Chapter Three
Sawyer took off out of Daniel’s office, his long legs outpacing Justine. He deserved a promotion, a raise, and a vacation for having to babysit his boss’s daughter to prove a point. She’d figure out fast he wasn’t playing around.
“Excuse me,” she called out from behind him. He ignored her, heading for the elevator. “Stop!”
He drew up short and turned to face her.
“I’ve got heels on here.” She caught up and stopped beside him. The secretaries sitting in a semicircle around them looked anywhere else. When Sawyer stared at her, waiting, she said, “Okay. We can go now.”
“You sure? You’re ready now?”
She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. Unless there’s a fire, and believe me, I can see I’d be on my own in that case, could we adapt a more casual pace?”
Slower than necessary, he led her to the elevator, down to his floor, and past glass-walled offices. The tingling on the back of his neck told him she glared at him all the way to his door. That’s okay. She wouldn’t be happy once they got in there, either.
Inside, he left her to stare at a random painting his assistant had picked out while he flipped through messages on his desk. “Okay, I’ve got somewhere to be. For now, you’re on coffee.”
Justine slipped into a chair on the other side of his desk, crossed her legs, and looked up at him with an obstinate, but polite, smile. “Um, no, I’m not.”
“Then I guess you’re stuck following me around all day.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I’m assuming this is your office.”
“It’s our office, actually.” He pointed behind her. She twisted in her seat to find the small desk tucked in the corner.
“God, this is like in-school suspension. My father knew I’d come, so naturally he had a workplace prepared.” She turned to him. “So, why the little scarred desk in your office?”
“Because I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”
“Oh, good grief. He doesn’t even trust me enough to be alone in the building?”
“It’s easier for me. You didn’t plan to decorate with flowers and pink curtains or anything, did you?” Without waiting for a reply, he said, “Get your stuff.”
Justine grabbed the bag she’d laid at her feet. “Where are we going?”
Today, he had a meeting with the guy he liked for the show, and now he had to take her for the negotiations. He ignored her question and held the open button on the elevator to give her time to catch up. She’d screw it up, but he was sure the guy wouldn’t sign on the dotted line anyway. This way, he could spend the rest of the day reminding her how she’d blown it and still be at Joe’s for happy hour.
His plan was simple; if he showed her how much real work the job entailed, she’d beg off by the end of the week, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with her. He’d have his promotion in the bag and still get the talk show on the air.
His lip quirked as he bit off a small smile. He had everything under control.
She followed him to his car, and he gave her some credit for not complaining this time. Who wore shoes like that? They worked in an office, not on a damned runway.
Once they’d both buckled up, Justine cleared her throat and looked at him. “Do you have a first name?”
“Yes.”
After a moment, Justine pretended to count on her fingers and then said, “Do you realize you’ve only said about fifteen words to me?”
“It’s just Sawyer.”
“Just Sawyer, like just Madonna?”
She smelled fruity, like strawberries or…why the hell was he even thinking about this? He scowled at her. “Just Sawyer, like that’s as personal as we need to get.”
“Ookay.” She looked out the window. “So, are you going to call me Justine or is that too personal?”
“Hey, whatever you want.”
“Right. Are you always this friendly, or do you just like me?”
“Do you always ask this many questions?” Sawyer gritted his teeth and tried again. “Fine, we’ll talk. You’re not what I expected from Daniel Montgomery’s daughter.”
“Because you’ve heard so many good things about me?”
He awarded her a couple of respect points. She understood how she looked in the public eye. Why pretend any different?
“And now you’re not saying anything. How do I not meet your expectations?”
“You know, pampered princess. Why do you even want to work? Me, if I had that kind of money at my disposal, I’d be sitting on some beach watching the sunset.”
“Oh, that. See, I’m not rich, my father is.”
“Daddy doesn’t share?”
“It’s a long story. Movie of the week sort of thing. Maybe a miniseries. You’d be bored.” She turned to catch the view from her window. The buildings got older and dirtier by the mile. “Anyway, I don’t have that kind of money, and I need the work.”
Outside of a bar on the edge of town, the cinder block walls dark with grime, he parked the car in a gravel parking lot.
“This is where you have to be?” she asked, brows drawing together as she eyed the building.
He turned on her, that stop-and-look-at-me red dress playing siren to his sailor. “Damn it, look at you.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“You look too…dressed up. You can’t go in there like that.”
