masculine scent grabbed hold of her senses. Soap and spice and something woodsy. “So you want to listen to my anecdotes and share life stories?”

  “Y-yes.”

  He chuckled.

  The sound sent a shiver up her spine.

  “Come on, Bree, we both know conversation isn’t on the agenda for tonight.”

  Indignation hardened her jaw. “We haven’t seen each other since high school, Jake. Did you honestly think I’d take one look at you and fall into bed with you again?”

  “Yes.”

  Cocky bastard.

  But damn if her thighs didn’t quiver at the thought.

  You’re not a bad girl anymore. You never were.

  She lifted her chin, gathering up her resolve. No matter how gorgeous Jake was, no matter how much her body responded to him, she wouldn’t sleep with him tonight. That ship had sailed a long time ago, and falling back into old habits—bad habits—wasn’t something she could afford to do right now. She had an important lawsuit about to go to trial, a house she was still in the process of decorating, a life that didn’t include Jake Bishop.

  Or sex with Jake Bishop.

  “Sorry to disappoint, but the only thing that’s on the table is dinner,” she said firmly.

  The sultry heat of his silver eyes penetrated her body. “What happened to the Bree Lockhart who used to be up for anything?”

  “She grew up.” Bree rolled her eyes. “Evidently, you haven’t.”

  He flashed her a grin, that crooked badass grin that never failed in making her melt. “Growing up is overrated, sweetheart.”

  “If you say so.” She slanted her head. “So, dinner?”

  He shrugged. “Dinner it is.” He looked around the crowded ballroom, focusing on the auction in progress. The bachelors were taking their turns on the stage, but Jake didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in the festivities. “Wanna get out of here now?”

  Her heart skipped another beat and she had to chastise herself for getting excited. This was nothing more than dinner. Dinner between old friends. Old lovers. Just because Jake was eyeing her like he wanted to get her naked didn’t mean she’d let him. She was thirty years old, for Pete’s sake. A strong, resilient woman who could surely fight off the advances of one Jake Bishop.

  Right?

  “Sure,” she agreed. “But I’m serious, Jake, this is dinner.”

  He reached for her arm, and the warmth of his touch seared her skin and sent shockwaves of desire through her body. “Of course,” he assured her. The wolfish twinkle in his eyes totally betrayed his casual tone.

  “I mean it,” she insisted.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Bree gulped and followed him out of the ballroom.

  Chapter Two

  Jake wanted to lick every inch of Bree’s delectable body. Unfortunately, she was sitting all the way across the table, and there was all this damn food between them, acting like a barrier. He couldn’t believe how incredible she looked. And he’d forgotten how frickin’ smart she was. As she spoke in length about her latest case—a lawsuit against a pharmaceutical company that had knowingly sold defective drugs—it surprised him to discover that he was actually interested in everything she had to say.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Her soft voice drew him out of his thoughts. Jake met her eyes, then reached for his wine. The stem of the pansy-ass glass was too skinny, and he felt awkward holding the damn thing.

  “Jake?” she prompted.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know what I’m thinking,” he finally said.

  Her blue eyes flickered with irritation. “You haven’t changed at all.”

  “Should I have?” He smirked. “You always seemed to like me just the way I was.”

  “Rough, crude, complete lack of restraint, smartass remarks?” She tilted her head, causing her raven hair to fall over one shoulder. “It was all very exciting when I was seventeen. Not so much anymore.”

  “Bullshit.” He let out a deep chuckle. “You still like it.”

  Rather than answering, she pushed away her empty dinner plate and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin. The private room of Carlotta’s boasted a romantic candlelit atmosphere, complete with a red silk tablecloth, white roses, delicate china and expensive wine. But Jake wasn’t looking for romance. From the second he’d seen Bree again, he’d been thinking about nothing but sex.

  A wave of sexual nostalgia swept over him. “We were good together, weren’t we, sweetheart?”

  A rosy flush rose on her pale cheeks. “Can’t deny that.”

