problems?”
“Has it ever.”
She launched into a description of all the things that had gone wrong with her Volkswagen in the past few weeks. Jake listened, making sympathetic noises here and there and asking several questions before announcing that it probably just needed a basic tune-up.
“That’s what I’m hoping. I can’t afford an expensive repair.”
“Don’t worry.” Jake patted her hand reassuringly. “It’ll be easy to fix. Cheap too.”
The auditorium was filled to near capacity by the time Jake and Cori arrived. All around them people spoke in whispers, the hushed tones adding a special excitement to the highly charged atmosphere. Cori felt the anticipation build within her as the usherhanded them their playbills and led them to their seats.
Cori had been to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion several times in the past few years, for a play, a concert, and a performance of
The Nutcracker
last Christmas. Each time, she’d attended the less-expensive matinees, purchasing a seat ten minutes before curtain time to save money. Even if she’d been able to afford a ticket here in the founders’ circle, they were seldom available. Season subscribers always got first crack at the choicest seats. Like the one she was sitting in right now.
“I smell a rat!”
Leaning forward slightly, Jake shot a discreet glance under their chairs. “In the founders’ circle? I doubt it.” He straightened, not bothering to hide a facetious grin.
“All this time I’ve been trying to figure out how Marsha managed to set this whole thing up, but she wasn’t the only one in on it, was she?”
“What do you mean?”
“These tickets weren’t a prize at all, were they?”
He raised his right hand. “Scout’s honor. We won them fair and square.”
Cori eyed him suspiciously. “Where did Marsha get them?”
Jake took her hand and, turning it over, drew lazy circles on her palm with one finger. Mesmerized by his touch, she watched him trace a path up her arm until he reached her chin. With gentle pressure he forced her to meet his smoky blue gaze.
“A friend of mine gave me the tickets,” he saidquietly, “and I gave them to Marsha to use as a prize. Then … you and I played a very good, very exciting game of charades … and won. Now,” he said, running the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, “is there anything else you want to ask me before I kiss you?”
A tremor of desire shot through her. “Yes. When?”
“Right now.” As if on cue, the houselights began to dim, and Jake lowered his head toward her.
Darkness settled around them as he captured her mouth in a devastatingly sweet kiss. His lips were firm yet gentle as they moved over hers, igniting flames throughout her body. Her heart pounded. He molded his lips to hers, and she drew his tongue into the warm recesses of her mouth, welcoming his intimate exploration. In the silent darkness, surrounded by people, Cori felt wicked—marvelously, deliciously wicked.
The orchestra began to play. Jake drew back, slowly ending the kiss. A single dim light focused on the stage, and the curtain parted.
Throughout the ballet Cori tried to give her undivided attention to the performance she’d wanted to see so badly, but failed. Each scene was intertwined with memories of Jake—soft caresses during the Rose Adagio, a stolen kiss as Aurora’s godmother waved her wand and the court fell asleep. Cori felt as if Jake were casting a spell over her too. He hadn’t used a spindle like the wicked Carabosse, or a magic wand like the Lilac Fairy, but the effect was every bit as powerful, every bit as enchanting.
No matter how many times she told herself shewas just getting caught up in the excitement of the ballet, Cori knew it wasn’t true. What she was feeling had nothing to do with pretty costumes or skillful dancers or Tchaikovsky’s glorious score.
When his shoulder brushed against hers, a delectable shudder racked her body. When she crossed her legs,
“Has it ever.”
She launched into a description of all the things that had gone wrong with her Volkswagen in the past few weeks. Jake listened, making sympathetic noises here and there and asking several questions before announcing that it probably just needed a basic tune-up.
“That’s what I’m hoping. I can’t afford an expensive repair.”
“Don’t worry.” Jake patted her hand reassuringly. “It’ll be easy to fix. Cheap too.”
The auditorium was filled to near capacity by the time Jake and Cori arrived. All around them people spoke in whispers, the hushed tones adding a special excitement to the highly charged atmosphere. Cori felt the anticipation build within her as the usherhanded them their playbills and led them to their seats.
Cori had been to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion several times in the past few years, for a play, a concert, and a performance of
The Nutcracker
last Christmas. Each time, she’d attended the less-expensive matinees, purchasing a seat ten minutes before curtain time to save money. Even if she’d been able to afford a ticket here in the founders’ circle, they were seldom available. Season subscribers always got first crack at the choicest seats. Like the one she was sitting in right now.
“I smell a rat!”
Leaning forward slightly, Jake shot a discreet glance under their chairs. “In the founders’ circle? I doubt it.” He straightened, not bothering to hide a facetious grin.
“All this time I’ve been trying to figure out how Marsha managed to set this whole thing up, but she wasn’t the only one in on it, was she?”
“What do you mean?”
“These tickets weren’t a prize at all, were they?”
He raised his right hand. “Scout’s honor. We won them fair and square.”
Cori eyed him suspiciously. “Where did Marsha get them?”
Jake took her hand and, turning it over, drew lazy circles on her palm with one finger. Mesmerized by his touch, she watched him trace a path up her arm until he reached her chin. With gentle pressure he forced her to meet his smoky blue gaze.
“A friend of mine gave me the tickets,” he saidquietly, “and I gave them to Marsha to use as a prize. Then … you and I played a very good, very exciting game of charades … and won. Now,” he said, running the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, “is there anything else you want to ask me before I kiss you?”
A tremor of desire shot through her. “Yes. When?”
“Right now.” As if on cue, the houselights began to dim, and Jake lowered his head toward her.
Darkness settled around them as he captured her mouth in a devastatingly sweet kiss. His lips were firm yet gentle as they moved over hers, igniting flames throughout her body. Her heart pounded. He molded his lips to hers, and she drew his tongue into the warm recesses of her mouth, welcoming his intimate exploration. In the silent darkness, surrounded by people, Cori felt wicked—marvelously, deliciously wicked.
The orchestra began to play. Jake drew back, slowly ending the kiss. A single dim light focused on the stage, and the curtain parted.
Throughout the ballet Cori tried to give her undivided attention to the performance she’d wanted to see so badly, but failed. Each scene was intertwined with memories of Jake—soft caresses during the Rose Adagio, a stolen kiss as Aurora’s godmother waved her wand and the court fell asleep. Cori felt as if Jake were casting a spell over her too. He hadn’t used a spindle like the wicked Carabosse, or a magic wand like the Lilac Fairy, but the effect was every bit as powerful, every bit as enchanting.
No matter how many times she told herself shewas just getting caught up in the excitement of the ballet, Cori knew it wasn’t true. What she was feeling had nothing to do with pretty costumes or skillful dancers or Tchaikovsky’s glorious score.
When his shoulder brushed against hers, a delectable shudder racked her body. When she crossed her legs,
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