Pointing at the bar, she said, “They have a dress code? Really?”
“Lose the jacket.”
She unbuttoned the jacket with a belabored sigh and slipped it off her shoulders. “Better?”
He squinted at her. Definitely not better. The jacket had camouflaged her curves. Now every part of her was out there. “It’ll do.” The door opened with a creak, and he headed for the bar.
As they walked, her somewhere behind him, he said, “You need to buy some normal clothes. We won’t ever visit any designer runways.”
Inside, she managed to climb up on a cracked leather bar stool beside him, flashing a lot of leg in the process since her dress was tight and her heels high. Sawyer glanced around the bar, annoyed. Why didn’t she take out a neon sign to let people know she’d arrived?
“Listen, don’t you dare lecture me on the labels in my dresses when you’re presumptuous enough to have adopted one name.” She rolled her eyes and ordered a mimosa without glancing at the bartender. “Ooh, I’m ‘just Sawyer.’ Note the mystery and machismo exuding from my pores as we speak.”
High spots of color rose to her cheeks, and he struggled not to laugh. “I’ve spent maybe two hours with you, and you’re already the strangest person I’ve ever met.”
“I get that a lot. You’d be surprised.” The bartender placed a beer in front of her and walked away. “What the hell?”
“Does this look like the kind of place that serves mimosas?” Obviously, he was being punished. He’d done bad things, God knew, and he deserved this. Why did she have to be the last hurdle to the opportunity of a lifetime?
She shifted on the hard stool and pushed the beer away. “Why are we here?”
“You’ve driven me to drink.”
“I get that a lot, too. Seriously, why are we here?”
“Because I’m trying to steal an actor before he signs a new contract.”
“Well, sure, that makes perfect sense. I should’ve guessed. Why here?”
Done listening to her complaints, he jerked to face her. “Because, it’s inconspicuous, or it would be if you weren’t wearing a flaming red, second-skin of a dress.”
“Well.” She cast furtive glances around the bar. “Next time, remind me to pack my super-secret trench coat and sunglasses.”
In a booth in the back, he spotted his actor. “Come on.” Surprising him, she followed without commentary. Her heels clicked on the scarred hardwood floor. If she could keep the silence up, maybe he wouldn’t have to kill her.
Sawyer stopped at the booth and flapped his hand at her to scoot in. She did, taking her time, and flashing a smile at Leo King. Leo was a soap vet, brushing thirty, with boy-next-door looks and a bigger daytime fan base than the beach had sand. From what Sawyer could tell, he also had real life charisma that would transfer perfectly on his show.
Predatory smile in place, Leo leaned back in the booth and studied her. “Did you bring me a present? You must want me to sign with you, Sawyer.”
“That’s Daniel Montgomery’s daughter you’re eyeballing. Knock it off.”
He shook a finger at her. “I knew I recognized you.”
“And I recognize you. You’re in a coma.”
“Contract talks are taking too long. If Sawyer convinces me to jump ship, Dr. Kinder won’t survive, they tell me.”
“And why hasn’t he convinced you?”
“Well, the soap is offering me three years. Sawyer will only cough up one season, for certain, and he’s not even making that worth my while.”
“Oh, that’s easy.” She turned to Sawyer. “Offer him three years.”
What was she doing? She was supposed to observe. Or at least be very bad at this. Leo was eating her up with a spoon.
“Listen,” he turned to Leo, “I can’t guarantee the show will be a success. But if it is, you’ll be made. I know you know that.”
A twinge of guilt bit at his stomach, but he pushed it down. There was no way Leo would ever take this deal, so it wasn’t like he was selling a potentially doomed show. Okay, it was, but he was selling it to someone who wasn’t buying.
“But if it flops, I’m out of luck.”
Sawyer opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off. “No, you’re not,” said Justine. “My father will give you a role in a new prime-time series. Not starring, per se, but at least a supporting role. Now, come on, you’d give up your soap for that, and you know it.”
“Now that might be worth the pittance they want to pay me.” He snatched his sunglasses off the table and stood up. “Send the contract over to my agent.”
Sawyer stared at her, shocked.
She smiled, her teeth brilliant in contrast to her crimson lips. “There. What’s next?”
“Okay, first of all, I could’ve done that. Second of all, your father didn’t approve that deal.”
