“You want something to eat?”
“You going to cook me breakfast?”
“Why not?”
Kim didn’t know he could cook—she’d thought his housekeeper did all that. She watched, trying to get her head around “domesticated Jake” while he wandered around the kitchen, still in his towel, collecting ingredients.
He stood with his back to her at the stove, cooking her omelet, and she stared her fill. He had a lovely back, broad at the shoulders, narrow at the waist, smooth and sleek with powerful muscles moving underneath. Her physical hunger stirred.
Unfortunately—not for eggs.
She kept her attention fixed on her food while she ate. The omelet was delicious, rich with herbs and perfectly cooked. The toast, crisp and buttery, but Kim couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with the world. Jake seemed so relaxed. Maybe he was happy to go back to being friends. She was the problem. She was the one who couldn’t stop thinking about—
“What are you up to today?” Jake asked.
“Shopping.”
“You want me to come?”
“No.” Though at least he’d have to put some clothes on, which would be an improvement…or not.
Heaving a huge sigh, she pushed away her plate and got to her feet. “Thanks for breakfast.” She had the weirdest urge to peck him on the cheek and say have a nice day or something similar, like an old married couple. Instead, she headed for the door. She gave him one last quick glance; he watched her out of hooded eyes, a small smile playing on his beautiful lips. It vanished when he caught her gaze. He raised his cup.
“Seven thirty tonight?”
“I’ll be here.”
Chapter Twelve
The party to celebrate Jake’s father’s sixtieth birthday was taking place in a hotel in the center of London, and there were five hundred guests, so it was hardly a typical birthday party. But Jake had told her that anything went as far as dress code was concerned—she didn’t need to be formal. What she needed to do was exert her own personality, though she wasn’t sure what that was. She suspected somewhere between skintight leather pants and elegant long black dresses. But probably no longer loose-fitting khakis, Doc Martens, and a T-shirt.
In the end, she hadn’t bought a dress, but red silk palazzo pants that clung to her hips and then flared out. To complete the ensemble, she wore a matching top, cut off at her midriff to show the belly button ring she was quite fond of.
Jakes eyes lingered on the little jewel when she emerged from the spare room at seven twenty-five. But he just nodded and said, “Very nice,” in a totally colorless tone.
Tonight, with any luck, they’d persuade Nadia that Jake was a lost cause, and life could return to normal. Though she couldn’t imagine life ever being normal again. In fact, she had no clue what normal was anymore.
Jake, dressed in black pants and a black silk shirt open at the throat, guided her into the elevator, across the lobby, and out into the evening. The air was warm.
“Have you gotten your dad a present?” she asked as they hovered for a second outside the door to the ballroom. She could already hear the party in full swing on the other side.
“Yes. A parachute jump.”
“You bought your sixty-year-old father a parachute jump for his birthday?”
“Well, you and I did, actually—it’s a joint present. And he’s never done one before.”
“I suppose there’s always a first time for jumping out of airplanes, isn’t there?” She took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
He touched her on the arm, and she hesitated before turning to him.
His gaze ran down over her. “I just wanted you to know you look incredibly sexy in that outfit.”
“I do?”
“Yes, you do—thank you for making such an effort. I’m sure Nadia will be suitably impressed.”
Did that mean he wasn’t?
She shook her head; she was overthinking everything. This was a favor to a friend. Once Nadia was well and truly out of the picture, Jake would be grateful and would no doubt up her grade and let her go shoot someone.
A band played in the far end of the room. Something she didn’t recognize, but smooth and mellow. They paused inside the doorway. At first she didn’t see anyone she knew, but then she saw Jake’s mother and father across the room, at the center of a knot of people.
Jake and his father had the same brilliant blue eyes; otherwise, there were no similarities. Jake’s father was a couple of inches shorter than his mother, with sandy hair and a stocky build. A self-made man, he’d started his business forty years ago with nothing and built it into a multibillion-dollar international company.
Jake got his looks from his mother, who’d been a successful model. She was tall and willowy with Jake’s midnight-black hair.
He’d once told her that his mother had been a trophy wife, but they’d fallen madly in love after they married. It sounded a little far-fetched to Kim, but they seemed genuinely fond of each other.
Kim jumped when someone tapped her on the arm. It was Jake’s sister Abby. She grinned. “Love your outfit,” she murmured. “So much better than a towel.”
“Thank you,” Kim said. “I did consider the towel, but Jake asked for it back. I thought he wanted to wear it himself.”
“Nah, Jake’s way too conscious of being cool.” Abby took a sip of champagne. “Did you know Nadia was here?” she asked Jake.
“She told me she was coming.”
“And she’s been making it very clear that as far as she’s concerned, the two of you are still an item.” She glanced from Kim to Jake. “So what’s going on?”
“None of your business.”
“Aw, come on, Jake.”
He shrugged. “Nadia is deluded.”
“Well, I was surprised when you started seeing her. Though you never seemed to have much taste in women.” She glanced at Kim, and then widened her eyes as she realized she’d been less than diplomatic. “Present company aside, of course.”
“Of course,” Kim replied drily.
“Come on,” Jake said. “I’ll get you a drink.”
They collected a couple of glasses of champagne and then made a circuit of the room. Kim kept her eyes peeled but only spotted Nadia after the circuit was complete. She stood beside one of the tall pillars, a glass in her hand, her eyes narrowed to slits.
“If looks could kill,” Kim murmured.