“Drink?”
I quickly look back, shocked. And judging by the look on her face, she’s shocked by her question, too.
She drops her eyes from mine, shaking her head. “I mean—”
“Sure.”
Her blues find me again in a heartbeat, and I spend a few wasted moments trying to convince myself to retract my stupid agreement. “I didn’t mean to ask that out loud.” She laughs a little.
“Well, you did. And I agreed.” I’m playing with fire, but damn, fire is bright, it’s hot, and it’s tempting. What are you doing, Christianson?
“Just a drink?” she asks.
“What else could there be?”
I detect a little wince that she tries to disguise by looking away. “I just need a drink.”
Need? She needs a drink? “Me too.” I definitely need a drink.
“Then let’s have one.” She points to the bar where I’ve been for hours.
Going back in that bar with Lainey would probably be my wisest move. It’s getting busy, and staff from my company will probably be finding their way there soon. If I go back in there, it’ll reduce the chances of me doing something monumentally stupid. Like touching her. Grabbing her. Confessing my fantasies. Telling her she’s constantly on my mind. “There’s a lounge bar down the street.” I indicate past her and watch as she glances over her shoulder, nodding a little.
“You want to go there?” she asks, as if thinking along the same lines as me.
“Do you?” I put the ball back in her court, and she turns, gesturing for me to lead the way, which I do, despite my mind screaming at me to run in the other direction.
Lainey falls into stride beside me and we walk slowly down the street, neither of us saying a word. But we’re both thinking hard, and I bet she’s thinking exactly the same thoughts as me. What the fuck are we doing?
I pull the door of the bar open for her and let her enter before following in behind, not able to remove my eyes from her back as she wanders through the small, cozy space, selecting a table at the very back in a dim corner.
That’s a bad move. Such a bad move. “Maybe here?” I suggest sensibly, forcing her to look back to me. I point to the bar, where there are a few empty stools on the end.
“Of course,” she agrees, looking away, embarrassed, taking up the very last stool.
I clench my teeth when she removes her jacket, revealing the perfectly fitted pencil dress. One of the sleeves has slipped from the shoulder, exposing the strap of a pink bra. Lord, give me strength. Quickly. I blink and look away, waving the barman over as I take a seat. I accidentally catch Lainey’s knee with mine, making her jerk. “Sorry.” I flinch, positioning myself with more care. “What are you having?”
“Anything strong,” she answers immediately. I throw her a questioning look that she ignores, pointing to the top shelf. “Rum would be good. No ice.”
Well, she did say she needed a drink. A strong one. And now I’m more curious than ever to know what has happened between her leaving work and now.
“Sir?” the barman asks.
“Just a beer, please.” Yes, I need a strong drink, but that doesn’t mean I should have one. Especially with Lainey on the hard stuff. Besides, I’ve sunk enough today already.
As soon as she has her rum in her grasp, she swallows half down and sighs rather than winces, which is what I’d expect from someone drinking a straight liquor. “Good?” I ask, collecting my beer and paying the barman.
She smiles, and it’s shy. “I needed that.”
Her answer offers me the perfect opportunity to enquire subtly. “I hope everything is okay.”
She sits back on her stool, glass in hand. “It will be,” she answers swiftly, cutting me dead in my tracks. “You’ve not been in the office much lately. Do you always work from home?”
“I’ve had a lot to get done.”
“Less distractions at home, I guess.”
I could laugh. She has no idea. “Something like that.”
“Distractions are problematic. They make you forget your objective.” Those eyes are on mine again, and she’s not moving them. “They make you stupid.”
“They do,” I agree quietly.
She watches me carefully. “I’m dealing with a big one right now.”
Her bluntness knocks me back a little. “You are?”
Lowering her drink, she swirls and looks down at the glass. “And so are you.”
I swallow as she slowly drags her eyes back up my torso and lifts her glass to her lips. My stunned stare follows it the entire way, watching as she downs the other half of her rum. “I am,” I agree, rightly or wrongly. I don’t know. All I know is that trying to dampen my insane want for this woman isn’t working. Maybe talking it through with her will help. Maybe she needs that, too, and then we can both figure out how we remedy it without actually fucking.
And maybe I’m a deluded twat.
“You can’t stop thinking about me,” she states quietly. My face remains straight, our eyes locked, but I don’t confirm it. I also don’t deny it. She raises her empty glass to her mouth and holds it on her bottom lip, pushing it into the flesh. My heart kicks in my chest. “I’m driving you insane,” she whispers.
I remain silent, letting her get her thoughts out, thoughts that are bang on the money, and not even as her boss can I find the will to deny it. The fire I’m playing with just notched up a thousand degrees.
Chinking her empty with my full bottle, she places it down and rests an elbow on the bar. “Am I right?”
I keep my mouth firmly shut. Because, of course, it’s not fucking obvious that she’s driving me insane.
“If it’s any consolation,” she goes on, giving me that small, soft smile, “I’m experiencing a similar distraction.”
I laugh lightly, for what reason I don’t know. This isn’t funny. “You’re not a distraction, Lainey. You’re a problem.”
Running a dainty hand through her blonde hair, she looks away, nodding as if agreeing. But then she looks so damn . . . sad. “I know,” she whispers. “But even if you could fuck me, Tyler, you shouldn’t.” She gets down from her stool and swings her coat over her shoulders. “Thanks for the drink.” Grabbing her bag, she passes me, but my hand is quick to shoot out and grab her wrist, stopping her. She can’t say that shit and expect me to accept it, even though I undoubtedly should. She can’t just leave.
“Why shouldn’t I?” I ask, for no point at all since I really can’t fuck her. “Why shouldn’t I fuck you if I could?”
Lainey rests her spare hand over mine on her wrist and slowly pulls it away. “But you can’t, so it’s of no consequence why you shouldn’t.” She reaches for my jawline and runs a hand over my scruff, thoughtful for a few moments. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your way, Mr. Christianson.”
“At work?”
“Yes.”
My jaw ticks, anger overtaking the bewilderment and frustration, and I take her hand from my face and push it away. “What about my head, Lainey? You going to fuck off out of there, too?”
She recoils a little, but soon gathers herself. “I’m not trying to tempt you, Tyler.”