“Let me tell you something. I don’t play by my dad’s rules, I never have. He knows that, and in all fairness should’ve warned you, but he’ll honor the deal. If he doesn’t like it, he can tell me to leave.”
“Come on,” he growled at her.
Sawyer stalked back toward the car, barely noticing the crunch of gravel behind him as she picked her way across the lot; probably trying to salvage the shoes.
How had she nailed that negotiation when Leo King had blown off every offer he’d made? Sure, she looked better than him doing it, but that wasn’t enough to convince King to make this kind of a jump. Somehow, she’d told him what he wanted to hear.
In the car, Sawyer jammed his keys into the ignition and then paused. Damn it. He turned on her, his hand on the back of her seat, the leather soft against his palm. Justine looked at him calmly, ignoring or not noticing the intimacy in the car.
“I underestimated you.”
“I know you did.” She cast her eyes downward.
Was she uncomfortable? Intimidated? Is that what that face meant? He couldn’t read this woman he’d been stuck with and he still had no idea what to do with her. He cranked the engine and jammed the car into reverse. “It won’t happen again.”
“We’ll see,” she murmured as gravel kicked up to ping at his paint job.
****
Justine’s desk was tiny. The size of the world’s-smallest-postage-stamp-ever, tiny. And someone had actually carved their initials into the top.
TL delivers
That’s what it said. She wasn’t sure what TL delivered, the mail or lunch or maybe drugs. Maybe it was a code.
Didn’t matter, anyway, because TL was probably somewhere better or at least somewhere with a bigger desk. Either Sawyer or her father had chosen this desk to annoy her.
But Sawyer didn’t need a desk to annoy her; the fact that he existed was annoyance enough. Plus, he’d ignored her, except to shove folders at her and tell her to “go through them carefully,” for the last three days. She pulled out the pink mug she’d brought, dropped in her pink pens and highlighters. She’d even brought pink paper clips and a crystal vase from her mother’s that she’d filled with fresh pink roses that morning. And still, he ignored her.
Justine frowned and traced TL. That shouldn’t matter; she didn’t need him to notice her. She refused to care that he hadn’t recognized her as anything other than annoying.
Except she’d nailed the negotiation, and no one else had even mentioned it other than when he told her he wouldn’t underestimate her again. Hello? He was underestimating her all over the place, these days.
She crossed her arms, sighed as loud as possible, and leaned back in her creaking chair.
She stared at him, and he ignored her. They had a theme. How adorable. “Sawyer.”
“Yeah,” he answered, without looking up. His voice dripped with antagonism.
“I’m bored.”
“Then go through those files I gave you.”
“I already did. They’re old and meaningless. I need some help.”
“I’m not here to hold your hand. We’re working. Scratch that, I’m working, and you’re making it harder.”
“How am I making it harder? I’m not doing anything!”
“Exactly.” He stood up at his desk, slammed down folders and his pen, and then picked it back up again to point it at her. “Except, you’re wearing those damned clothes I told you about, and the shoes, and the walk.”
“The what?”
“Never mind. And you’re asking stupid questions that you’d have the answer to, if you were in any way qualified to be here.”
Her cheeks blazed because he was right, she didn’t belong here. If she’d finished college, gotten a job, and worked her way up here as he’d done, then she’d be fine. “Look, I know. I shouldn’t be here, and it’s not fair to you. I get that.” She stood up, grabbed the stack of folders he’d given her this morning, and dumped them on his desk. “But I’m not stupid. I could use some…mentoring. Teach me, mold me.”
He stared at her, blinking. “Mold you.”
“Mold me.” She nodded solemnly.
“I don’t want to mold you. Maybe you could do this the old-fashioned way. How about you shut up, pay attention to what I do, and learn like everybody else does?”
“But you aren’t letting me do anything with you. You’re just dumping folders on me.”
“Because I don’t want you around!”
She didn’t get an opportunity to respond to Sawyer when an abrupt voice came from behind her. “I thought you hated pink.”
Justine rolled her eyes. Perfect. Travis. “I do. But Sawyer hates it more. I’ll deal.”
She turned to face him, and he took a step inside. His dark eyes crinkled when he smiled. Travis had turned forty this year. Gray streaked through his precisely styled brown hair. Ten years ago, he’d been attractive in a country-club smooth sort of way. She couldn’t decide if aging had intensified his polished vibe, but it didn’t do it for her.