  Jake fingered the stem of his glass, noticing that her gaze was following the motions of his hand. “Remember the Derry Falls game?”

  Her cheeks went even redder. “No, not really.”

  “Sure you do.” He shifted in his chair, reaching down to subtly rearrange his growing erection. “The team stayed in the same hotel as the cheerleaders, you were on the second floor, I was on the third…we snuck away and met up in the bathroom…” He dragged his tongue over his lower lip. “I went down on you for nearly an hour in one of the stalls…ring a bell?”

  Her arousal was written all over her pretty face. Oh yeah, she remembered. Jake’s cock stiffened to full mast as the wicked images flashed across his brain. Bree leaning against the stall door, one leg lifted up on the toilet paper dispenser as she exposed herself to him. The feel of the linoleum floor beneath his knees as he bent between her legs and licked her up like an ice cream cone.

  “Jake, please,” Bree said, a wary expression on her face.

  “That’s right—you said that exact thing, over and over again.”

  She sighed. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Damn straight.”

  A smile tugged on the corners of her lush mouth. “We’re not teenagers anymore, Bishop.”

  He feigned an innocent look. “Adults can’t have sex?”

  “We can’t have sex,” she corrected. “I participated in the auction to help my parents out, not to get laid. If you wanted some action, you should have bid on Sandra Cohen. I hear she likes to do more than bake cookies.”

  Jake laughed. “I don’t want Sandra Cohen. I want you.”

  “Why?” Frustration laced her tone. “We don’t even know each other anymore. We had a fling when we were kids, and then we both moved on. I don’t have time for flings. I’ve got a life.”

  “Does that life include a boyfriend?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Does it include celibacy?”

  “Of course not, but—”

  “Then what’s the problem?” He shrugged. “You’re in town, I’m in town…aren’t you curious to see if the spark is still there?”

  Without letting her respond, he pushed his chair back and stood up. Bree’s eyes widened as he round
ed the table and sank to his knees in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” she stammered.

  “What do you think?” he muttered.

  And then he cupped the back of her head and brought her mouth down to his.

  Bree gasped, but he swallowed the breathy sound with his lips, tangling one hand through her hair to angle her head for better access. She tasted like red wine and the lemon chicken she’d had for dinner, and underneath, a subtle, sweet flavor that was uniquely Bree. He’d always loved kissing her. He’d done it often all those years ago. They’d made out everywhere—his house, behind the school, the alley between the diner and the barbershop, the woods, the meadow, the lake…everywhere. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her, just like he couldn’t now.

  Thrusting his tongue in her mouth, he kissed her senseless, while his hands roamed her body. He stroked her bare shoulders, her collarbone, her arms. Glided his palms over her breasts, gripped her hips. He would’ve liked to cup her ass, but she was sitting down, so he dragged his hands north again and fondled her breasts, squeezing the firm mounds and eliciting a moan from her throat.

  To his delight, Bree’s hands weren’t idle either. As their tongues danced and swirled, she stroked his stubble-covered jaw, then bunched the collar of his shirt between her fingers and brought him even closer.

  “Goddamn,” he muttered, wrenching his mouth away. “See, sweetheart, the spark’s still there, burning as strong and hot as ever.”

  “Jake—”

  He heard the note of protest and cut her off with another kiss.

  Bree could barely breathe. She was so turned on she couldn’t even remember her own name, and as Jake’s talented tongue explored her mouth, she couldn’t voice a single argument. God, he knew how to kiss. Knew how to touch, how to tease, how to do everything.

  The feel of his stubble scraping against her chin sent her back to the first time they’d made out, when she’d found him in the back of his pickup after the football game, drinking a beer and staring up at the stars. She didn’t know what had compelled her to climb up beside him, why she’d accepted that first beer he’d offered, and then the second, and the third. For a girl who got tipsy off a sip of champagne, three beers had done a number on her, and when she and Jake started kissing, every inhibition she’d ever possessed had dissolved like sugar in hot water.