Chapter 18

Felicity snuggled into her couch, an Egyptian history book propped on her slightly bent legs. She held a highlighter between her index and middle finger, flicking it back and forth as she perused the chapter on the upper and lower kingdoms. Survey of Egyptian History was one of the most interesting classes she was taking this semester. Lust, power struggles, betrayals, rising and falling empiresit was a history major's dream.

She uncapped her highlighter and marked a passage that explained how the Nile flowed from south to north. Flipping to the next page in her textbook, she found a picture of Elizabeth Taylor from the classic movie Cleopatra. She was lying on a thin purple couch, one hand raised in a seductive come hither gesture. The queen of Egypt certainly had confidence in spades. Felicity envied her for that.

Felicity shut her eyes. It wasn't Elizabeth Taylor on the couch, but her. Eyes darkened by kohl, almost catlike in her steady gaze, she gestured for Marc Antony to come to her. Only it wasn't Richard Burton playing Marc Antony, but Jared. His skin was golden from hours in the sun, and his hair was a little longer, enough to thread her fingers through and grasp the silky strands.

His eyes were hot like the desert sand when the sun was at its zenith in the sky, burning and inescapable. He strode to her in slow, sure steps, his body shielded in armor that molded to his chest and a burgundy-red tunic beneath the leather waist flaps that covered his hips. Leather wrist bands wider than her palms covered his arms, adding a lethal look to him. He put one knee on the couch by her hip and braced one hand next to her head at the base of the couch where she leaned back against a pillow. Felicity skimmed her palms up the shaped silver muscles of the armor. The metal was cool beneath her fingertips as she traced his pectorals before she lifted her gaze to his. She was caged against the couch by his body, and the thrill of her captivity made the blood burn in her veins.

"So beautiful." His voice was soft and dark, like a heady sip of red wine.

He stroked her cheek with his knuckles, then moved them down over her neck and breasts. Her nipples pebbled beneath the thin silk of her dress. His dark lashes fanned down as he watched her flush and arch into his touch. As Jared cupped one of her breasts and then gently squeezed, a bolt of heat and desire drew a gasp from her. Ashamed of her own wanton reaction, she bit her lip and angled her face away from him.

"Never hide from me, never," he growled at her, and turned her face back. He lowered his head, and she tipped hers back, her entire body aching, her soul crying out for his

Wump! Her textbook hit the carpet with a thud, and she bolted upright. The book was facedown, pages bent at odd angles, and her highlighter had rolled several feet away.

Had she fallen asleep? Or had the daydream been too intense? She shifted and then flushed as she realized her body was hot and definitely bothered­and wet. God, how embarrassing. She rubbed her face with her hands. What did it say about her that she couldn't even read about ancient Egypt without thinking about Jared, about kissing him, about his hands on her body?

Leaning over her couch, she hooked her fingers around her hidden sketchbook and slid it out. Whenever she needed to clear her head she always reached for her pad and pencil. She flipped through the other sketches until she got to a blank page. She smoothed her fingers over its surface, listening to the way the paper whispered beneath her caress. Then she picked up one of her medium graphite pencils and started to draw.

An hour later she stared at the finished sketch, pleasure and embarrassment mingling within her to the point that her face was hot and she was biting back a smile. A man leaned over a woman on a couch, distinctive Roman and Egyptian clothing identifying it as the image of her fantasy. Maybe she should start calling Jared "Gladiator." A snort escaped. He'd love that. Yeah, right. Besides, she wasn't going to be around him again, at least not by choice and not alone where she could call him a nickname. The thought was oddly depressing. She would have loved to see his face if she did call him that.

Her phone vibrated on the arm of the couch, and she picked it up to answer.

"Hey, it's me."

Felicity rolled her eyes. Only Layla would say that, as if there was no doubt in the world who "me" was.

"What's up?" She tucked the phone in the crook of her neck and shoulder as she bent over to slide the sketchbook back under the couch.

"Word is Thad Worthington is going to ask you to go out to a club tonight."

Her phone slid from her hand and hit the floor.