“Excuse me. Um…we need to speak in private.” She hadn’t seen Travis in years. But after the way her father had practically tied some sort of dowry around her neck, she needed to get an idea of how working with him was going to play out.
“Whatever.” Sawyer went back to his work, and for once she was glad to be ignored.
She smiled up at Travis, giving him a tiny nod. Please follow me, please just follow me.
Justine pulled up short at the elevator. “I don’t know where anything is, is there a room? Private room, break room, copy room, anything?”
Travis opened a door across the hall, and she followed him inside. Office supplies lined shelves on every wall. A single fluorescent bulb cast light straight downward.
“Cozy.” She hated this room already. It couldn’t be more than sixteen feet square.
“What was that?”
“I don’t want things to be weird here, if we run into each other. Or you come find me. And since I’m not doing any real work, I can’t imagine why you’d need to do that.”
“I wanted to see you. Well, I see you all the time in the magazines, with some man who has his hands all over you. Anyway, I wanted to say hello.”
“Travis, I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself, choosing to ignore his comment about hands. “Things ended in a bad way with us, but I don’t want to fight, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
He looked away at the paper stacked to his right. “That’s perfect. I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not that.”
“I don’t like you working with him.”
“What?” She glanced over her shoulder, and then she realized who he meant. “Why?”
“I’ve noticed the two of you, walking around the building and on the elevator Monday afternoon.”
“And?”
“And he looks at you like he wants to get in your panties.”
Justine took a step back without thinking. Typical Travis, catching her so off guard. And it shouldn’t have, not even after all these years. Because he could go from unassuming and awkwardly charming to so, so wrong. Worse, he projected this sense that other people somehow forced him to behave that way.
His dark eyes turned hard. “It’s like he’s trying to decide if he’d have more fun in the elevator or on the copier.”
“No. No, he doesn’t. And that is so inappropriate. You have no right to an opinion on that, or to say anything if he did. Which, he doesn’t.”
She’d backed herself up to the door, so when he took a step closer, she had to tilt her head to see his face. He’d nicked himself shaving this morning. His presence, so close in her space, made her skin crawl.
“Try to remember what happened last time you tried slumming it.”
The breath rushed out of her at that, and she struggled to get it back. “I’m not having this conversation with you. It’s none of your business.”
Light from the hallway flooded the closet as the door swung open behind her. If it opened in, instead of out, it would’ve whacked her in the behind. Instead, she fell into a warm, hard chest. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes.” Travis glared at Sawyer. He had been about to push his advantage in this small, enclosed space and kiss her. She would never make this mistake again. Let him make a fool of himself. Or her. He wasn’t going to touch her.
“No.” She looked at Sawyer and turned away from Travis. “It’s nothing.”
She practically sprinted back to Sawyer’s office and dropped down into her seat. Travis was like a Venus flytrap. Perfectly normal, pretty flower, and then he was trying to eat you for breakfast.
“What the hell?” Sawyer towered over her desk, scowling down at her.
She looked up at him, eyebrows raised in innocence.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing.”
Sawyer didn’t look at her in the way Travis said. Her ex was jealous, which was pathetic. After a few minutes, she got sick of the silence. “So…what do we do next?”
“Work. That’s what we do here, all day long.”
She quirked her mouth and pretended to consider that. “So that’s why they call it a job.”
“You’re not nearly as cute as you think you are.”
“Got it.” She twitched her lips back and forth, trying to decide if she should push the issue of her cuteness, or push a pencil. And she couldn’t stop herself. “You don’t want me here.”
“What gave me away?” And damn her to hell if he didn’t have the hottest smart-ass grin. His dimples flashed, his eyes twinkled, and the entire time he was practically laughing at her.
“At least you’re honest. Travis says you look at me.”
He shook his head, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you want me here?”
“Because I don’t like looking at you.”
“Wow, okay.” Justine laid her hands flat on the desk because her ego had been pretty worked over today.
“Listen, your father says his little princess works here, you do. Whatever.” He yanked his jacket off the chair, causing it to spin out of control.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.” He shot his wrists through his jacket sleeves, scowling.
“But we have work to do. All day, remember?”
He jerked open a cabinet, pulled out a stack of files, and dumped them on her desk. “No, you have work to do. I need a drink.” He stormed out leaving her and the files.
She frowned at the stack in front of her, pulling her hair through her fists. She was tired of working for the sole purpose of keeping her occupied, and she had no idea what she was supposed to find. When she looked up, Sawyer’s assistant leaned against the door, arms crossed, head tilted, giving her a disinterested look.
