Her eyebrows raised and a smile twinged at the corners of her mouth. “Really?” she asked. “It was fine. You don’t need to buy me a gift.” And then she frowned.
I hadn’t expected this reaction. I’d wanted to make her smile, maybe smooth her hands through my hair and kiss me. “Okay.” I should tell her about lunch, get it out of the way. “And I have something to tell you.”
She opened the door and I followed her into her apartment, leaving the Jimmy Choos underneath her coat rack. She wasn’t even going to look at them? The door clicked shut behind us and instantly I knew I made a mistake. Suddenly I was back in Vegas. I couldn’t stop staring at her ass, wondering whether she was wearing a bra under her shirt. The buzz in my fingers grew stronger, and I had to take a deep breath to calm my rising pulse.
“You want a drink?” she asked.
“Sure, thanks.” Holding a glass would occupy my hands, stop them from wandering to the hem of her T-shirt, and skirting the smooth skin underneath.
She set two glasses on the small counter as I watched. She seemed unbothered by my presence, as if I was something other than wildly attracted to her.
She handed me a glass of lemonade and leaned against the cabinet. “So,” she said.
Her small, delicate fingers wrapped around her glass and I couldn’t help imagining how they’d feel, cooled by her drink, trailing down my chest.
“Max,” she said and I snapped my head up to look at her. “What did you have to tell me?”
Shit. I shifted my weight from one foot to both, trying to regain control. “I took your advice and called your father’s assistant.”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t call him my father.”
I nodded. I wanted to know why she so clearly didn’t like the man. Didn’t speak to him, but kept a dossier on his business investments. Didn’t want anything to do with him except to show him just how worthy of his attention she was. “Should we talk about this? I don’t really understand your history. And I’d like to.”
“Is talking about parents something you normally do with employees?” she asked, a frown creasing her forehead. She pushed off the counter and came toward me, clearly wanting me to move out of the way so she could leave the kitchen. Our bodies were close, the heat of her breath puffing against my shirt. I didn’t move. I liked having her close. I wanted more.
I ran my finger up her exposed neck and her lips parted, but as her eyes met mine, she pushed past me.
I turned to find her loitering by the door. “You should go,” she said, her eyes on the floor.
“I should,” I agreed. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay and peel off her T-shirt, bend her over the sofa, and slide into her. I stepped toward her and rested my hand on her hip.
“What did you have to tell me?”
Oh yes, lunch. Her presence, like some kind of fog, clouded my brain and my judgement.
She placed her hand on my arm and it drifted up to my shoulder. I had to consciously breathe.
“Max?”
Her clipped tone brought me to attention. “I called his assistant. She found a spot in his schedule.” Taking a half step closer, I smoothed my hand from her hip to the small of her back.
She raised her eyebrows as she tilted her head up to look at me. “That’s good, right?”
I nodded. “Except he seemed to be busy until I told her you’d be joining us.”
Dropping her hand from my shoulder, she took two steps to the side.
“And so you’re here. With gifts. And wandering hands.”
I took a step back, removing my hand from her warm body. “What? No.” Was that what this looked like? As if I were trying to bribe her? Seduce her into agreeing to lunch?
“Jesus, I know you think I’m an asshole. But, no.”
She shrugged. Didn’t she believe me? Fuck. This was why lines were better when they were clearly drawn—when business was business and fucking was fucking. I shouldn’t have come here.
“Don’t come to lunch.” I reached for the door. “The shoes weren’t anything to do with work. I bought them before my call with your father.” And my desire for her was nothing to do with Charles Jayne. She conjured that up all by herself.
Jesus, I should never have bought the shoes. Should never have come here. I stepped out of her apartment
“Max,” she said and I didn’t respond, letting the door shut behind me.
Chapter 11
Harper
I stood by Donna’s desk, shoulders back, ready for war.
It was eleven fifty. We needed to leave now if we were sure to be in Midtown on time for lunch with my father, but Max wasn’t in his office.
I hadn’t spoken to Max since he left my apartment. I’d expected Donna to send me a meeting request or to be summoned into Max’s office and told that me going to lunch with my father and Max was for the good of the team. The thing was I was happy to do it. Okay, not happy, but I was prepared to lunch with my father. I wanted to be seen on the winning team. Lunch could only help my goal if it meant we were more likely to be successful in our pitch.
I wore a navy dress, just above the knee with a scoop neck, and a matching, collarless jacket I’d had tailored to nip in at the waist. It was my lucky interview suit—and as close to Prada as I could afford.
“Donna, I need to leave,” Max said as he swept past me and into his office. Donna followed him and set the file she was carrying down on her desk.
Max appeared in his doorway. “Harper,” he said, fiddling with the collar on his navy jacket. I wanted to step forward and smooth my fingers over the fabric. He looked good. He always looked good.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
He just nodded and we headed to the elevators.
“Good luck,” Donna called after us.
We stood, silently waiting for the elevators, surrounded by employees of King & Associates.
I should also thank him for the shoes. He probably thought I’d been ungrateful but that wasn’t it. The present had taken me off guard and brought back memories of the extravagant gifts my father used to send me as a child to try to make up for the fact he’d forgotten my birthday or hadn’t turned up to visit me when he said he would.
Perhaps it was unwrapping the beautiful Jimmy Choo’s that changed my mind but as I thought about it, it occurred to me perhaps Max just didn’t get how his timing had sucked. The gift had been a thank you rather than a bribe. He probably hadn’t realized he’d looked as if he was trying to manipulate me with gifts and come-ons. With that realization came an understanding of some of his odd behavior on Saturday. I realized that for whatever reason, he was a little bit awkward with me. That clearly didn’t stop him trying to seduce me or fucking me as though it was his job. But outside of the seduction and the sex, he wasn’t so confident, so practiced.
As Max and I settled into the cab, which sped off uptown, we started to speak at the same time.
“I wanted to say sorry,” I said.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
We turned toward each other and he gave a small smile.
“The shoes were beautiful,” I said.
He looked away. “It was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have.” He dragged his hand through his hair and I gazed at his long fingers, knowing just how they felt all over my body.