No Kissing Allowed

Chapter 17: The Netherfield Ball

Chapter 17: The Netherfield Ball

"Would you mind removing your pants?"
Cora struggled to keep a straight face. Her cheeks ached from the effort.

Meanwhile Jamie, continuing his unbroken streak of being the most impossible person she'd ever met, chose this moment to cease all advances and revert once again to languid indifference.

He did not remove his pants. "Sorry," he replied instead, as he lowered his foot to the floor. "You'll have to buy me dinner first."

Never mind the fact that they'd require a sea-going vessel to reach the nearest restaurant. Cora scowled. Was this his way of shutting her down?

Clearly, nothing was going to happen between them tonight. He was all talk, no action. Maybe he'd never had any intention of sleeping with her. Or, maybe she'd blown it during their little spat just now. Moments ago, she'd been throwing every insult in the book at him. Now she was throwing herself.

Talk about a mood shift. Cora didn't consider herself a fickle person by nature—more like stubborn to a fault—but Jamie's abrupt course corrections had her reeling in response.

She held back a sigh. Let it go, she told herself. Say goodnight and go to bed. What was she thinking anyway, attempting a one night stand with this life-sized Men's Health photo-spread sprawled before her? Things like that didn't happen in real life. Not to normal people. She needed to stop dreaming and get a grip.

She hadn't been dreaming last night though. There was no mistaking Jamie's interest then. Cora clung to that memory for balance as her thoughts pitched and rolled inside her head. No, she wasn't imagining things. Jamie might not consider her the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, but he found her attractive enough for a one-nighter.

Why wouldn't he? It was an ideal situation for both of them. Two ships passing in the night, as he had said. No need to get too personal. And no messy emotional consequences to be dealt with in the morning.

Tomorrow, they would never see each other again.

But tonight...

Tonight, she had one goal. Physical contact. Skin on skin. With zero emotional involvement.

Jamie sat on his bed before her, supporting his weight on his elbows. In this position, she had the advantage of height. She used it to look down the bridge of her nose. "I'd buy you a drink," she said airily, "but some neanderthal stuck his bare foot in our ice bucket."

"That's a pity." He curled forward and stood in a smooth motion, encroaching on her space. Cora inched backward to make room, but he stopped her. He reached for the dangling ends of the belt from her bathrobe, but not to loosen it. He made a loop and began tying it, slowly and deliberately, into a bow.

Cora's fingers twitched. See? She wasn't dreaming now. He was standing too close for her to mistake his intentions. She fought the urge to grab his t-shirt and pull it up over his head.

Instead, she kept still. The picture of composure. Perfectly at ease. Entirely unbothered by the fact that he could give her belt one good yank, and she'd be standing naked before him.

She was starting to discern the pattern in Jamie's mood shifts. It was almost like a dance. When one partner pushed forward, the other stepped back. When he stepped back, he wanted her to push forward. Like the salsa class she'd taken with Steven once upon a time, back when they were first engaged. When she was still hoping the relationship could somehow be salvaged...

Cora stiffened at the memory. She shrugged away the involuntary shudder and pushed the thought out of her head.

Jamie didn't seem to have noticed, luckily. He had his head tilted sideways, considering his handiwork as he tied and re-loosened the bow. "The real pity," he said, as if reading her thoughts, "Is that we never had our Netherfield Ball. I was looking forward to it."