Blonde, petite, pert, and damned adorable; she was everything that had annoyed Justine growing up. People like that made her feel eight feet tall. And overly serious. Cynical.
“Since we seem to be taking a vote, what’s your take on my being here? Yes? No?”
“Is indifferent an option?” Her voice was unexpectedly smoky. Still adorable.
Justine considered. “I believe that’s worse than no. Thanks.”
She stopped in front of Justine, ran her fingers over the files to glance at the names. “This show was canceled two years ago. Why does he have you looking at this?”
“Um, I think it’s so I’ll become so bored I kill myself.”
“Definite possibility. A little passive for his tastes, though.” She extended a hand. “Veronica. We’ve passed in the hall. I work with Sawyer.”
“Justine. And if by work you mean he dumps worthless folders in my lap and walks away grumbling, then I work with him as well.”
Veronica surprised Justine when she grabbed a folder, crossed to the middle of the office, and sat down cross-legged in the floor. She flipped through the papers, leaving Justine unsure about what had transpired. Was she bored? Lonely? Helpful?
“Look at this, this show never made it out of planning. Fifteen years ago.”
Justine stood up, smoothed her skirt, and took a step closer. “See? Why am I looking at this? I don’t know what I’m doing. I hate feeling stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Well, yeah, because I don’t know you. Maybe you are stupid, but it’s rude to agree, and you’re my boss’s daughter.”
Justine burst out laughing at the unexpected honesty. She picked up a second file and started rifling through it. A picture fluttered to her desk.
“Oh my God, look at this.” Justine held up a head shot of Liann Linell. She’d been hauntingly gorgeous, with blonde hair that always looked perfect and bone structure that made her face look like God himself had sculpted it into perfection. “Remember her?”
“Not really…”
“Because you’re twelve. She was this big star, before you were born. My dad gave her her big break.”
“So, where is she now?”
“I don’t know. She disappeared a few years ago. Just dropped off the radar. I’d forgotten all about her. My mom threw parties all the time before the divorce, so she was at my house tons of times. I’d stare at her like she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Actually, everyone at those parties was gorgeous.”
Veronica snapped a red folder shut. “What do you know about daytime TV?”
“Less than anyone working here, but more than the average person.”
“You realize you’re making a show for daytime, right?”
“Ah, yes, I do. It’s another one of life’s little ironies that enjoy smacking me in the back of the head.”
Veronica sighed. “Do you want me to help you go through these?”
“Is that why you came in?”
“Not really. I wanted to decide if you were remotely likable first.”
Justine picked up the stack, dumped them on the plush rug in front of Veronica, and then sat down on the opposite side. “Does that mean you’re changing your vote to a yes?”
“It means I’m not ready to commit to a yes at this time, but I am reserving my right to do so later.”
Justine picked up a folder at random and started reading. “Good enough.”
****
Sawyer stormed into the elevator and jabbed at the lobby button. That woman drove him crazy. He couldn’t take another minute with her. She had the wiggly walk, the smile, and the hair. The talking, the questions, and the “mold me.” Was it too much to ask for her to go away?
In his car, he gunned the engine, pulling out of the parking garage with a squeal of tires and a nod to the attendant. He needed to figure out what was going on. How could she sit at the ridiculous desk, her hair falling everywhere, and hit him with equal parts annoyance and lust? Even worse, what in the hell was up with sneaking into a supply closet with Travis Chase? He was off in the head. He seemed like the kind of guy who probably bet on bum fights.
Sawyer had often overheard Travis making lewd comments about their co-workers to the ad guys he courted. One even asked Travis to set him up with another producer, and Travis promised not only a date, but also implied the producer would be prepared to “put out.” It was disgusting.
Was that her type? Yeah, she had a sex tape, but wasn’t she raised to have higher standards than that?
He jammed the engine into fifth gear and decided he’d spent too much time thinking about his boss’s daughter already. He needed to forget about her and work, and relax.
Not long after, he walked into Crazy Joe’s. Shadows chased away the few lights, and loud music pulsed from speakers around the bar.
He settled into a seat at the bar and ordered a Jack and Coke. When the bartender slapped it down in front of him, he lifted it and jerked his head toward a booth in the corner. “Send Steph over when she gets a minute, Joe.” Instead of fighting the noise, the bartender nodded at him.
