Talking Dirty Page 3

  What was even more amazing was that they’d timed him and he’d lasted the full eight seconds—just like he was Ty Murray.

  Apple dropped her chin into her palm, reminiscing now. “Wasn’t that also the night of your last performance with Redneck Rockstars?”

  He shook his head. “Different one,” he said and watched a patron slide onto an empty stool two seats down from Apple and signal him for a drink. Scooting down the bar, Jake eyed the guy in the expensive outdoor clothing that still looked new and said, “Visiting?”

  The man nodded and asked for a pint of signature ale, his perfectly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair and pale skin pegging him for a desk jockey. Jake noticed the Rolex and guessed stock market. Day trader. And the way the man was absently rubbing his left ring finger, Jake would bet recently divorced too.

  Apple rotated her chin on her palm and inquired of Day Trader, “What brings you to Fortune?”

  Jake was about to hand over the pint when the guy openly checked out her cleavage, and he had to fight a sudden urge to dump the glass on the asshole’s perfectly coifed head. “Yeah, what brings you here?” he said instead, more abruptly than intended.

  Day Trader was clearly reluctant to pull his gaze away from Apple because he said with his eyes still locked on her, “Hiking trip with some buddies. We’re here for the weekend.” Then he reached out a hand to her, smiling now. “Hi, Steve Baker. Bond trader. Manhattan. And you are?”

  Really close to throwing your sorry ass out of my pub.

  Jake was about to open his mouth to say something to protect Apple’s virtue, when she straightened and placed a hand on her hip. She turned toward the rich douche, smiled widely, and slid the other hand across the glossy mahogany bar until it reached Jake’s. He jerked at the contact, at the surge of energy where their fingertips touched. Then she slipped her tiny hand inside his, so warm and soft, and he squeezed it tight for a heartbeat before releasing. Out of reflex, of course.

  Why else would he do that?

  With the nerves in his hand still jumping, he glanced questioningly at Apple, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was on the wannabe as she said sweetly, “Why, I’m Apple, and this big handsome guy is my fella, Jake Stone. He owns this place.” Then she pushed onto her toes, leaned over the bar, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  Feelings tumbled inside him, one after the other. So many he couldn’t name them. Didn’t want to, honestly.

  Picking up on Apple’s cue, and trying to ignore the fact that his cheek was tingling, Jake played along. “Welcome to my place, man. This lady’s taken.” As soon as he said the words, something stirred deep in his subconscious—something base and male and primal. Something that seemed to very much agree with that statement.

  Jesus, just what he needed.

  The pasty number pusher in spanking-new North Face rose hastily to his feet, his gaze sliding quickly away from Apple now. “Great place you got,” he mumbled and walked quickly toward the open French doors that led out onto the patio, melting into the growing dusk.

  Which left Jake alone again with Apple. She on one side of the bar, he on the other, leaning close and still holding hands. Surprise sparked in him as he noticed that. Why hadn’t she let go?

  Why hadn’t he?

  He cleared his throat and released her hand, his palm oddly bereft now without her warmth. “Where were we?”

  She rolled her eyes, but he couldn’t help noticing that she was rubbing her own palm slowly. “You want me naked.”

  The plainspoken statement had lust pouring through his veins like liquid gold, heating his body and making him tingle. Seeing Apple naked had been one of his lifelong secret dreams. But he still couldn’t resist teasing her. “It’s not about what I want, Apple. It’s about what’s fair and equitable, given the value of the content of this exchange.”

  That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

  She grimaced, shifting gently—and damned if her breasts didn’t jiggle enticingly enough from that small movement to make his dick grow hard. Christ. The woman should be required to carry a permit for those things.

  “Look,” she started to say, both hands planted above her full hips now. It only served to showcase her exaggerated hourglass shape and cause him further torment. “We both know that that’s not a reasonable request.”

  “How are you to judge what’s reasonable for me to request or not? I’m the one spilling the beans.”

