First Time For Everything

“An art you obviously don’t subscribe to,” he said, his level gaze not budging.

“In relationships you prefer women like yourself.” Biting back a smile, she went on, ignoring his dig. “Rules number one and two state they must be sensible and practical.”

“Wrong.” He leaned closer, bringing the gray eyes into sharper focus, and the breath stalled in her throat as her head spun from his towering proximity. “Those are numbers two and three,” he murmured. “Law-abiding is rule number one.”

Pinned in place by his look, the need to move grew unbearable. She crossed her legs and wiggled her dangling foot in agitation.

At five feet six, she’d never be considered outrageously tall. But he was six foot three, at the very least. And despite the easy tone and his almost-teasing words, there was nothing soft about him. He was all dark edginess, like a tightly coiled spring.

He’s too much for you, Jax. Just keep your fat mouth shut.

But she knew she wouldn’t. According to her friends, she lived with her heart on her sleeve. According to every foster family she’d ever been placed with, she simply lived with her foot in her smart-ass mouth. Realistically Jax knew the truth dwelled somewhere in between.

But the need to provoke him was too great.

Her leg stilled, and she adopted a wide-eyed, innocent air. “I still haven’t addressed the most critical issue. The age-old question—boxers or briefs?”

“I wouldn’t classify that as an age-old question,” he said, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, the first show of frank amusement.

Blinking hard, Jax stared at him. She’d thought it had been a fluke, but her first impression had been spot-on. He was extra hot when humored.

Fascinated, she continued. “Sure it is. Ranks right up there with the chicken-versus-egg question.” She noticed a small scar that disappeared under a dark slash of eyebrow, daring to mar all that perfection. “And the argument over which is more influential, nature or nurture.”

Intense interest flared in his face. “I wasn’t aware men’s underwear was as hotly contested as genes versus environment in forming personality.”

“In certain circles it is,” she said.

A droll skepticism crossed his face. “None that I frequent.”

“That’s not saying much. And as far as DNA and environment are concerned…” Jax’s face softened with the faded memories of her grandmother belting out the latest countrywestern song. “I’ve always believed we’re a unique combination of the two.”

Pursing his lips, his voice turned thoughtful. “I’ve always hoped we could overcome them both.”

Intriguing response. Very intriguing.

Troubled by the notion, she studied his scar, wondering about its origin. “Is that why you wear a suit? To overcome your DNA?”

The twinkle in his eyes grew brighter. “A better question would be, is psychoanalysis via underwear a required course as a music therapist?”

Amused, Jax swept a stray hair from her cheek. “No. But every choice you make reveals a little of your character. Today proves I lead with my heart.” She studied his endless legs, encased in what had to be custom-fit trousers, giving a decisive nod before going on. “You’re definitely a briefs man. You like everything neatly—” she lifted her gaze to his for effect “—contained.”

A quick flash of a devilish grin morphed from outrageously handsome to downright devastating, and the euphoric high it produced only made her miss the smile more when it was gone. Disturbed by the thought, she sent him a pointed look, and her voice lost the teasing tone. “Including your emotions.”

His scar shifted in surprise at her blunt statement, and she was almost ashamed she felt so smug about bringing the man down a notch.

Apparently, he didn’t agree.

“I think I’ll let the insinuation my emotions are contained in my underwear pass without comment,” he finally said. His faint smile was concerning. “Especially since my deal with my sister includes further contact with you.”

Confused, and more than a little alarmed, Jax frowned. “How does your deal with Nikki include further contact between us?”

“She didn’t tell you the details?” His tone implied he wasn’t at all surprised his sister had been less than forthcoming. “In exchange for helping you, she promised me she’d finally let me hire someone to move in with us and help her with her daily activities until she’s out of her cast.”

“And how does that affect me?”

He settled back and shot her a master-of-all-he-surveyed smile. “Because the live-in caretaker is going to be you.”

CHAPTER TWO

BLAKE WATCHED JAX go completely still before the refusal burst from her lips.

“No.” Clearly stunned, Jax froze for a few more seconds filled with silence before she continued, “Wait, let me put that another way,” she said leaning closer, bringing the smell of lemon shampoo and damp earth. “Hell, no.”

Fighting back a smile, Blake said, “That was eloquent.”

“That was clearer.”

“Why the emphatic refusal? Nikki told me the cut in funding has forced the club to shut down several programs, including yours. So obviously you’re in need of a job.”

“No, I’m in need of a plan to get the programs up and running again.” A furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “And no offense, Suit,” she said smoothly, but Blake got the sense she did mean to offend, “but I’m not in bad enough straits to accept a job that requires me to live in your home.”

The words lingered in the air between them as Blake held her gaze. Awareness seeped into the limo and saturated every molecule of air, making each breath suddenly feel heavy. And then Jax turned to face forward, effectively putting an end to the moment.

Part of him echoed her reluctance. But so far Nikki had fired the three people he’d hired to help. And she’d refused the limo service he occasionally used. Blake had nearly burst a fuse when he’d discovered his sister had driven herself to the flash mob in a cast.

A long leg cast.

Which was as reckless as the careless stunt that had broken her leg in the first place. It was amazing she hadn’t gotten herself killed today. And if he didn’t get Nikki to accept help from somebody, she’d wind up dead in a car accident, just like his father.

For a flickering moment, the memories flooded him and his chest grew tight, making breathing difficult.

Blake rubbed his forehead, easing the tension as he concentrated on the view out the tinted window. Palm trees paraded past like guards along the median. Cars eased forward in sporadic burps as the city reached the peak of the Friday rush hour. His sister was going to drive him stark, raving mad. The past few years had been tough, the two of them clashing more and more. Now he suspected she was doing things solely with the intent to tick him off.

And how could he concentrate on the biggest case of his career if he was living on pins and needles, dreading her next stunt? He needed someone to help Nikki, and the only one she’d agreed on was the hellion on heels.

He glanced at said hellion. Unfortunately, his fleeting impression at the courthouse had been dead-on. Jax Lee was trouble of monumental proportions. Impulsive. Headstrong. With a mouth to match.

Worse…everything about her made him hot.

Honey-colored hair, wild and unrestrained, hung in waves down her back, while the small tattoo on the inside of her right wrist enhanced her unruly air. And, as if that weren’t disturbing enough, her long legs were bare beneath the cutoffs. Her black cowboy boots were decorated with a line of red thread that twined around the ankles and climbed higher, as if wanting to hold more of her close; he knew the feeling.

Curbing his reaction had been doable until he’d discovered the sound body had indeed come with a sound mind, the sharp wit and keen intellect triggering a need the likes of which he could no longer ignore. Unfortunately, intellect did not equal common sense. Or sanity. Her amusing mouth was sassier than all his past girlfriends’ combined, but her reckless nature made her a risk.

A risk he had no choice but to take.

Pushing the doubts aside, Blake settled back and focused on the oddly enticing sight of her lightly jiggling foot. Obviously, the lady was incapable of holding still.

Or keeping her opinions to herself.