He couldn’t put her behind him. Not yet, anyway. It was time he stepped up the challenge.

He strode forward into the light surrounding the pool table. “Mind if I join the game?”

At the sound of his voice, Mallory groaned while the bartender turned his head to acknowledge the intrusion. “Bar’s closed,” he said.

Jack leaned an elbow on the wooden edge of the table and nodded at Mallory. “She looks like a customer to me.”

Mallory narrowed her gaze and shot him a scathing glance.

“She’s a guest of the house. You can come back tomorrow night. Drinks on the house.” The bartender turned his concentration back to Mallory, or rather, to her waist. He gripped his hands around the bare skin of her midriff, where her shirt had drifted upward.

Anger Jack hadn’t experienced in ages rushed to the surface along with another memory-of coming home early from school at age fifteen to find a stranger and his mother exiting the bedroom she shared with Jack’s father, the stranger’s hands on his mother’s waist as he helped her snap her pants closed.

But unlike his mother, Mallory didn’t giggle and lean closer. She stiffened and would have moved away but for the pool table in front of her and the bartender’s strong arms holding her in place. Whatever her earlier act, she was obviously through with the man now.

“Doesn’t look like she wants to be that kind of a guest.” Jack spoke through clenched teeth.

Sparks flashed in Mallory’s blue eyes, emotion and anger aimed at him. “She can speak for herself.”

She turned her gaze to the bartender and fluttered her lashes in a gesture Jack had never witnessed from Mallory before. “Looks like my friend doesn’t know when a lady’s playing hard to get, Jimmy,” she said in a lazy drawl. But she casually moved his hand away from her waist.

“You know this guy?” The bartender jerked a finger Jack’s way. From the sneer on the man’s face, Jack figured any hope he’d had of gleaning information about Lederman was long gone.

“We work together.” Mallory let out a long-suffering sigh and took a step back from Jimmy, tripping over his sneakered feet and nearly toppling to the floor in the process. Jack tried to reach for her at the same time as the bartender but she lunged onto the pool table and steadied herself first.

“Oops.” She let out an un-Mallory-like laugh. “Those darn Long Island Iced Teas.” She batted her eyelashes again and glanced at Jack. “Did you know they have a drink named after this area? Well sort of this area. Long Island Iced Tea. He makes them extra special,” she said, smiling at the bartender. “Think I can have the recipe?”

“I think you’ve had enough.” Jack had no doubt she wasn’t drunk, just trying to keep the bartender off balance and intrigued. He stepped forward and grabbed her elbow before his competition could get to Mallory first.

“Don’t you think the lady can decide when she has or hasn’t had enough?” the bartender spoke.

Mallory bestowed her sweetest smile upon him. “A man who respects a lady’s mind. I like that.”

“Did you forget our early morning meeting?” Jack asked pointedly. “With Mr. Lederman?” He tossed Jimmy’s employer’s name into the mix and got the reaction he’d hoped for.

Jimmy stiffened. “You work with Lederman?”

Mallory clenched her jaw, clearly unhappy with Jack invading her territory. “He’s considering using my firm. I thought I mentioned that.”

“Before or after you pumped me for information?”

Mallory shrugged and smiled sweetly. “I’m a people watcher by nature. You wouldn’t hold that against me, would you? Tell you what, why don’t we meet up again when he’s not around?” She elbowed Jack in the side.

Jack stifled a grunt but before he could speak, the bartender shook his head. “The boss’ll have my head for consorting with the guests,” he muttered. “Not that he wouldn’t appreciate your charms himself but I need this job.”

“Smart move,” Jack said, making note of his reference to Lederman’s taste for the ladies.

Jimmy scowled. “She’s all yours, buddy.”

“I’m not anyone’s,” Mallory muttered. “Especially his.”

Jack grinned. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying, do you sweetheart?”

The bartender cursed beneath his breath and headed back to the bar to clean up for the night. Obviously he didn’t like the idea of Jack getting the better of him, but when he put his testosterone aside, he knew his job came first.

Jack turned to his colleague. “Time to get you upstairs.” Without waiting for a reply he lifted her into his arms and over one shoulder. “See ya around,” he called out to the bartender who was still cursing and nursing his wounded pride.

Jimmy glanced over and caught sight of Jack’s caveman routine and Mallory’s flailing fists. He laughed hard. “Maybe you’re not so bad. You come by tomorrow,” he said to Jack. “Drinks are still on the house.”

Mallory punched helplessly at Jack’s back until the last shot hit a kidney.

Jack grunted. “You got it,” he called. “Maybe we can compare notes.”

“Put me down,” Mallory yelled at him.

The bartender laughed again. Jack left the bar and made a quick right to the bank of elevators. He had no desire to cause a scene in the lobby.

Once inside the private elevator, he deposited Mallory on her feet.

“Just in time.” She pulled down on her shirt and glared at him.

“I know.” Right before he’d freed her, he’d felt her soft hands inching inside the waistband of his jeans searching for the elastic on his underwear.

He burst out laughing. “An older brother teach you that dirty trick?”

She shook her head. “I’m an only child. And you were this close to singing soprano.” She held her thumb and forefinger together.

“I’d have to be wearing underwear for that weapon to work.”

Her eyebrows arched in surprise and her blue eyes darkened with the possibility he was telling the truth.

He leaned back against the chrome and mirrored wall.

A grin formed on her lips as she stepped closer. “Prove it.”

“What?”

