Back in His Bed: Boardroom Rivals, Bedroom Fireworks! / Unfinished Business with the Duke / How to Win the Dating War

“Actually, it’s working out quite well.” Thankfully her phone beeped, alerting her to an incoming text message. Jack. About damn time. “Excuse me. I need to take care of this.”

She slipped out the door before Libby could bring up any other uncomfortable subjects and read Jack’s message: “By the bar. Where are you?”

A quick glance toward the bar, and she spotted his dark head scanning the crowd. When he spotted her, she waved, and his answering smile gave her a jolt even through her ire at his tardiness.

“Bren, you look incredible.”

He leaned in to kiss her gently on the cheek and she muttered through her teeth, “You’re late.”

“Unavoidable,” he whispered.

“You’re dead meat.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” He pulled back, still wearing that same smile for anyone watching. Stepping back, he let his eyes roam appreciatively down her body. “You look better than incredible.”

The look sent a zing of electricity through her. Damn it, he wasn’t getting off that easy. He’d asked her to come, and she had. The least he could have done was be here. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Tugging on her hand, he pulled her close again and said quietly, “Then let me start making it up to you now.”

“What? How?” Jack was leading her behind the crowd, out a side door by the kitchen, and down a back hallway as she sputtered her questions. “Where are you taking me?”

In answer, he pushed open a door marked “Private. Rehearsal Room One.” The door closed behind them, and she heard the lock snap into place. “I apologize for being late. There was a problem with the New York property I had to sort out.”

“And you had to bring me here to apologize?” The small room held a baby grand piano and a music stand, but little else.

“No, I brought you here because I’ve missed you.” Jack sat on the piano bench and pulled her into his lap. “And this room is soundproof.”

That was all the warning she got before his mouth landed on hers.

Chapter Ten (#ulink_51f7c7ab-b79a-53b6-8704-3ad2d01e67f8)

INDICATING the man to his right, Jack said, “Brenna, I’d like to introduce you to the Mayor.”

Brenna’s knees were still weak from their frenzied trip to the rehearsal room, and she knew her cheeks were still flushed. Meeting the Mayor, the Artistic Director, and the First Violin ten minutes after a mindblowing orgasm…surreal. She might not have forgiven Jack completely for being over an hour late, but she was less upset about it now, at least. It still bothered her to think where she ranked on his priority list, but he had searched her out immediately once he did arrive.

And pulled her away for a quickie. As the afterglow faded and Jack glad-handed his way around the room—leaving her alone again quite a bit—her view on that experience began to change a little, too. She felt like a convenience—or an inconvenience, depending how she looked at it.

But standing at Jack’s side while he mingled wasn’t much better either. She got to talk to the same people she’d met earlier. Or at least she got to listen to them. If the conversation had been difficult earlier, it was worse now. The hayseed hick feeling came back in full force, because Jack did know all the people and had been to all the places. And she still had nothing to add to the conversation.

Two and a half hours down. She might make it through the last thirty minutes, but her patience was wearing thin. She kept the smile on her face, though. After all, these were Jack’s friends and associates. She owed him a sincere attempt after he’d done so well with her friends.

More people had connected the mental dots now, and she received several curious stares as folks tried to figure out why Jack was here with his ex-wife. The more forth-right just asked directly. While she tried to explain her connection to Max through Amante Verano, it rarely satisfied anyone. If one more person referred to her as “Jack’s ex,” she’d pull her own hair out. And Jack wasn’t exactly correcting them either. Not that she necessarily wanted to spread the word prematurely that she and Jack were seeing each other again, but she figured that trip to the rehearsal room at least took her out of the “ex” category.

“Jack! You’re finally here.” Libby Winston leaned in a little too close as she greeted Jack with air kisses. Wrapping her manicured hand around Jack’s arm, Libby anchored herself to his side. If Jack minded the obvious fawning, he certainly didn’t put a stop to it, and it made Brenna a bit nauseous to watch.

“Libby, you remember Brenna?”

“Of course. Brenna and I actually ran into each other earlier in the Ladies’. You two have certainly got speculation flying, being here together like this.” Libby batted her eyelashes at Jack insipidly.

Oh, please. That had to be the most unsubtle attempt to pry out information she’d ever heard.

“Brenna is running Max’s winery now,” Jack answered smoothly.

“She said you two were business partners?”

I’m standing right here, you know. Of course it wasn’t the first time she’d felt invisible tonight, but coming from Libby it was really grating her nerves.

Jack inclined his head, acknowledging the statement without further response, and Brenna wanted to smack him.

Libby forged ahead. “We missed you at Harry and Susan’s Saturday night.”

“I spent the weekend at the vineyard.”

Libby’s eyebrows moved the millimeter allowed by botox. “You, Jack? Rusticating in wine country? The wonders never cease.”

How much longer would she have to stand here and listen to this?

“There’s a first time for everything.” Jack flashed Libby his ladykiller smile, and Libby practically swooned.

“I trust it won’t be a regular occurrence, then? Weekends in the country?”

“Surely you know me better than that, Libby?”

Libby narrowed her eyes at Brenna, but Brenna held the same smile she’d worn all evening. She wouldn’t give Libby the satisfaction. She, better than anyone, knew Jack’s feelings about wine country.

Libby batted her eyelashes at Jack again before turning to Brenna. “I promised Tom and Margaret I’d round Jack up—” Libby paused and blinked. “Do you know Tom and Margaret, Brenna?”

Of course she didn’t, and she’d bet next season’s Chardonnay Libby knew that. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

“That’s a shame. But,” she continued, “I did promise them I’d drag Jack over so they can finalize those plans for the golf tournament. Do you mind, Brenna?”

“Not at all.” Twenty more minutes. That’s it.

“Bren, would you…?” Jack started, but she waved him silent.

“Actually, I think I’ll just get a refill while you all talk business.”

Jack looked at her strangely. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“No problem.”

Libby dragged Jack away before the words were fully out of her mouth. Jack didn’t even play golf. Or did he? He might have picked up the hobby sometime in the last decade.

Draining the last of her soda, she handed the empty glass to a passing waiter and went to find a place to sit. She slid her feet out of Dianne’s shoes and wiggled her toes in relief. The feeling didn’t extend to her mind, though.

Brenna felt as if she was having a flashback to their marriage. Hell, the whole damn night felt like a re-run. The awkward conversations with his friends, being an outsider…They’d go home, fight, and have make-up sex. But the next outing would bring more of the same. She snorted. They’d already had the fight and the make-up sex tonight. The cycle was complete. History repeated itself. She’d given it her best shot and still fallen short.

A high-pitched laugh caught her attention over the music, and she looked over to see Libby Winston’s head thrown back in over-dramatic style as she found whatever Jack was saying to be hilarious. Libby swatted Jack’s arm playfully, then pulled him close to whisper something in his ear. Jack wore a look of mild amusement as Libby practically shoved her breasts in his face.