“Mmm, but my assistants are usually female or g*y and don’t look like him.” Lucas seemed to be swelling with the praise.
“My God, if you make his head any bigger he’s going to fall over, and that wouldn’t be very attractive,” I said.
“The only praise that would make my head swell would come from you, Miss Clarke,” he whispered so low my friends couldn’t hear it. Ugh, I hated how he called me “Miss Clarke” outside of the office. What was this, 1953?
“Secrets don’t make friends,” Sloane said, leaning in, as if he was going to share what he told me with her.
He did lean over to her and whisper something, but I didn’t think it was what he told me, because she gave him a look and then started laughing.
“You’re right,” she said, nodding.
What? What was he right about? Oh, this man was infuriating.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he said after I kicked Sloane under the table. She was going to be spilling her guts later when we got home.
“You already did that,” I said, my voice flat. Even Chloe had dragged herself out of her breakup misery to watch my interaction with Lucas. We must be entertaining.
“I could buy you another. Just say the word.”
“Actually,” I said, turning toward him, “I’m a little tired, so I think I’m going to go home. Sloane, why don’t you come with me?” I grabbed her arm, forcing her to get off the chair and pulling her through the crowd.
“Hey, it was just getting good,” she whined and pulled back against me. Where strength was concerned, Sloane would win, but I could always take her out at the kneecaps.
“Please? Can we go?” She shook her head and dug her heels in.
“I will go after you let him buy you a drink.”
“He already bought me one.”
“Let him buy you another. It’s not going to kill you.”
Oh, Jesus Christ, Mary and Joseph. I was going to murder her.
“One. Drink.” She beamed and dragged me back to the table where Lucas was wearing a similar grin. I wanted to slap it right off his face.
5
Sometimes, you say you’re going to have one drink and you have one drink. Go home and wake up refreshed and hangover-free.
And then sometimes you say you’re going to have one drink and one drink turns into two and the guy who has been buying you drinks and touching your back and your hair and making flutters in your stomach suggests that you go back to his place, and that also seems like a good idea (because of the drinks) and then you’re in a cab, on the way to his apartment with no idea how it happened. One drink. It was just going to be one drink.
“I’ve wanted to do this ever since you walked around that corner in those red heels,” he said and reached for me across the backseat of the cab where I’d tried to put as much distance between us as possible while I tried to come to my senses.
One of his hands reached out and gripped my chin, and he moved his face so close that I could count the freckles on his nose and smell the faintest hint of Scotch on his breath.
“Don’t move,” he said and then his lips met with mine in a kiss so sweet, I was twelve again and at my first dance. Feather light and brief, he pulled away and the space between us was back. He looked away from me and out the window.
The f**k?
That was it? One little innocent kiss? That’s all he’s got? What was with this guy?
I was fuming. Sitting in my seat with my arms crossed and fuming. All that teasing for nothing. He had to be screwing with me, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. I leaned forward to speak to the driver and tell him there was a change of plans before I gave him my address.
“Change your mind?” he said when he heard me tell the driver that I wanted to go to my own place. The driver sighed and looked for a place to make a U turn. This was probably for the best. This guy was not going to get the upper hand. This time I was shutting him down.
This was the last time I was going to see him. I would rip up his résumé. I wouldn’t even have Mrs. Andrews call him to say that he didn’t get the job. It was a bitchy move, but I needed this guy out of my life. He made me feel unstable, and I did not like feeling unstable.
“Yes. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have even let you buy me a drink, but Sloane made me.”
“Oh, so this is Sloane’s fault. I see.” Now he was mocking me.
“Look, I’m going back to my apartment and you’re going back to yours and I never want to see your face again.” Especially your chin dimple. And your eyes. And your hair.
“Fine, fine with me.”
He shrugged and went back to looking out the window. We were nearly to my place.
“There is something seriously, seriously wrong with you,” I said.
“Why do you say that?” He turned to me with a little smile.
“Are you serious? You barge your way into my office and turn my interview upside down. Then you won’t leave me alone at the bar. You buy me drinks, suggest that we go back to your place, tell me that you’ve wanted to kiss me since you first saw me, and then you do kiss me—the most tame kiss ever—and now you’re acting like this is completely normal behavior. Yes, there is something seriously wrong with you.”
“You thought the kiss was tame? Well, if you’re such an expert, why don’t you show me how I should have kissed you.” His eyes sparkled in the light of oncoming headlights. Ah, so this was his game. Okay, two could play at that. It was time to get the upper hand, so to speak.
“Okay, Lucas Blaine, I’ll show you a good kiss.”
I knew it was a terrible idea, but I had something to prove to him.
Slowly, I crawled across the space between us and he turned as I climbed into his lap. Ha. I hadn’t even done anything and he was hard. I could feel it pressing against his jeans as I straddled him, putting both hands on his shoulders and then moving them down his chest. I let one hand rest on the growing bulge in his pants, and I shifted a little, so he was pressing harder against me. I wanted to get a little something out of this, too.
Air hissed between his teeth as I moved the hand on his jeans and ground my hips, just a little. My other hand moved back up to his face, going around and tangling in his hair, wrapping my fingers in it.
Yes, it was soft as I thought it would be. I pulled a little, moving his head back, and he made a sound in his throat.
Good boy.
I was pretty sure the cabbie had already passed my place, but he was probably getting as much out of this as we were.