“Hey, buddy, could you give a girl a ride in your new Corvette?”
Jack turned and his glass fell to the floor, shattering and splashing liquor on the carpet.
“Holy shit!” He swallowed hard and gaped at her, then burst out laughing. Not a little laugh. This was side-splitting, deep-from-the-stomach mirth.
Ruby frowned in annoyance, but went on weakly, “I told you earlier today that you would probably be wanting to find a young chippie in spandex.” Ruby wilted, beginning to feel extremely foolish while Jack laughed his stupid, bloody head off. “I just figured maybe I… maybe I could be that chippie,” she faltered.
“Chippie? Chippie? Oh, my God! Are you out of your mind?” Jack choked out, holding his side as if in pain. “Some chippie you make with mascara running down your face.” He burst out laughing again.
Ruby touched her hot cheeks. Her fingertips came away black.
When Jack’s laughter died down and he’d wiped his still-twinkling eyes, he asked in surprise, “Why are you crying anyhow?”
“I am not crying,” Ruby denied, even as tears streamed down her cheeks. She turned blindly to run back to the bathroom, mortified to have made such a fool of herself.
Jack caught up with her in the hall and pulled her back to the living room, struggling all the way. Finally he picked her up and held her in his steely arms to prevent her escape. She kicked him with her high heels, and he said a foul word, but would not release her. They both fell back, half on, half off the couch.
She continued to fight, and Jack forced both her arms over her head and held them down with his hands. He pinned her lower body to the edge of the sofa with his hips, his face buried against her neck. Ruby smelled his cologne and the sweet scent of honey from the baklava. She closed her eyes and ceased struggling for a moment, wanting to surrender to Jack’s glorious embrace.
But it wasn’t really an embrace, Ruby soon realized as Jack smiled against her neck, whispering, “Oh, Rube, you haven’t done anything this outrageous since the time you talked me into shaving your legs.”
“What? I did no such thing,” Ruby asserted indignantly, trying unsuccessfully to buck him off. “You are the one who seduced me with that idea.”
She felt his heart hammering against her breasts, and it felt so good. No, darn him, it wasn’t his heart; his chest was shaking with laughter again.
“Let me go,” she demanded on a sob.
Jack pulled away, just a little. His knowing look and gleaming eyes told her he’d been teasing. He’d known exactly who had seduced whom, could probably remember every damned enticing word he’d spoken to her that long, passion-filled night. A dazzling smile split Jack’s face as he looked down at her with amusement and… what? Ruby couldn’t quite figure it out.
“Your wig is all crooked,” Jack observed with a tilted grin, shaking his head in wonderment at the ridiculous sight she must be.
Ruby grabbed the wig off her head and threw it toward the fireplace angrily. Jack caught it deftly in one hand.
“I think I’ll save this. To remind me of this night,” he said dryly.
“Keep it. I don’t think I’ll want to remember anything about this day or night.”
Suddenly she felt so tired, exhausted to the bone. Lord, she just wanted to get out of this house, away from Jack and her embarrassment and pain, so she could lick her wounds in private.
Jack put his hands on her hips and expertly maneuvered her so she lay fully on the couch, and he followed her quickly, not allowing her to escape. He pinioned her struggling body down with his own, then held her wrists above her head with his left hand while he reached for a cocktail napkin with the other.
Gently, almost lovingly, he wiped the smeared mascara from her face with the napkin—a losing battle, because she began to cry in earnest.
Jack released her hands and rolled to his side, taking her with him. He put one hand on the nape of her neck and held her face in the crook of his neck. His other hand made wide, caressing circles on her back.