Fuck.
“I don’t…know what to say to that.”
“Be less obvious when you lie,” Court said with a wink. Then he downed his drink and headed to the group dancing. “Hey, don’t let Gavin have all the fun.”
I glanced around the room in frustration. I didn’t want to leave. I wasn’t ready to go back to my small, sad apartment in Brooklyn. I’d been in New York for a year, and I still hadn’t made any lasting friendships. The guys I’d worked with at the law firm always felt more like colleagues than friends. This was the most fun I’d had in the city, period.
But at the same time, I wasn’t sure I should or even could continue to watch Lark move her body in ways that my brain and my cock remembered vividly.
“Sam!” Whitley cried from where they were dancing.
She crooked her finger at me, but I shook my head. She rolled her eyes, clearly not taking no for an answer. Then she left the group and dashed toward me.
She grabbed my arm with more force than a tiny pixie of a girl should be able to. “Dance with us!”
And I should say no.
Not a single part of this was smart.
But I let Whitley drag me over anyway.
A minute later, even Camden and Katherine were dancing with us. Which, if I had to guess by the others’ expressions, was out of character for them both.
I let the concern wash away from me. We were all dancing and having a good time. I finished my drink and had a pleasant numbness come back over me. Maybe it would be fine to do this. To pretend to be the kind of guy who drank top-shelf liquor in a box at the hottest nightclub in New York City. To spend time with Lark outside of work. Even if she seemed both exactly the same and completely different and I couldn’t decide which I preferred.
Then the song changed from whatever techno beat had been playing to a remix of Ellie Goulding’s “Lights.” Without even meaning to, I drifted into Lark’s personal space. Her eyes widened with alarm and something else. Something I remembered all too clearly. Heat. We moved closer. Our bodies almost but just not quite touching.
“This song,” she whispered.
I nodded. This song had played over and over and over again when we had worked on the presidential campaign together. At some point, it had just become our song.
“What are the chances?” I asked her.
“With us?” She bit her plump bottom lip. “Always.”
And then the hairbreadth space vanished. Her arms wound around my neck. Mine found her hips, my hands digging into the material of her slinky green dress. Our bodies moved in time, remembering the hours and hours we’d spent together. The easy way she moved. The pace I set. The time we had done all this with no clothes at all.
“This feels…familiar,” she breathed into my ear.
I closed my eyes. “We used to do this.”
She leaned her forehead into my shoulder before whispering boldly, “We used to do a lot of things.”
Jesus Christ.
My grip tightened on her. “Yes…yes, we did.”
She was just drunk enough to pull back and look up at me with those big green eyes so full of want. Her tongue flicked out and wet her bottom lip, drawing my attention to them. She was so close. So familiar. So…Lark.
I could kiss her. I could kiss her right now.
Except I couldn’t.
“I have to go,” I said, dropping my arms and taking a step back.
Her mouth popped open in shock. Her hands fell to her sides. “Go? Go where?”
“Home,” I said automatically.
Her eyes hardened into something lethal.
There she was. That was the Lark I knew.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” Then I took another step back.
“Yeah,” she said in confusion, “work.”
I forced myself to turn around and walk out of the nightclub. Because if I stayed another moment, against all reason, I’d kiss her. And I didn’t trust myself not to.
6
Lark
Sam made no sense.
None.
At all.
I was still fuming about his abrupt departure and then the subsequent cold shoulder at work. One minute, he had been a dick to me. And the next, I had been in his arms, about to kiss him. Then he’d freaked the fuck out and ditched the entire party. Hello, mixed signals.
English just thought this was proof that I needed to leave Sam in the past where he belonged. I wished that she was still in New York instead of back in LA. Katherine and Whitley had polar-opposite advice about the whole thing, and I felt battered back and forth like a tennis ball.
Luckily, I had work to keep me company. The fundraising banquet for the mayor was tomorrow, which meant the office was in full panic mode. I barely had time to think, let alone eat lunch or take a break. We had to finalize all plans today, and then I’d head over with the advance team in the morning to make sure everything was set up.
I was reviewing the paperwork that Demi had just sent out to the team. It included the full script for tomorrow and everyone’s specific jobs for the event. My eyes narrowed when I saw Sam’s name next to legal staff.
I sighed.
Of course they’d send Sam to the banquet. He was the new guy. It made perfect sense. But that meant that I wouldn’t even be able to escape him tomorrow. I bristled and wondered if I could convince Gibbs to send someone else. He was in charge of the legal department. But I wouldn’t be able to tell him why I wanted someone else without lying. Saying that I wanted someone with more experience. But it was bullshit. It would just draw more questions.
I flipped to the next page when a notification for an incoming email appeared on my screen. I almost closed out of it, but then I saw the name attached.
Why was Sam emailing me?
I narrowed my eyes as I clicked on the email and watched it pop up on my screen.
Lark,
Do you need a break? Want to go get coffee?
Best,
Sam
A thrill ran through me before I could prevent it. I wanted to get coffee with Sam. I wanted him to think of me when he went on break. But at the same time, this was just another one of those fucking mixed signals. Why would he want to go get coffee after what happened when we went out?
Unless he wanted to apologize.
I closed my eyes and slowly counted to ten. I didn’t have time for this. For whatever Sam was going through. I’d turned over a new leaf. I wasn’t the same Lark I’d been when we first met. And I didn’t want to play games. I didn’t want to deal with any of this.
No matter how familiar things seemed.
I remembered how it had ended. And I just needed to keep reminding myself of that.
Sam,
The banquet is tomorrow. No time for breaks. There’s coffee in the break room.
—Lark
I gulped before I hit Send. It was abrupt. And said everything I hadn’t.
Translation: I don’t want to see you. Even if I had a few minutes, I would rather drink the shit break room coffee than step out of the office with you.
I pulled up the banquet itinerary again and then nearly groaned as another email came in. Had he not understood the first one?