His quip prompts one from me. I laugh. “I’ve drowned in worse.”
“How’s it going?”
“Great.”
He takes his coffee and wanders out. “Can’t wait to see the pitch.”
Slipping my cup under the spout of the machine, I select Americano. But nothing happens. “What’s the deal?” I ask out loud, standing back, out of shot, before gingerly pressing the button again. No coffee. “For fuck’s sake, you stupid fucking machine.” I know what this must look like. A growling, six-foot-four man cowering and yelling abuse to a metal box. But it holds caffeine. I need caffeine. “Why hasn’t anyone replaced this thing?” I shout, stabbing at the button again.
“There’s a knack.” The familiar, sexy as fuck voice drifts into the room, interrupting my argument with the machine, and I swing around coming face to face with Lainey. I swallow and quickly turn away before my out-of-control eyes and brain take in her perfection. Too late. After just a flash of a look, everything that is Lainey is catalogued. Her hair is down and wavy and glossy and gorgeous. Her face is fresh and beautiful and as striking as always. Her eyes are clear and bright and shimmering. She has a salad bowl in her hand, her coat laying over her arm. My dick drools over every salacious observation, starting to fill with blood. I wince, clenching my eyes shut. But I quickly snap them open again when a box of condoms infiltrates my darkness and leads to many more torturous thoughts.
It’s silent. Awkward again. After our confrontation on Tuesday evening, it’s hardly surprising. She certainly put me in my place, and I can’t deny there’s a little mortification mixed up with my . . . what? Fixation? But what’s she feeling? Smug? Superior? In control?
I need to grab my coffee and go. Except I haven’t got a coffee, because this stupid fucking machine refuses to give me one. I bite down on my back teeth, adamant I’m not going to ask for her help, and press the button again. Nothing.
“Here.” She’s next to me in a second, virtually brushing against my arm. Electric shocks attack me. So fucking many of them. And my fucking heart definitely just pinged. What the fucking hell? I jump away, and her hand pauses in midair on its way to the button I’ve been hammering repeatedly. The air around us thickens. “You need to be gentle with it,” she whispers, pushing lightly on the button.
My head turns of its own volition toward her. She’s looking at me intensely. Oh fuck. There’s a double meaning there. I’m not imagining it, and her eyes are only confirming it. Is she purposely trying to kill me, because I feel like I’m slowly dying? “Thanks for the heads-up.” My eyes drop to those rosy pink lips, finding her biting down gently on her bottom one.
Oh . . . fuck . . . yeah.
“Anytime.” Her mouth moves slowly, hauling me further under her spell. Anytime. Anytime. Anytime. I need to be gentle with it anytime. “Nice suit.” She nods at my chest.
“Nice dress.” I nod at her body, taking in air, hearing her laugh a little. Oh, damn, that sound makes me shudder. “Good week?” I ask.
“Very. You?”
I guess it wouldn’t be appropriate to tell her that my week has been hell-ish and it’s all her fault. “Great, thanks.”
“Hope you haven’t been stood up again,” she says quietly. My forehead goes heavy with a frown, and she catches it as she removes my coffee from the machine and holds it out to me. “Your friend on Tuesday night.”
“Oh.” I take the coffee, hissing under my breath when my hand skims hers. I avoid her eyes and concentrate on keeping hold of the cup. “Family emergency. Couldn’t be helped.” There goes my mind again, off to that hotel, wondering how her evening panned out after our confrontation. I bet it was significantly better than mine, and that positively sucks. Not for her, of course. I inwardly wince. “How was your evening?” Where the fuck did that question come from? How many condoms are left in the box? What the fuck, Christianson?
“Pleasant,” she muses, placing a mug under the spout. Pleasant? Not amazing. Or mind-blowing. Or out of this world. Just pleasant? Why does that please me? Now, if that had been me in the hotel bar with her, she wouldn’t be able to walk for the rest of the week. And I would be one deliriously happy man. And my cock would finally pipe down in my trousers. “But definitely not my Mr. Perfect,” she adds.
“Oh?” I fucking knew it. I saw him. I saw her. That shit was never gonna work. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m the fool who keeps dating highly unsuitable men.”
Am I highly unsuitable? I laugh on the inside. Without doubt. “You’re not a fool. I’d say they’re the fools.” I look into her eyes as she slowly turns her full body toward me, her head tilted in silent contemplation, her smile reserved. She’s trying to suss me out, and for reasons unbeknown to me, that makes me feel extremely vulnerable. Why? Every woman I encounter tries to suss me out. It’s never bothered me before, but this woman seems to be sending my usual cool self into chaos. My control is slipping. I want to kiss her. More than I’ve ever wanted to kiss a woman before.
“You think?” she asks quietly.
“I know,” I reply, my body slowly starting to turn, too, bringing our fronts closer, my nose immediately invaded by her distinct scent. Oh shit, what the hell am I doing? I don’t know, but I know I can’t stop myself. “So you won’t be seeing him again?”
“No.”
“Shame.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t know, is it?” Walk away, Christianson!
“I’ve had no better offers.”
I want to fuck you. How does that sound for a better offer? “Maybe something better will come along when you least expect it.”
She nods mildly, chewing her lip as she stares right into my eyes. “Could have already.”
My head tilts, and I stare right back, feeling like I’m being hypnotized. Could have already?
A door slams, snapping me out of my trance, and I shoot back like I’ve been electrocuted, my coffee sloshing over my hand. “Bollocks,” I hiss.
Gina’s standing on the threshold of the kitchen, eyebrows high, taking in the scene. I feel my cheeks heat, and my cock shrinks at the sight of my PA studying me accusingly. Lainey coughs and turns toward the coffee machine.
“Nice talking,” I say, striding away, ignoring Gina’s face following my path as I hurry back to my office, my mind racing. Fucking hell, that was close, and our conversations are way too inappropriate. And the way she looks at me . . .
So not only do I need to avoid looking at her, I also need to avoid talking to her. Lainey, Lainey, Lainey.
No sooner have I swung the door closed behind me, it’s swinging open again. I cringe, not needing to look to see who’s in my office with me.
“Well that explains everything,” Gina says, slamming the door.
I sit down, forcing a blasé façade, and take a casual sip of my coffee. “What are you talking about?”
“You.” She stomps over and dumps herself in the chair, making her boobs jump beneath her red silk shirt. “You’ve not been yourself all week, hiding away in here, avoiding meetings, calling everyone here instead of venturing to anyone else’s office. And now I know why. You’re hiding. Because you want to fuck Sal’s new PA, and you can’t. And it’s driving you mad.”