  “Fine,” she said with a sigh. Apple must have seen that he was about to retort, because she held up a hand and closed her eyes briefly, cutting him off before he began. “I’m willing to find a fair compromise.”

  “How charitable of you,” he couldn’t help poking.

  Her blue eyes flashed. “You bet it is. You’ve caused me a lot of grief.”

  Jake leaned forward until they were only inches apart again, desire and irritation mixing inside him. “Oh, honey, you don’t want to get me started on who’s caused who the most grief over the years.”

  She didn’t even flinch. She just stood there, nose to nose with him as she raised a finger and slowly pushed her big-ass glasses back into place. “Maybe I do.”

  They stood rooted there, the two of them staring each other down. Apple’s eyes were full of challenge, but he couldn’t tell whether it was just bluster or not. There was one way to find out.

  “Okay, fine. You think I’ve caused the most grief?”

  “I do.” She nodded.

  “You want me to answer your questions?”

  Again she nodded, her blue eyes bright with determination. “Yes, yes I do.”

  He winked and tapped the tip of her pert little nose with a finger. “Then here’s how this is going to go down. For every question you ask, you have to take off an article of clothing.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t budge. “Not happening.”

  That was the response he was expecting. “Well, now that’s just too bad. I was really looking forward to reading your book.” He winked to let her know he was joking, laughter humming in his chest when she glared at him. He had her bluff now. Any moment she was going to cave and declare the whole thing off.

  She blew out a breath and said unexpectedly instead, “You’re talking a game of strip poker, only with interview questions, right?”

  It was his turn to nod as surprise darted through him. “Yeah.”

  “Do shoes count as a pair or individually?”

  He thought about it for a moment, amused now that she seemed to be standing her ground. God, she was fun to banter with. “They would count as a pair.”

  Apple began chewing her bottom lip like she always did when she was thinking, and he realized she was actually considering it. His gut instantly tightened with arousal, damn her.

  “And is this a graduated, cumulative sort of thing? Or do I get to start over with a full set of clothes for each group of questions?”

  Damn, Jake hadn’t realized there were going to be multiple events. This could wind up being a whole lot of fun. “I’ll take it easy on you. New clothes, new questions. But”—he added hastily when he saw her expression change and her eyes go shrewd—“you have to wear weather-appropriate outfits. No layering, no hats, and jewelry doesn’t count. Just a good old-fashioned traditional game of striptease. The braver you are about what you’re willing to take off, the more questions you’ll get answered.”

  Apple went quiet, and he could see that she was mulling it over. Suddenly jittery, with unexpected excitement tugging at his belly, Jake pushed back from the bar and clapped his hands together, smiling because he just couldn’t help himself. “That’s the deal, woman. Take it or leave it.”

  “Hmm, I think I’ll leave it. That’s a crap-ass deal, and you know it,” Apple said, looking him dead in the eye.

  It was, and he did know it. He also knew Apple. She’d never make such a lopsided pact where she was giving too much and not getting enough in return.

  Jake took a breath and waited for it,
knowing there was a big pushback coming from her. It didn’t take more than three seconds for it to arrive.

  “If this is what you want in exchange for talking to me, then I want something too.” The way she said it left zero room for argument.

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” This was going to be good.

  “You have to get naked too.”

  “Excuse me?” His eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

  She crossed her arms and nodded. “You heard me right. I want to see you in your birthday suit too. It makes this whole thing equal.”

  Taken off guard, Jake shot her a look and teased in an attempt to regain his bearings, “Honey, if you’ve been angling to get me naked this whole time, there were easier ways to go about it than hounding me about your book. You could have just asked.”

  “Ha-ha,” she deadpanned, her eyes completely serious on him. “I don’t have a burning desire to see you in the buff. However, I do have a very keen interest in fulfilling my publishing contract, and I’m willing to consider all options. But I won’t do it willy-nilly, Jake. Equal exchange only. If I’m taking it off, so are you. Whatever piece of clothing I lose, it comes off for you too.”

