Texting Under the Influence

My place. Tonight.

* * *

Jack Kearney had never done anything so crazy before. Met a girl at nearly midnight on a Tuesday? And not just any lass, one who worked for him.

Jenna Cho.

He’d never in a million years expected her to text him, but here she had. Iknow you want me.You should want me.I’m the best you’ll ever have.

There wasn’t anything hotter than a confident girl who knew exactly what she wanted. Jack was hooked the second the text came in.

Jack locked the back door of his sleek town home in Old Town, as he trotted out the small yard and to his waiting parking space in the back alley, wishing he could teleport himself over to Jenna’s place and not even bother with the car. Jack was used to female attention. His wicked smile and lean, athletic physique had gotten him more than kisses in alleyways and bars across Dublin, where he’d grown up—a streak that had continued when he’d jumped the pond to Chicago two years ago. He’d been propositioned before, but never in the middle of the night. Even at Hue, he’d had to politely turn down advances from nearly every department. He never used to mix business and pleasure, but Jenna was different.

My place.Tonight.

The thought sent a thrill through him. He hated that he was so excited about the prospect. He should’ve ignored the texts. She’d been drinking. It was probably a mistake, and yet... he had to know for sure.

Jack had been drawn to Jenna the minute they’d met. He had a string of blonde and red-headed freckled beauties back in Ireland he’d loved and left, but Jenna was different. It wasn’t just that she was dark-haired and gorgeous. She always seemed so out-of-reach, so completely immune to his charms. He’d tried, against all his better judgment, and yet, she remained completely and totally aloof, maddeningly professional.

And then, out of the clear blue, this.

“Yer gonna lose yer job,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head at his own foolishness, as he opened the garage door, revealing his sleek, freshly washed BMW. Not that he was particularly married to this job or even really planned to keep it much longer, he reminded himself. Still, he should’ve ignored that text. It wasn’t like he was going to take advantage of a drunk lass. One who could get ye fired, or sued, or worse! His ma had raised him better than that. Old Mrs. Kearney would not approve, and she’d berate him to no end. And if she didn’t, one of his four sisters would have something to say about it. Growing up the only boy in a houseful of women taught him a few things about respecting ladies. But, he had to know. Did she secretly feel the same way about him? He’d been soft on her for months. She’d gotten under his skin like a bad rash.

“Yer bein’ an arse,” he mumbled to himself, but that still didn’t stop him from sliding into the front seat of his Beamer and starting the engine. And if he ran over there and slept with her? Then what? Most American girls he’d met weren’t ready for a relationship. Sure, they’d muck about for a while, but when it came to serious talks about exclusivity, they’d all go pale and start blubbering about not being ready to settle down. Somewhere, between Ireland and here, the roles had been all switched around. He didn’t quite understand it.

In Ireland, he’d been an unapologetic serial monogamist. He craved a relationship with one woman at a time. His sister Maeve told him he fell in love too easily. But, he thought women were supposed to want that. Not the ones he’d met so far. He didn’t know if it was just his rotten luck, or if women were different in America, but it seemed all they were into was partying and shagging anything that moved. The last time he fell for a girl, she’d been dating two other guys at the same time. He should’ve learned his lesson then, but now here he was again, falling for a girl before he even knew her.

Did she just want a shag like the rest of them? Or was she fishing for more? He wanted a real connection. Did she?

Part of him told him he’d just be disappointed, but the part of him that lived below his waist didn’t care at the moment. The thought that her hard veneer had finally cracked drove him wild.

He backed his car out of the garage space and steered it toward Jenna’s condo in Wrigleyville.

The fact that he’d memorized her address after only dropping her off once after a photo shoot a few months ago should’ve raised more warning bells in his head, but didn’t. Just hear the lass out, and figure out if she feels the same way about me, he thought. Nothing more.

Chapter Two (#ulink_57ac4288-914c-5c49-8cc2-77a846c8831e)

Back at her condo, Jenna quickly stuffed her dirty clothes into her closet, kicking errant socks under her bed. Jax had a thing about bedrooms: they had to be clean. He felt nothing should get in the way of setting the mood, and he was right about that. He was an artist in the bedroom, and wanted to work every angle of the canvas. A dirty bra on the headboard or a sweatshirt on the floor might mess with his rhythm, and Jenna had no intention of doing that. If this was going to be the last time she’d ever fuck him, she wanted it to be perfect. Quickly, she lit those vanilla candles he liked so much, and shut off the lights.

Maddie had been the hardest to get rid of—she’d almost insisted on sleeping over. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” she had said. “What if he tries to hit you up for a booty call?”

“He won’t,” Jenna had lied, since he already had.And she’d accepted. She felt bad about that, and about shuffling Maddie out her door with some mumbled excuse about having an early workday tomorrow. She knew by the sour look on Maddie’s face, her friend didn’t buy it, but Maddie had let it slide, so there was that. Now, she just had to focus on what was coming and how she planned to be naked with Jax in less than an hour.

Already, she’d found the lingerie that drove him wild: push-up bra, transparent black thong, the silky black robe he’d gotten her for her birthday last year. He’d had her try it on—sans anything underneath when she opened it, and that had led to a six-hour, multi-orgasm, marathon lovemaking session, which she still sometimes daydreamed about. She hoped he remembered that when she opened the door.

