I want to cancel my date with Richard; tell him something came up and I can't make it tonight or ever. I want to go back to last night, when Jason had his arms around me and I could pretend what he said didn't matter because I wasn't that girl.
But I am her.
He says he doesn't care that I'm rich, that he said what he did because he was angry, but what he said stung. I've heard it far too many times, from far too many mouths. They shout me down and don't take me seriously because of how I was raised. I try not to let it get to me, but it does. I have hopes and dreams and value as a person and as a woman, but no one ever sees those things. They never see me. Just my father, the home I grew up in, and the fortune that will eventually become my responsibility.
Without even knowing me, Jason made the same assumptions about me, dismissing me as spoiled. How will he feel when he knows exactly how much money my father is worth? When he sees the way I grew up? I was a spoiled little rich girl who never wanted for anything. I still am, or I would be if I let my dad pay for everything like he tries to do.
I'm more than a little afraid to find out what Jason will think of me then. I already can't stop thinking about him. If I get close to him and then have to let him go later…it's going to break my heart into little pieces. And being broken does not sound like fun. In fact, it sounds like something I should very much avoid.
"Admit it," I mutter to myself, pushing around the stack of files on my desk. "You're a big coward, Miranda Dawes."
"I love you anyway."
I look up to see Lauren standing in the doorway. She's always so put together, but she looks frazzled now. Her lipstick is smudged, and her jet-black hair is mussed. She's flushed, her hazel eyes wide behind her glasses, which are sitting askew on her face.
"Did you run up here?" I ask her.
"No." She huffs out a breath, peeking over her shoulder like she expects to find Satan nipping at her heels. She relaxes infinitesimally when she sees that the hallway behind her is clear. "I thought I'd never lose him," she mutters beneath her breath before looking at me again.
"Lose who? Are you okay?" I demand, slightly alarmed. I've only known Lauren for six months, but we've gotten really close and I have never seen her so out of sorts. She's usually cool as a cucumber, completely unflappable. I honestly envy her a little.
Nothing ever gets her down for long. She's a little more reserved than Joey and maybe even a bit shy at times, but she has this amazing outlook on life. She's also hysterically funny and one of the nicest people I've ever met. I don't think she's ever had a bad word to say about anyone, not even her mom who is horrible to her.
"It's lunchtime," she says, glancing over her shoulder again. "Can we go? I'll explain on the way."
As much as I want to press for answers now, the gleam in her eyes says to move now and ask questions later. So I swallow back my questions and grab my purse and phone, hopping up from my seat. She sighs her relief, sending my curiosity ratcheting up about eighty notches. We are definitely going to be discussing whoever she's hiding from over lunch.
"Can we take the stairs?" she asks, grabbing my hand when I step out into the hall and turn toward the elevator.
"For five flights?" I look at my shoes and then at her. My feet still hurt from last night, but I couldn't resist wearing my lavender Jimmy Choo's. They're not quite stilettos, but they're a good three inches. They're also adorable and they match my top.
"Please?"
"Fi…"
"There you are," a man growls, stomping down the hall toward us, his dark eyes locked on Lauren. He has a bit of an accent. Russian, I think. He looks like an angry God descending on us, his angular jaw and broad shoulders squared like he's ready for battle. Even then, I can't help but notice how he's staring at Lauren like she's a priceless work of art.
"Dammit," my friend whispers beneath her breath. "He found me."
My gaze drifts to the man beside him, and my heart flutters.
Jason. He's staring right at me.
How did he get even more attractive in the last four hours?
And why am I so happy to see him?
My stupid heart is such a traitor. So is my body, because every cell inside me lights up the closer he comes, until energy crackles inside me and the ache from this morning comes roaring back into sharp focus, like it was just waiting for this moment to remind me that it's there.
His lips quirk up into the same lazy grin he gave me last night, the one that no sane woman could possibly resist. The one that says he knows I'm thinking bad thoughts and he likes it. The one that has me thinking even more bad thoughts.
I think I need more Jesus in my life.
Clearly all those rosaries I said in Catholic school did not have the desired impact.
"I'm joining a convent," I mutter to Lauren, my gaze locked on Jason like I can't look away. I honestly don't think I can look away. He's working some sort of sexual voodoo on me, turning me into a sex-starved, obsessed lunatic. This is what Sister Ethel warned us about.
"Can I come with you?" Lauren asks.
"Where you goin', pretty baby?" Jason asks, cocking his head to the side to study me through hooded eyes. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip.
"Hell, probably."
Lauren chokes beside me.
Jason's grin widens.
Jesus, take the wheel. Please?
"I mean lunch," I mumble.
"We will go with you," his companion decides, still staring at Lauren.
"No way," she objects. "You weren't invited, Knox."
"If you're going, I am going."
"I don't want you to go."
"Yes, you do, sweetness. Do I need to remind you again?"
Lauren's face turns red enough to match her lipstick.
Interesting. We definitely have things to talk about. Like what she's been up to since I left the bar last night because she's certainly been up to something with the giant standing in front of her. He's staring at her like he wants to pin her up against the wall and do dirty things to her.
"I missed you, Minnie," Jason murmurs, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The back of his hand brushes my cheek, instantly sending my body temperature climbing. He drops his hand back to his side, still studying me.
"I, um…" I flounder for something to say but come up with nothing. I missed him too. Way more than I think I should have. How am I supposed to resist him when no part of me wants to do that?
"You're a bully," Lauren growls at Knox, who I'm guessing is the other security guy Grant hired. He's dressed just like Jason, with a gun in a shoulder holster beneath his jacket. I think he was a police officer too. He certainly looks scary enough to have been one.
"I would never be mean to you, sweetness," Knox says, his tone somber and serious.
Lauren's expression softens, her annoyance evaporating. "Fine," she huffs, "you can go with us, but only because I'm hungry and arguing with you is wasting time."
Knox grins, looking wolfish and pleased with himself. He wraps an arm around my best friend, leading her toward the elevators. He tips his head down to whisper something to her, but I can't hear what it is or what she says in response.