Free Jack & Jilted by Cathy Yardley

erotic. It was that combined with the surprise of her and the fact that he’d been lusting after her for forty-eight hours that had finally pushed him over the edge. He couldn’t have held back any longer if he’d had a gun to his head.
    He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, feeling like beating his head against something for his own stupidity and lack of control. There was one last shock. The fact that she calmly switched gears and sent him packing without any seeming remorse other than possibly being seen as rude. When she’d said that she only wanted him for one night, apparently she’d meant it. And instead of a relief, he found it completely annoying.
    There was a knock on his door, and he scowled at it. “Come in,” he snapped, fully expecting it to be Jose or Ace and hoping that it wasn’t something serious or costly.
    The door opened. It wasn’t Jose or Ace.
    “Do you have a minute?”
    He sighed. Chloe was wearing a pair of white capri pants and a chocolate-brown halter top, her hair up in a ponytail and her face looking freshly scrubbed. If anything, she looked like a guilty teenager, come to confess to sneaking in late or something.
    He bit back on temper. She had nothing to feel guilty about. It wasn’t her fault—it was his. And she had enough going on this week, what with being abandoned at the altar and all. He really didn’t need to make her life more unhappy, did he?
    “Sure,” he found himself saying, gesturing to the small chair by his desk. He leaned against the far wall, keeping as much distance between them as possible. “How are you feeling?”
    “Fine,” she said, then she shook her head. “Actually, I feel terrible.” He winced, and she must’ve caught it because she quickly added, “Not because of last night!”
    “Well, you have every right,” he started, but she interrupted him.
    “I mean, I don’t feel terrible about what we did last night. I feel terrible that I just sort of…you know…kicked you out like that.”
    There was a blush riding high on her cheeks, and she was studying the top of his desk as if it were the Rosetta Stone. He sighed.
    “You had every right to decide when we were done,” he said slowly.
    “I could have handled it better,” she countered, shaking her head some more. “It was rude, and unconscionable, considering I was the one who had dragged you to my room and practically forced you…”
    “Okay, whoa,” he said, crossing the room and kneeling in front of her so she’d have to look at him. “Beyond the fact that I carried you to your cabin, there’s feeling bad about something, and then there’s self-flagellation. You don’t have to be a martyr about this.”
    She looked up, her eyes snapping at the term martyr. “I’m not! I’m just…”
    “I know. You’re just not being a victim,” he said, letting some of his frustration seep out. “Just like you did with what’s-his-name, that idiot. You’re letting men off the hook and taking the blame for something that’s in no way your fault so you can feel like you have control over it. Well, last night wasn’t your fault. I didn’t do the job right, and you had every right to want time alone. You didn’t force me to do anything, you weren’t rude, you weren’t anything. So stop letting me off the hook!”
    She blinked at him, and he could tell anger was warring with guilt. “I did kick you out,” she said.
    “Yes, you did. So what?”
    Her mouth dropped open.
    “You’re allowed,” he said.
    “I used you, Jack!”
    Now he grinned. She sounded so scandalized by it, as if she’d committed a murder or something. “Well, duh.”
    Her eyes bulged in response. “And…you’re okay with that?”
    There it was again—that combination of innocence and wickedness that the woman seemed to project like a beacon. “Honey, I knew exactly what I was getting into,” he said, although even as he mouthed the words, he wondered if he really knew what he was getting