I thought for sure he was just another asshole, using me, fucking countless other women while he was with me, but after his visit yesterday, I don’t think that’s right. Maybe Baz isn’t the guy I had him pegged as. Maybe there’s more to the man with the perfectly tailored suits and delicious shiver-inducing smirks. I want there to be more because the way Baz looked at me last night? No one has ever looked at me like that.
There is no one else. No competition. No nothing.
My insides quiver just thinking about it.
I finally decide on a simple, comfortable outfit that has just enough sex appeal to remain stylish and not hoboish. I opt for a pair of distressed skinny jeans that hug my curves to perfection and a pair of heeled booties that will give me enough height to feel like I’m on level ground with him—not really, but the added height gives me an illusion of power, which I need in his presence. My top is an off-the-shoulder blouse with buttons down the middle. All together, it’s a casual ensemble that doesn’t look like I even spent a fraction of the time I did trying to figure out what to wear.
By the time I’m finished getting ready, with my hair braided messily over my shoulder after my shower, I keep going for that “not trying” look. With minimal makeup and tousled pieces of hair framing my face from the braid, I think I achieved it. I’m only a little surprised when I open my suite door and find Dan there, waiting patiently. Ever the gentleman, his eyes don’t roam over my body, taking in my attire. Instead, they remain fixed on my face.
“He’s waiting for you downstairs in the lobby, Ms. Williams.”
With an unsteady nod, I place my hand over my belly, which is roaring with butterflies, and follow him toward the bank of elevators. The entire ride down is a repeat of last time. I can already tell Dan is going to be a tough cookie to crack. His loyalty is an issue.
“Have a good night.” Those are his parting words as the doors slide open, revealing the pristine lobby. My booted heels thud against the marble floors, and my brows dip as I glance around in search of Baz, but I don’t see him anywhere.
Why didn’t Dan tell me where the hell Baz was going to be?
My grip tightens around my clutch as my gaze flits around, and I stand like a confused idiot. I suddenly stop breathing, my heart making a ruckus in my chest. My steps still while I take him in. I’m exponentially grateful that he hasn’t noticed me yet. It gives me enough time to ogle him in peace as I catch my breath, all while he’s none the wiser. With his body turned at an angle, I can clearly see him leaning against the column, just near the entrance. I don’t know how I missed him before. And looking at him now? It makes my mouth go dry, and my breathing becomes fast and labored.
Fucking hell.
With a casual, bored pose, Baz is leaning back, ankles crossed, hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s wearing black slacks and a thin gray sweater with the arms slightly pushed up, giving me, and everyone else, a view of the watch on his wrist and the protruding veins in his hands and forearms.
Naturally, he looks incredible; whereas, I look like my form of “casual” doesn’t come easy.
His face is just as it always is. That same sharp jawline, same deep cerulean blue eyes with green specks, same rough stubble, and a tight, no-nonsense glint in his eyes all complete the look. The view accentuates the strength of his jaw and the sharp angles of his face. He’s handsome as all hell, and it’s starting to drive me crazy.
As if sensing someone’s overheated gaze on him, Baz glances in my direction. No emotion registers on his face—no surprise—or even an inkling of enjoyment at the fact that I’m here. He just watches me, his intense orbs trailing up and down my body, lingering on my jeans.
I swallow the golf ball sized lump in my throat, forcing my brain and muscle receptors to react. Move, one foot in front of the other. Perfect. There you go. With each step closer, I feel the air thickening, my heart pounding harder, and my breathing turning more ragged by the second. And by the time I’m standing in front of him, I’m holding my breath and counting to ten in my head, trying to pull myself together.
“You look great.” My voice sounds raspy and strained, probably from the riot of emotions inside me, so I clear my scratchy throat. My sweaty hands tighten around my clutch again, holding on to it like it’s a lifeline.
Baz’s upper lip twitches as if he wants to smile at the praise, but instead, he reaches his hand out to me, palm up. I pause for only half a second before placing my hand in his. An electric shock travels from our point of contact through my arm and seems to burrow into my veins. When I glance up at him, his brows are drawn together as though he felt it, too.
He guides me out of the glass doors, and like clockwork, a black sports car growls to a stop on the curb in front of us. Baz opens my door for me, helping me in, and just before he closes the door, he leans down, his lips hovering dangerously close to my ear.
“You look incredible.”
I suck in a sharp breath at his words, and when my door slams shut, I release a heavy breath.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
When Baz revs the engine and takes off, I try not to fidget too much. It’s just, trapped in such a small space like this, all I can think about doing is jumping his bones. And that should be the last thing on my mind. The first thing should be getting close to him to find out the truth. But his smell, the heat emanating off him, all of it is screwing with my head.
I lick my dry lips, and as discreetly as possible, I watch him. With one hand resting lazily over the wheel, he drives like a man in charge as if operating such a fast, powerful car doesn’t take much for him. I find it incredibly sexy even when I know I shouldn’t. With his sweater sleeves still pushed up, I can see the barest hint of the skeleton key tattoo peeking out from beneath one of them, and it’s a slap in the face, and the reality check I needed.
Because at the end of the day, that is who he is. He’s one of them. He’s partnered with them and said they were his family. I know the saying is innocent until proven guilty, but in this case, they’re all guilty until I prove them innocent.
“So,” I say, my voice splitting through the silence. “What are the plans for tonight?”
My eyes keep flitting from the dark edges of the tattoo to his face while he drives.
“Dinner and some sightseeing. Figured I’d give you a taste of LA while you’re here.” He glances at me, reading the expression on my face. “Unless you have something better in mind.”
“Of course not.” I shouldn’t ask it, but I do anyway. “Did you take all your previous girlfriends on dates like this?”
Baz shifts against the leather seat. He glances at me, his brows tugging low with reproach. He looks thoughtful, as though he’s trying to figure out how to say what he needs to say.
“Since I don’t do girlfriends, no, this isn’t the norm. But I have done this before, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Ego. Completely. Deflated.
All his sweet reassurances yesterday? Yeah, they’re pretty much null and void now. All I can seem to think about are the other women. The ones he had at one time taken out on dates.
How did he feel about them?
Is it the same way he feels about me?
Despite our little hiccup in the car, the rest of the evening goes better than I could’ve imagined. Baz doesn’t disappoint on this date, outing, whatever the hell this is. I can’t contain my smile when we get out at the Griffith Observatory. It’s almost as if he knew seeing the observatory was on my list of must-sees here in LA. His resort has an incredible view of most of LA, but the view of the Observatory from there made me long to see it up close and personal. This, this whole entire date has been exactly what I needed. .