He sipped his drink, taking his time, watching people come and go. His private life and his personal life, there were always clear lines. And now she made them blurry, because when she sat at the tiny desk and chewed on her bottom lip, he couldn’t think about projections and marketing.
It was Larry’s fault, really. All that talk about how hot she was, goading him into looking up her video. That’s the reason he kept seeing her as something other than his boss’s daughter. And she was proving to be smart. He’d never realized he had a weakness for feisty, smart-ass, brainy chicks before because he didn’t normally go for women like that.
Stephanie approached him, an empty tray perched on her hip. She wore her hair in a ponytail that bounced down her back and less makeup than most women. She brushed her bangs from her face and smiled. “Hey. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I was here a few days ago.”
“But you were working. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“This a late night for you?”
“Couple more hours. I don’t have to close tonight, thank God.”
“I might wait.”
“I might not sneak out the back.” She winked at him and whirled away to fill her tray up again at the bar. Stephanie was a sweet girl, uncomplicated. She was sexy and undemanding; the perfect woman, perhaps.
Sawyer stared into his drink and thought of reasons why he wasn’t going to think about that damn woman taking over his office, his life, anymore.
A couple of drinks and a couple of hours later, he and Stephanie sat in his car, windows cracked allowing a breeze to drift across them, carrying with it the scent of stale beer and faint smoke. In the distance, past the chain-link fence, cars whizzed by honking at each other.
She knelt on the car seat next to him, licking and nuzzling his neck. His hand traced a circle on her shoulder until she pulled away to scrutinize him.
“What?”
Leaned back on her haunches, her eyes searched his face. “You’re distracted.”
“No. I might be buzzed, though.”
She bit her lip and turned to gaze out the windshield. “Sawyer, I can tell when you’re into it and when your head is someplace else.”
“Work, maybe, I don’t know. Come here.” As distractions went, this conversation sucked. He slipped his hands down to her waist and tugged her closer.
Stephanie pushed his hands away. “Who is she?”
“Who?”
“Whoever you’re thinking about while you’re kissing me.”
“Look, it’s nothing.” Sawyer tried to assure her, lying to himself, as well. “Come spend the night with me, I’ll get us a room. We’ll eat in bed and then stay up all night fooling around.”
“And then you’ll drive home to sleep and leave me there by myself.” Her head fell back and she shifted further away. “Do you know I have a son?”
“I didn’t know.” There was something more he was supposed to say. “That’s great.”
“He is great. I’ve been thinking I’ve got to plan for my future. And then you show up tonight, and I’m like, maybe it means something.” She jerked at her shirt, adjusting it to cover her stomach. “And I think it does, but not what I hoped it meant. Somebody else is playing through your mind while we sit in your goddamned car. And, God, I can’t believe I’m sitting in your car, outside my job, making out. What is wrong with me?”
“We can go somewhere else, Steph. It never bothered you before.”
“It should’ve though.” Was she crying? Had every woman gone crazy? “This isn’t a thing for you, is it? Tell me I’m wrong, and we’ll go get the room. Tell me you can stay the whole night. We’ll order breakfast in bed.”
He looked at her, unsure what to say. He hadn’t realized she’d thought it was leading to more, and he wasn’t interested in anything but this. Stupid, he didn’t even know her. She had a kid he’d never heard of, and he thought they were close enough to believe they were on the same page.
“I think you’re incredible. I enjoy…being with you. But I don’t do more. This is kind of it, for me.”
She chewed on her thumbnail for a minute. “I can’t do ‘this’ anymore. I hope, whoever she is, you don’t give her that same bullshit line.”
“There isn’t a ‘she,’ if you don’t want to do this, it’s fine. I’ll drive you home. But I’m not thinking of anyone else. No one is distracting me.” The top of his head might pop off, overwhelmed by the horror that someone could tell.
She jerked at the handle, and the door swung open. Orange light from the lot spilled into the car. “I don’t need you to take me home. I got here by myself. I can go home the same way.”
She slammed the door behind her and rushed back to the squat concrete building, taking quick, angry swipes at her face. Damn it. He hadn’t wanted things to go this way. And worst of all he was distracted. Justine Montgomery was invading his life, and he was trying hard not to think about her.
How her lips would feel. How she would feel settled on his lap, her arms wrapped around him, those curls brushing his face. Something had to change.