Somehow he seemed to have mastered the art of looking at me with undisguised heat without Mr. Calloway catching on. He couldn’t have seen the looks Cox was giving me. I knew what he’d do if he caught someone eyeing his assistant like that. It had happened once at a lunch meeting. There had been several of us at the table and one of the other men had leered at me like I was for sale and he thought he could get me at a discount. Mr. Calloway’s voice had been cold enough to freeze a river of lava, and I’d been surprised the guy’s heart hadn’t stopped right there, encased in ice.
But there was no indication my boss noticed the sweep of Cox’s eyes from my face to my chest, the slight hitch in his jaw, or the way his lips twitched.
Why did he keep looking at me like that?
A hazy Vegas memory ran through my mind. Cox giving me that same look, only with more heat and less subtlety. The blaring noise and lights of the casino fading as he locked me in a predatory stare and lured me closer, like the helpless prey that I was.
An involuntary squeak left my throat. I turned away and coughed to cover it, but when I took a new breath in, I accidentally inhaled a droplet of my own saliva. My throat spasmed, closing off as if I were in danger of drowning.
Talk about an overreaction.
With my head still turned, I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle the coughing. My nostrils flared as the ragged breath I took tried to work its way past my clenched airway and into my lungs.
Another cough, then a real breath finally made it through. I swallowed, wishing I had—
Cox stood next to me, holding out an open bottle of water.
Wow. Wish granted.
I nodded and took the water, not trusting my throat to let me speak without descending into another coughing spasm. The cool liquid soothed as it slid down, easing that tiny spot of irritation that was causing me so much trouble.
Mr. Calloway watched me with his usual stoic expression, only a raised eyebrow betraying his concern.
“Sorry,” I said, my voice a little rough, and took another long swallow of water. “My throat got a tickle.”
Cox hesitated next to me, an odd expression on his face. It wasn’t alarm, exactly, nor was it the look of mild concern my boss was giving me. It was different. Deeper. And for a second, I had the strangest feeling that he wanted to scoop me in his arms and hold me.
Which was obviously ridiculous. He just wondered what the heck was wrong with me that I was coughing up a lung for no reason.
I lifted the now half-empty water bottle, my cheeks warming with embarrassment. “Thank you. Much better.”
“Of course.” He paused, still regarding me with that expression I couldn’t quite read. “Need anything else?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s all right.” He cleared his throat and went back to his seat.
Mr. Calloway’s phone buzzed and he drew it out of his pocket, his brow furrowing. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to take this.”
“There’s an empty conference room to the right,” Cox said.
He nodded and left to take his call.
Cox’s gaze swung to me, his cocky smirk out in full force now that we were alone. “Touchy gag reflex? That’s good to know.”
I scowled at him, but another cough ruined the effect. “I told you, I got a tickle in my throat.”
“I hate it when that happens.”
“It’s the worst.”
“You look beautiful today.” His eyes dipped to my chest again. “That dress is magnificent on you.”
My cheeks warmed again. “Thank you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’re wearing them, aren’t you?”
I knew exactly what he meant—and I was wearing them—but his question flustered me. I looked down at myself, as if I were trying to guess what he was talking about.
He chuckled softly. “Of course you are. I love that you wore them for me.”
“I didn’t wear them for you. I didn’t even know I was coming here.”
He just smiled.
“I’m serious. I didn’t know I’d see you today.”
“Speaking of seeing each other, it’s been too long. If we’re going to make this marriage work, we really need to put in more effort. I’ll hold myself responsible for my end, but I need you to meet me in the middle.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Aw, sugar, don’t be like that. Tell you what: You can make it up to me by going out with me tonight.”
“What? No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not going out with you.”
“Being married doesn’t mean I’m going to stop chasing you. We’ve gotta keep the magic alive. Put in the work.” He grinned at me again, his eyes dancing with mischievous fire.
A twinge of pressure between my legs almost made me squirm in my seat. I settled for a quick thigh clench, hoping he wouldn’t notice. I did not want him to think he was getting to me. He was incorrigible enough as it was. He didn’t need more encouragement.
“I can’t tonight.”
“How about this weekend?”
“I don’t think we should go out.”
“Why not?”
“Look at what happened last time. We got married. What are we going to do if we go out again? Make a—”
I stopped and quickly closed my mouth, pressing my lips together.
Don’t say it, Cox. Don’t say make a baby.
The evil grin that stole across his features nearly sucked the air from my lungs and sent a flurry of tingles down my spine.
“Make a what, sugar?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“Tell you what. Go out with me on Saturday and I won’t tell your boss that you’re my wife.”
My eyes widened and I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to see Mr. Calloway already standing there. I whipped back around and my voice was a low hiss. “You wouldn’t.”
“I’m trying not to be insulted that you seem to want to hide your husband from those closest to you.”
“We both know you’re not really my husband, and you’re not insulted that I didn’t tell my boss. Besides, he’d probably kill you if he knew.”
He chuckled. “I’d like to see him try.”
“Let’s not get into who’s the alpha male right now, please.”
“Then go out with me on Saturday.”
“You’re very accustomed to getting what you want, aren’t you?”
“Sugar, you have no idea.”
“And you’re not going to leave me alone until I agree, are you?”
“Now you’re gettin’ it.”
I let out a sigh. “Okay, Cox. I’ll go out with you. Although I have no idea why you want to go out with me.”
He smirked. Again. The cheeky bastard. “You’re my wife. Do I need a reason?”
I didn’t bother correcting him this time. Just rolled my eyes again. I had a feeling I knew what kind of game he was playing. He was confident to the point of cockiness. Accustomed to getting what he wanted. I’d known men like him in my life—my ex being a prime example. Men who could turn on the charm. Who knew how to use their gifts very, very well.