"Hello? Helloh?" Layla's shout was still audible from the floor. Felicity scrambled to pick it up.

"How do you know Thad Worthington, and what do you mean he's going to ask me out?"

Layla scoffed. "You're kidding, right? I don't reveal my secret sources. That's why they're called secret."

Sometimes Felicity wanted to strangle her friend. "Okay, so if this is all secret or something, why did you even call me?"

"Uh, to make sure you say yes when Thad calls. I thought that was fairly obvious." Irritation oozed out of Layla's tone, the tone she used on her younger sisters when they pestered her. Rather than upset Felicity, it made her feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. Layla often treated her more like a sister than a friend.

Felicity closed her eyes and sighed. "No way. I'm not going out with Thad. If I went out with anyone, I'd" She bit her tongue to keep from saying she'd go out with Jared.

"I know he's not your kind of guy. Trust me. I know you, Felicity. But if you go out with him, it will make the one guy you do want go crazy."

"What?" She shook her head as confusion filled her. Layla wasn't making any sense.

"Look, don't you want to make Jared jealous? He's into you but won't make a move unless he's crazy jealous."

Felicity's eyes flew open, and she scowled. "Layla, I don't want to make Jared jealous. He's not into me, not really." Even if he had said he liked her and wanted her, she didn't believe him. She couldn't believe him.

The answering giggle from her friend might as well have been a doomsday bell ringing out.

"What?" she demanded sharply.

It took a few seconds for Layla to get control of herself before she replied. "Jared called me and was all like, 'She's mine! Don't let her go to the club with Thad, blah blah blah.' Don't you see? Crazy jealous. We've got to work that until he's so desperate he makes a move."

Little did Layla know about the moves he'd already made and how Felicity had come undone. Her cheeks flamed at the rush of memories.

"I really don't want to do that, okay? I'm not ready for a relationship, and"

"I know you're busy and you have no time, but you can't let it hold you back. You are missing out on life. As your best friend, I'm not going to let you do that. So get your best dress out and be ready for me and Tanner to pick you up, okay?"

There was no arguing with Layla, she knew that. "Fine."

"Good." Layla hung up.

A split second later her phone rang. Was she going to have a minute alone tonight without Layla hounding her? She answered without looking at the screen. "I said I'd go tonightyou don't have to make me swear it or anything."

"Oh?" Thad's rich voice came through the phone speaker. "That's excellent. You've read my mind."

Even though she expected Thad to call, it was still a shock.

"Um, Mr. Worthington?"

"Please, call me Thad." His chuckle was soft and full of amusement, as though that happened at all the time.

"Sorry. I thought you were someone else when I answered," she explained as she climbed off the couch and headed into the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Ah, that makes sense. Well, I had a nice time at the gallery yesterday, and I wanted to know if you'd like to come out with me tonight. I have a VIP area at Club Amazon downtown."

There it was, the question. How did she answer?

"Oh, well I was actually already going. My friend Layla invited me. I suppose I could meet you there?" She clenched her free hand on her thigh and hoped he'd accept that. It wouldn't be a date, at least not in the normal sense. She wouldn't be betraying Jared. Still, they weren't together, so even a date wouldn't technically be a betrayal. She just didn't want to do that to him.

"All right­" Thad seemed puzzled. "I could pick you up," he suggested.

"That's not necessary. My friend said she was already on her way to get me." Not the truth, but it would have to work. She didn't want Thad anywhere near her apartment. She knew the sort of man he was, the kind she didn't want to have anywhere near her bed. He was trouble. It wasn't that she was afraid he'd force her to do anything; she just had a sense he was a man who would talk a woman right out of her clothes before she realized it. She'd much rather have a man she trusted in her apartment, someone like Jared. Not that Jared would ever be in her apartment again.

"Well, then I'll see you at nine?" Thad asked in that smooth, liquid voice. Strangely it made her miss the way Jared sounded when he talked to her with a whiskey-rough rumble when he was close to kissing her.

"Yeah. See you then." She waited for the line to disconnect, and then she poured herself a glass of water and took a long, slow drink. How was she going to get through tonight?