  He honestly had no idea if she was serious or not. But he was so intrigued by her “compromise” that he said through a slight smirk, “I’m game. If you think you can handle it, that is.”

  “Really?” Her voice was ripe with exasperation. “Getting naked is just that easy for you?”

  “I’m comfortable in my own skin,” he said casually and shrugged, coughing to cover his laughter when she looked like she wanted to clock him. “Hey, don’t get mad,” he added. “It was your idea. I’m just saying that I’m in, if you think you can handle it.”

  For a full minute she stood there quietly, her lips pursed and eyes averted somewhere over his shoulder. Then she inhaled deeply like she was about to speak. But she didn’t, and he stood there with growing impatience, waiting for her to open her mouth and tell him something.

  Jake shifted on his feet, bracing them farther apart like he was preparing for impact. His heart rate had gone from slow and steady to just this side of racing. If she didn’t use that pretty little mouth of hers soon, he was in real danger of doing something asinine—like try to kiss a response out of her.

  At that moment her shoulders slumped, her mouth snapped shut as her nose scrunched up like a rabbit’s, and she placed a single finger over her mouth. “Hmm . . . ” Apple’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling like she was in deep contemplation.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake!” he snapped as impatience won the battle and burst into a million prickly pieces inside him. Pushing away from the bar, Jake snatched up the nearest towel and began furiously polishing the mahogany surface. Christ, she could try the patience of a saint. And he—well, everybody in this whole damned town knew he wasn’t one.

  “What?” Apple rebuffed with a look, her hands palm up as she shrugged, trying to act innocent. “I was thinking! It’s not as easy a decision as you’d probably like to believe it is, Mr. Sleeps-With-Everybody. Just because you get around faster than a case of mange in a pack of junkyard dogs doesn’t mean I do too. I run the risk of full bodily exposure, which for me isn’t a casual consideration, and I hadn’t anticipated that. So you’ll have to forgive me if I need a few minutes to process,” she finished with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

  The woman couldn’t do a damn thing simple even if she tried.

  She drove him crazy. Really she did—about half the time. And the other half . . . well, the other part of the time he wanted to do things to Apple he couldn’t talk about in polite company. Or any company, honestly, because the other things he wanted to do to her were dirty.

  And it would no doubt terrify her sweet, good little soul clear down to her toes if she were to ever discover it.

  “Time’s up. I’ve changed my mind. Offer withdrawn,” he said, having decided he’d waited long enough for her to make a choice. The fact that a part of him was feeling downright prickly that she hadn’t jumped up and down, shouting, “Yes!” the moment he’d made the offer had him scowling and crossing his arms defensively. Why should he care when he’d known the minute he’d made the suggestion that the answer would be no? This vague sense of disappointment had to be for some other reason.

  Apple’s eyes went wide, and she blinked behind her glasses. “Wait, what?” She began waving her hands back and forth and shaking her head. “No, no, no, you can’t take it back! I need this!”

  He shrugged and drawled, “Who says I can’t take it back?” And oh, it was killing her. She glared at him. After all the sleepless nights she’d given him over the years, it felt good to see her all stirred up for once.

  Obviously having made a decision, Apple stood up straight and slapped her hands on the bar. “Fine. Let’s do it! We have a deal.”

  He smiled, slowly and with great satisfaction.

  Hot damn, yes they did.

  Chapter Three

  THE NEXT MORNING, Apple was up bright and early. Her brain was way too busy scheming and planning to let her sleep. Which was unfortunate since being short on rest meant she was going to look like crap all day. But whatever. She had bigger concerns. Like how she was going to remain dressed during her talks with Jake. If she didn’t have to show him any skin, she certainly wasn’t going to. Even if it meant not getting to see any of his gorgeous bronzed flesh in return.

  That thought was maybe a little more disappointing to her than she’d like to admit.

  Still, the more she thought about it (which was a lot), the more she was sure she could come up with a plan to keep her clothed—and get all the information she needed. Just because she’d agreed to a bet like this didn’t mean she couldn’t still rely on her brain to get what she wanted without dropping her pants. She could figure it out. Right? And the teeny tiny little part inside her that got all fluttery at the idea of them seeing each other naked after all these years?

