Dare to Love by user (read dune TXT) 📗

Right here, in the middle of the dance floor, in front of all these rich socialites.

Wouldn’t that cause a scandal? Jake thought it would be more than worth it to taste

her sweet lips again.

“Please, excuse me for a moment.” Her near breathless whisper told him she’d been

thinking the same thing.

As soon as Lucy took off for the ladies room, Alex and Raymond approached him.

Jake smiled behind his drink. They’d waited for the perfect opening like a couple of

circling sharks scoping out prey. Now that they had him alone, he expected the inquisition. An inquisition he more than welcomed.

The night was about to get even more interesting.

Chapter Four

Lucy stood alone in the makeup area of the ladies room, trying to catch her breath.

She put her hand over her heart, as if the gesture could calm the incessant pounding going

on in there.

Her heart was palpitating, she was flushed and sweaty. If she didn’t know better she

would swear she was having a heart attack.

But it wasn’t a heart attack. She was turned on.

Between Jake’s kiss and the dance they’d just finished, she was a mix of pent up emotion. He made her feel something. But what was it? Pure feminine ecstasy at having

an attractive man showing interest in her, yes, but more than that. Plenty of good looking

men had pursued her, but they’d never captured her interest as much as Jake had.

Why him? They came from completely opposite ends of the social spectrum, and had

nothing in common. And yet she felt a connection to him she’d never felt with another

man.

Maybe it was physical. That short but oh-so-amazing kiss had sure made a physical

impact on her. And dancing in his arms seemed a prelude to something more sensual,

another type of dance, a different kind of rhythm. Visions she couldn’t quite kick out of

her head had haunted her during that dance. Every time he slid his hand over the bare

skin of her back, or lightly flexed his fingers over hers, her mind flew to the various ways

she’d want him to touch her.

None of this was good. They were playing a game, a charade. Their relationship was

nothing more than a showcase to convince her father to back off. Guilt tugged at her

middle, clenching like a fist. She was using Jake, and it wasn’t fair.

But then again, this had been Jake’s idea, and if she gained some freedom from her

father’s incessant pressure to marry, why not?

But what if she wanted more?

Did he want more?

As she stepped back into the ballroom, she scanned the bar for Jake. Her heart leaped

to her throat when she found him surrounded by both her father and Alex. Lifting her

skirts, she made quick work of catching up to them, hoping she could run interference

before the two of them embarrassed Jake.

She arrived just in time to hear them arguing architecture. Obviously Jake knew building and construction, but she feared he was out of his league with an architectural

discussion.

“You have to admit, the vertical concept and false fronts of the Italianates are truly a

work of art,” Alex said.

Raymond nodded smugly. “I agree. But the gingerbread carving strategy of the Eastlake style is really my favorite.”

Jake hadn’t uttered a word since she’d returned. He inclined his head in her direction, a hint of a smirk on his face, but other than that seemed content to let her father

and Alex carry on.

Maybe he felt uncomfortable chiming in.

“Gentlemen,” she said, hoping to steer the conversation away from grilling Jake,

“I’m sure you’ll all agree the fundraiser tonight has been wildly successful.” They all looked at her, nodded politely, then resumed their discussion as if she wasn’t even there.

“The structure is astounding,” Alex said. “Dalton, do you have any idea what type of

wood was used to construct the early Victorians?” Lucy rolled her eyes. What was this, a pop quiz?

“Some, I assume, were built with a prefabricated framework,” Jake said.

“However—”

“Really, gentlemen, I think what Jake’s trying to say is—” Her father waved his hand, silencing her interruption. “I believe you’re mistaken, young man. Now, I understand someone like you could not possibly be aware of the

history and architecture of our fine city.”

Lucy was desperate to get Jake out of the line of fire. She stepped over to his side and tugged at his coat. “Would you like to dance?” she offered, giving him a visual signal

that hopefully he’d see as rescue.

“Actually, what I was saying is entirely accurate.” Jake stayed focused on her father,

ignoring her completely.

“What do you mean?” Raymond asked.

Oh dear. Now he’d stepped in it. “I’m sure Jake was just making polite conversation.

Really, Father, this inquisition is intolerable. Jake, let’s go.” As if he hadn’t heard her, Jake continued. “Some of these homes were built from prefabricated framework or plans that could be sent for in the mail, and others were

planned and designed by architects. But most were made from redwood, which was

available in abundance near the coast.”

“True,” Raymond stuttered. “But as far as the differing styles—” Jake went on as if her father hadn’t spoken. “While I can agree on you and Sheldon

favoring the Italianate and Eastlake styles of Victorians, my favorite is the Queen Anne.”

Lucy’s jaw dropped.

“The Queen Anne’s most distinguished feature is its steep gabled roof, a rounded turret corner tower, and a front porch usually inside the main structural frame.

Some

homes typically include a piece of each of the three mentioned styles, in which case they

are referred to as San Francisco style. I tend to prefer the blended architecture because it

showcases the finest aspects of all three.”

Lucy was stunned. She’d finally stopped trying to figure out a way to extricate Jake,

only to realize he was holding his own fabulously. The man knew architecture.

Her father and Alex tried a new tact. Politics. Followed by religion. And as they went on, attacking Jake’s intelligence with difficult questions on global warfare, economics, finance, and the stock market, Jake answered every single one of them

correctly.

They barraged him with questions, hoping to trip him up,