What am I doing? she thought suddenly, remembering that the day after that lovemaking marathon she’d gone in for her annual OB/GYN appointment and discovered she had HPV, which could only have come from Jax. She’d done the math and realized that he’d given it to her sometime during one of their so-called monogamous phases, which meant he’d picked it up from playing around on the side. When she’d confronted him, and asked him if he’d been sleeping around, he’d said yes. When she asked him if he used any protection, he’d said sometimes.

Sometimes! That had led to a panicked call to the doctor’s office once more, where she had tests for the whole spectrum of STDs run. She’d come up negative for any more, but that had led to their second breakup.

Jenna shook her head, the vodka making her thoughts all jumbled. She’d had a lot to drink and hardly anything to eat, and she swayed unsteadily on her heels as she tried to gather her thoughts.

She couldn’t believe she’d let him back into her life and her bed. She knew how it sounded to Maddie, and everyone else in her life, but the fact was, nobody wanted her like Jax. His hands... his mouth. He knew every one of her weak spots. He exploited every one. And if that didn’t work, he made her come so hard she cried uncle.

Nobody pursued her with his single-minded determination. Even though he ran after dozens of girls the same way, that little voice said. She checked her makeup in the mirror, her image a drunk blur. She’d fixed her eyeliner the best she could, but wondered what would happen after he left. Would she cry herself to sleep? Was she really going to do this? Trade her dignity for one more night with Jax?

Ishould call him and tell him not to bother.Ishouldn’t do this.Iknow where this leads...

No.One more time, she thought.Just once.One time and I’ll be done with him.For good this time.

But... was that really a good idea? She wavered, phone in hand, almost ready to text Jax and call the whole thing off. Maybe she would...

Her door buzzed then. Too late. Jax was downstairs. She could ignore him, but she knew Jax. He’d worm his way in somehow, or he’d buzz all her neighbors’ doors until one of them let him in. When it came to sex, Jax wasn’t going to be derailed. He’d take the door off the hinges if he had to. She thought of trying to explain to the police she called about her drunk texting, and decided she should be in for a penny, in for a pound. She invited him over, and part of her was still very excited about their last night.

She hit the buzzer button, and cracked open her front door. She was in a third-floor walk-up, and she could hear the front door click behind him, and the heavy footsteps on the carpeted stairs. Jenna propped herself in her doorway, her landing not visible to any of her neighbors. She had her silky black robe open, her lingerie and assets on display—push-up bra working overtime to make her a Victoria’s Secret model look-alike. She slouched against the door frame, hoping she looked seductive and not drunk, as she saw a glimpse of dark hair and a leather jacket. Jax didn’t wear leather... and wait one minute, that wasn’t Jax at all.

Her boss, Jack Kearney, climbed up the last flight, his broad shoulders moving his fit body as she froze in absolute shock for about two full seconds, during which, his ice-blue eyes swept over her in approval. He looked a little like a man on Christmas morning, amazed at the good fortune he’d found under his tree.

Jenna managed to gain control of her body once more, and she whipped her robe closed, tying the sash and backing into her apartment.

“Jack! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, even as she realized the silk of her robe clung to her curves, and was too short to cover much of anything, her hem hanging well above her knee. Her eyes darted down the stairwell, as if Jax might be there right behind Jack, trying to figure out what on earth had brought her boss to her apartment at midnight.

“You told me to come,” Jack said, holding up his phone.

The vodka swirled around Jenna’s brain, making her two steps too slow. “What?”

He read the messages aloud. “We need 2 talk.Iknow you want me.You should want me.I’m the best you’ll ever have. “

“No... Oh, my God.” Jenna stumbled back into her apartment, grabbing her phone. It couldn’t be true. She’d texted Jax. She knew she had...and yet, as she scrambled to pick up her phone she saw she hadn’t. Jack sat neatly at the top of her message list. Jack, not Jax. She’d been off by one letter. She’d probably typed Jac, and it had automatically pulled up Jack, but she’d been too drunk to notice. Oh, God! Her boss... her... really devilishly good-looking boss. She didn’t know if it was the vodka talking, but man, were his eyes blue. Shockingly blue. His nearly jet-black hair ran riot over his head in just the perfect messy heap. He grinned sheepishly, as the mix-up dawned on him.

“You didn’t mean to text me, I take it?” He ran a hand through his thick black hair and sighed, looking strangely despondent. “I knew it was too good to be true.” He grinned ruefully at her, looking, well, damn good. He was handsome, she knew he was, but before now she’d not let herself see just how hot.

God, Jenna.Like a bitch in heat!Are you just going to jump on every man you see?Maybe... she thought. Just maybe. And distantly... Ireally shouldn’t ever drink vodka.

Jack glanced down at his shoes, looking embarrassed. She wondered why. Women threw themselves on Jack all the time. It’s not like the man was hard up for willing booty calls. She’d heard women at work talking about him in the kitchen by the coffee machine and what they’d love to do with him. “Right, well, then, I... Uh... This is for you.” He handed her a bottle of red, an expensive bottle by the look of it. What kind of man brought expensive wine to a drunken hookup?

Anice one, Maddie would’ve said if she were here.

“Well... uh... I’ll be on me way, then,” he grumbled in his sexy Irish brogue. Even Jenna had taken note of the accent. Everyone in the office had. “No need to call the peelers.”

“Peelers?”

“Police,” he explained. He headed to the door, pausing there. “By the by, you look feckin’ amazing. Whomever you meant to call is a lucky feckin’ lad.”

Something in his voice, the yearning in it, made Jenna pause. Did Jack have a thing for her?

“Jack, wait.”

He paused. “Are you going to call HR? Pam will be asleep and meaner than she usually is.”