Page 20 of Power

9

JACE

For a moment, elation coursed through me before reality slapped me across the face. What kind of man was I acting like?

My “relationships”—if you could call them that—had always been casual for a reason. Casual meant no messy emotions, no complications. It meant having short, monogamous arrangements where I never thought about the women when they weren’t warming my bed. I definitely never sat there, analyzing their body language, or felt my chest constrict at the thought that they might walk out of a bar and disappear from my life forever.

This laser focus on a woman, this hunger that rivaled a starving man’s desperation, wasn’t me. Hell, I prided myself on control, on keeping emotions at arm’s length. But here I was, completely unsettled by a woman I’d known for all of twenty minutes. Who felt a pull like this so quickly?

This had to be about distraction. It was the only logical explanation, and I was nothing if not logical.

The timing fit perfectly. I’d been told to find a distraction for the weekend, and then she literally fell at my feet. My mind must have latched on to her and her mysterious revenge fantasy as an escape from my professional hell. Something to stop me from doing anything rash, like taking that flight. That had to be it.

Right?

But if this was just about distraction, why was I suddenly consumed with knowing who had hurt her badly enough to warrant that revenge list? My fingers twitched at my side, itching to pull that information from her like I pulled confessions from lying business partners.

A relationship wasn’t in the cards, but perhaps I could help navigate whatever storm was raging in her life. Not that she seemed incapable. Something in those sharp eyes told me she could handle herself just fine, but for reasons I couldn’t explain, a protective instinct kicked in.

Who are you, Scarlett? And who the hell hurt you enough to make you write that list?

The real question was: Why did I care so much about either answer? And why did I just vow to find the answers to all of the above?

10

SCARLETT

“I owe you one.” Jace materialized at my side, his presence sending a ripple of awareness through the crowded bar.

One stare into his breathless eyes, and my witty retort lodged in my throat. As captivating as it had been to see him before, seeing him now, when I wasn’t freaking out over him reading my revenge list or trying to stop my best friend’s mortification attack, I finally allowed myself to surrender to the depths of his gaze. Those emerald orbs, flecked with amber, held an undercurrent of something mysterious. The authority that radiated from him should have been intimidating, but something in the way the corner of his mouth lifted made my pulse react.

The fact that he’d shown me a lighter side only deepened my intrigue of him because his sharp, dominating features suggested he didn’t do it often.

“You don’t strike me as the type of guy who needs rescuing,” I challenged.

One. Two. Threeseconds passed before Jace chose his response to my playful accusation, angling the right side of his mouth up. My inner thighs heated at the sight, evidently waiting for him to tell them what to do.

Traitor thighs.

“And what type of guy do I seem like to you, Scarlett?”

My God.My name had never sounded as sensual as it did rolling off his lips, an effortless symphony of velvet and seduction. There was a challenge to it even as he leaned his left elbow on the bar next to me, waiting patiently for my response.

My brain cells attempted to unionize and take me down though, so it took several seconds before I replied, “The kind of guy who has a good sense of humor, but doesn’t normally let people see it.”

Hallelujah! My vocabulary and ability to string words into coherent sentences have returned.

As he scrutinized my features, wandering vision and all that, I couldn’t tell if I’d offended or impressed him.

“Observant, aren’t you?” he cooed.

Impressed, I guess.

“She’s pretty.” I cocked an eyebrow, gesturing toward Red Dress with my drink. Better to acknowledge the elephant in the room—or rather, the gorgeous woman who’d been flirting with him earlier.

“Didn’t notice.”

Something in his tone sounded absolutely sincere. Or maybe I was just hearing what I wanted to hear. Either way, it was mean to feel flattered that he sat with his back to the woman, who was now pouting, by the way.