Her fingers reached for the snap on his jeans as his breath caught in anticipation and desire. “You said no underwear. I want you to prove it.”

His groin, free from constraints except for the hard denim wanted to do just that, but he held on to her wrists and met her gaze.

Her face was inches from his, her warm breath with barely a hint of alcohol rushed over his skin.

“How’d you keep surfer boy’s hands off you?” he asked.

She tilted her head to the side. “Are you jealous? I admit he has a great body and a gorgeous tan, but…”

That did it. Jack silenced her with a kiss. It started slow but quickly blazed out of control. His tongue, her tongue, his groan, her heartfelt sigh-he couldn’t tell the difference as they melded together. Like a dying man at an oasis, he drank from her, taking all she offered, all she had to give. And he gave back in kind, until they parted, coming up for air.

Her dazed blue eyes opened wide. “You were jealous.”

He sucked in a deep breath of air. “Not a chance, sweetheart.” But his thudding heart called him a liar. He stepped back and contemplated her. “So how’d you keep the bartender talking and not groping?” He grasped for mundane conversation, anything to give him time to regain his equilibrium.

“I sat next to a huge potted plant in the corner, ordered drinks, nursed them while I inflated his ego, dumped them when he served other customers.”

He grinned. “You are something.”

She averted her eyes. “Why haven’t the doors opened yet?”

He glanced around for the first time and realized neither of them had pushed the button for their floor.

He punched in the button for the fifth floor. The mechanism kicked into gear and they began their ascent. “Elementary.”

“Then how come neither one of us thought of it?”

He reached out and fingered a strand of her hair. “Because we were distracted?”

“By your caveman routine. Which reminds me, don’t you ever carry me anywhere again.”

“Or what?” The doors opened and he escorted her out of the elevator, his hand on her back.

She paused to turn and meet his gaze. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson, of course.” Laughter danced in her eyes.

“Of course you would.” And he’d get himself another invitation. He hoped. “Give me your key. I’ll help you get the door.”

Her expression turned wary.

“Friends help friends, okay?”

She reached into her pocket.

“Let’s meet up for breakfast and discuss what you learned about Lederman. He left a message saying he’ll be back the day after tomorrow and I’d like to be prepared.” Although Jack was frustrated by the continued delay, part of him was grateful for the extra time alone with Mallory that Lederman’s absence provided.

“Can we make it lunch? I’m beat.” She pressed her card key into his palm.

“Sure thing.” Then, knowing exactly how she’d respond, he picked her up once more and tossing her over his shoulder, headed for her door.

She didn’t fight him. Instead she ran her fingers through his hair. “You’ll pay for that,” she murmured.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

THANKS TO MALLORY, Jack awoke early, something that was becoming a habit on this pseudo-vacation. After carrying her into her room and depositing her on the bed, he’d stayed for one lingering good-night kiss before making himself scarce.

But part of him wished they’d never met up at the hotel bar last night. Both the jealousy and caveman routine were foreign to him. He hadn’t recognized the blatant anger or possessive feelings Mallory aroused in him. Even as he’d realized her intent was to gain information from the bartender, the primal urge to carry her out and make an ass of himself had taken over.

After a long morning workout and soothing shower, Jack headed for the restaurant to meet Mallory. He took what had become his usual seat in the café, ordered black coffee, and rubbed a hand over his face, wondering when sanity would return.

When he caught sight of her talking with the hostess, he realized the answer was a resounding never. Jack was destined to live in this perplexing, arousing hell created by one Mallory Sinclair.

This morning she’d exchanged her navy dress for a gray one, and the bun for a clip that held her hair away from her face in an equally severe style.

He shook his head. Jack saw Mallory’s beauty inside and out, and his desire was no longer diminished by her deliberately harsh daytime appearance, yet his level of frustration with her duality grew.

Few male heads turned as she made her way to his table, and though Jack took pleasure in the fact that only he knew Mallory the seductress, a perverse part of him wanted other men to envy him for having this incredible woman by his side. He found himself wishing she’d show herself for the sensual woman she really was.

He was determined to find out the reasons behind the change.

True, she wanted to make partner in their male-dominated firm and saw downplaying herself as the means. And considering the old guard distrusted women and only grudgingly gave Mallory their respect, Jack understood. But he didn’t have to like it. She deserved to be acknowledged for her abilities and accepted as the woman he knew her to be-nothing hidden, nothing feigned.

Although why he cared so much about how she chose to handle herself, her appearance and career remained a mystery to him. So did the reasons she kept up the charade here and now.

“Hi.” As she slid into the chair across from him, the desire to free her hair and watch it spill over her shoulders grew stronger.

“Hi, yourself.”

She set her bag down by her side. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”

He slid his freshly poured, untouched cup across the table. “Go ahead, it’s on me.”

She treated him to a grateful smile, one that transformed her face with an ethereal glow and put light into her eyes. He wondered if he was the only one who could see beyond the heavy black frames to the sparkling blue gaze beneath.

“No contacts today?” he asked.

“Nope.” She shook the napkin out and placed it in her lap.

“Because it’s daytime.”

“Correct. What are you having for breakfast?”

“An omelette.” He didn’t want her to change the subject before he could dig deeper. “Would you wear contacts if you were on vacation?”

She shrugged. “I’m not on vacation, I’m working.”

“No one here is from the office.” He gestured around the tourist-filled room.

“Except you.” She gave him a penetrating glare.

Both the look and the point grated. “So you trust my silence for whatever happens between us at night, but you don’t trust me during the day?”