  Nothing but aftershock.

  Stumbling through her living room in the predawn light, she stepped on something pointy with her bare foot and yelped when it let out a squeak. “What the—?”

  She reached down and retrieved the offender—a dog toy. “Where are you, Waffles?” Her recently adopted family member was almost always underfoot.

  Not hearing a sound in reply, Apple shrugged and tossed the spiny rubber ball onto the couch. Yawning loudly, she stretched and made her way toward the kitchen. Just then a scuffling sound came from under the couch, and out popped Waffles, who ran over to her, her little scraggily tail wagging.

  Apple had taken one look at the tiny mixed-breed dog and fallen hopelessly in love. The veterinarian at Fortune’s pet adoption event had said the six-pound dog was a Chorkie—a Yorkshire terrier and Chihuahua mix—but she wasn’t so sure about that. Waffles looked like her mom had gotten around.

  Her funny look was precisely why Apple adored her. Waffles was so ugly, she was cute. Scooping her up, Apple snuggled the tiny brown dog with her crazy white Einstein eyebrows and gave her a good pat.

  Jake had been at the event too, as part of the “Bachelors of Fortune” celebrity trio, which included her cousin Aidan Booker and Sean Muldoon. It still made her chuckle and shake her head that the local media had dubbed them that a few years back after they’d literally struck gold in the river behind Jake’s house. Once word had gotten out about their incredible discovery, between the media outlets and women fawning over them, they’d become the three most popular men on the Western Slope of Colorado. And years later their popularity was still going strong. They even made public appearances like the pet adoption fair.

  They’d signed autographs and had their picture taken, and Jake had practically laughed in her face when he’d seen her new pet.

  Which just showed how little he knew.

  Waffles was the quintessence of awesome.

  Apple clicked on the overhead light in the kitchen and flinched at the sudden brightness. “Ouch, shit.” Qui
ckly flipping it back off, she breathed a sigh of relief and placed Waffles on her small purple dog bed. “You hang out here, love. I’m going to scrounge some coffee.”

  Apple placed her hand on her hips as the large dry-erase calendar on the wall by the refrigerator caught her attention in the budding light. The whiteness of it was particularly jarring this morning against the poppy-pink wall color.

  Yes, she’d painted her kitchen pink. She wasn’t ashamed.

  Padding across the scarred wood floors of her small 1920s bungalow, Apple grabbed a dry-erase marker, found the day’s date—Sunday—and drew a big red X through it. Then, taking up Monday, Tuesday, and, oh, pretty much every other day of the week, she wrote the words that filled her with dread: FIVE WEEKS TO DEADLINE. Just below it, she wrote a short motivational sentence in small letters: Get your ass moving!! With two exclamation marks. That’s right. She wanted that motivation screaming at her.

  Straightening again, Apple took a steadying breath. She had five weeks to get the information she needed from Jake and to finish her book. If she was clever and played her cards right, one strategic interview session with him would be all she needed.

  Her stomach went shaky at the thought.

  If she wasn’t clever, she might wind up doing the full Monty with Jake.

  Apple yanked open the white cupboard door in front of her, rose onto her toes, and searched for her coffee. Only it wasn’t there. Not this time.

  Frowning until she remembered that she’d meant to grab more at the co-op, but had chased after Jake instead, Apple let the cupboard slap shut. “Looks like we’re going out for coffee.”

  Giving herself a quick once-over and deciding that her ancient Reading Is for Awesome People T-shirt and pink sweatpants were good enough for a coffee shop run at seven thirty in the morning, Apple moved back through her house to retrieve her reading glasses.

  She put them on and grabbed a hairband from her dresser. Finding a pair of flip-flops hiding under the corner of her white vintage wrought iron bed, she snagged them and slid them on. When she turned around, Waffles was in the doorway wagging her tail and looking irresistible.