“Well, good luck with that.”
“Thanks. I’m Martha. You are?”
“Sal,” I mumble without thought.
“Nice to meet you, Sal. Here we are.” She stops, and I look at the door she’s currently standing in front of.
“Oh fuck,” I breathe, dropping the bags as I stare at the number on the wood.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yep.” I start backing away, wondering, again, what the hell I plan on doing now I’m here. “Nice meeting you.”
Her forehead furrows, and I laugh nervously, but before I can make a dash for it, the door swings open and Lainey appears, smiling. Until she sees me.
Oh . . . double . . . fuck.
Her bright eyes widen as she catches the side of the door. “Ty,” she breathes.
I raise a pathetic hand in a silent hello.
“Wait,” Martha says, flicking her eyes back and forth between Lainey and me. “You know each other?”
“No,” I say.
“Yes.”
Both our mouths snap shut, and Martha looks between us. “Yes or no?”
Lainey takes a deep breath and shakes her head. It’s in despair. “Martha, this is my boss, Ty Christianson. Mr. Christianson, this is my sister, Martha.”
Martha balks. “You said your boss was short, bald, and ordinary. He”—she points at me—“is definitely not short, bald, and ordinary.”
Lainey fires a look at Martha that’s telling her to shut the hell up, and I laugh, standing tall and running a hand through my thick waves. Nope. I’m none of those things. “He’s my other boss,” Lainey clarifies.
“Nice to meet you, Martha.” I hold my hand out and smile.
She narrows questioning eyes on me, and my smile falls, my six-foot four-inch frame shriveling a little. She’s quite formidable for such a small thing. “And you live in this block?” she asks.
“What?” Lainey pipes in.
“Ah.” I hold a finger up, rootling through my brain for a feasible explanation.
“He was loitering outside,” Martha says. “I let him in after he disarmed me with that smile of his. He told me he’d just moved in.”
“I wasn’t loitering,” I object. God, they make me sound like a stalker.
“Then what were you doing?” Lainey asks.
“Yeah, what were you doing?” Martha backs up her sister.
I relent to their interrogation and admit what they already know. “I was loitering.” For fuck’s sake. It actually hurt to say that.
Martha smirks, like she’s achieved something monumental. She has. My ego is severely dented. Dipping, she collects the bags at my feet. “I’ll leave you to deal with your stalker,” she says to Lainey as she goes into the apartment.
“I’m not a stalker,” I yell, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my trousers moodily.
“You sure?” Lainey asks, moving into the corridor and pulling the door closed behind her.
I ignore her. “Not going to invite me in?” She doesn’t look ill at all. Is there a man in there?
“No.”
I hum to myself, thinking. “You have company?”
Lainey frowns. “No.”
“You don’t look ill.”
“I feel better now.”
I scowl. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
I sag. I’m being stonewalled at every turn. So I resort to my famous charm. “Worried you might not be able to resist my irresistible magnetism again?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Her continued bluntness and straight face stumps me. “Why did you really not come to work today?”
“I was feeling unwell. So you can rest at ease.”
“Rest at ease? Why?”
“In case you were worried you’d upset me and I was avoiding you.”
I think this woman could drive me insane for more reasons than simply desire. I did upset her. I saw the damn tears, and now she’s being all brash and playing unaffected. I’m not buying it.
“Is that all, Mr. Christianson?” She gives me expectant eyes, and I shrug.
“I guess so.”
“Good.” She turns.
“Lainey, wait.”
Sighing tiredly, she seems to drag her body back around to face me. “I thought we’d agreed we were going to forget about it.”
I hate the sound of that. And it’s bullshit. “I don’t remember agreeing.” And I know even though she suggested sweeping it under the carpet like it never happened, she didn’t really want to. So again, why the hell is she so adamant? There’s more to it than a fear of being hurt by me, or me being her boss.
Lainey turns to leave again, and my desperation gets the better of me. “Just have a coffee with me,” I blurt, praying like I’ve never prayed before that she’ll agree.
“Why?” She doesn’t turn to face me, but she also doesn’t shrug me off. It’s a glimmer of hope, just a glimmer, but I seize it with both hands and swoop in, turning her around and pulling her into my chest. Her breath hitches, and her hammering heart pushes into my pecs. That glimmer just turned into a flash of lightning. I’ll make her remember how amazing Friday night was. It’s done? Yeah, it’s done, my arse.
Taking her chin, I lift her face until I have her eyes and dip, pressing my lips against hers gently, slowly coaxing her mouth open. And as soon as she relaxes, I dip my tongue and lazily roll it around hers. She sighs. “That’s why,” I whisper, stroking up her back until my palm finds her nape. I hold her in place and make sure she feels the passion of my kiss—a passion I’m not having to work hard to find. It’s natural. Not to say I’m never into it when I kiss other women, and I’ve kissed a lot. But it’s part of my game. Women love kissing, so I kiss the fuck out of them. But with Lainey, it’s not a chore. Or a necessary part of my arsenal to get her into bed. No, it’s because I can’t be this close to her without tasting her. This is genuine, and there’s no room through my pleasure to analyze exactly how much shit this means I’m in.
Lainey gently brings our consuming kiss to a gradual stop, leaving our lips just touching. It’s just as gratifying. I hear her swallow, her head dropping, and then she slowly pulls away from me. I let her go, though it pains me, and watch as she backs up, taking the handle of her door blindly and pushing her way into her apartment. Her fingers come up to her lips, feeling softly, and her eyes drag up my torso until they find mine.
I hold her sparkling blues, relishing her shallow breathing. She feels it. How could she not? “See you at work,” I say quietly as the door comes between us, robbing me of the beautiful sight of her. But I don’t let it take me into despondency. I’m on too much of a high after kissing her and myself into oblivion again.
GINA’S WAITING FOR ME WITH my coffee when the elevator doors open. “Morning.” I take my caffeine before my trusty assistant can ransack my mind and get in on my thoughts. “What’s on the agenda today?”
“I don’t know. You fired me, remember?” she snipes, tailing me.
I laugh. “You’re here, aren’t you?”