He throws me off my game. My conscience keeps going back and forth on whether it’s completely wrong to be here with him even though it feels a whole lot of right. It’s a business dinner, I remind myself.
We’ve talked shop, we’ve finished eating, and we’ve each ordered another drink—even though I should call it a night. I can’t help but want to sit here with him just a little longer.
We’ve moved on from talk about business to getting to know more about each other. He’s told me about his family—his brother and cousin who live here in San Diego and own The Port, a bar I’ve actually been to several times. I’ve told him about the fact that I’m an only child and my best friend is currently in England. He’s told me about how his parents met and how San Diego has always been a big part of his life, and I told him about what it was like growing up steps from the beach. We leave business completely out of this part of our night.
I hate that he’s so likable and charming, and I really hate that he’s so damn good looking. When he loosened his tie earlier, I was entranced. I couldn’t help but think how I wanted to be the one loosening it. I want to be the one unbuttoning his professional wardrobe after a long day at the office.
I want to feel his throat under my tongue. I want to know what that rough stubble feels like beneath my fingertips.
Those are the thoughts that will get me into trouble.
I can’t think like that because it will lead me down a path that’s irreversible. I won’t cheat on William, physically or emotionally. That’s not me or my character, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be attracted to someone else.
He pays our tab, and there’s not much reason left for why we should still be here.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say.
He nods. “Of course.”
A beat of awkward silence passes between us, and then Carson stands and clears his throat. “You up for one more drink?” he asks.
I shrug. “Sure.”
“Come with me.”
I follow him out the front of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk. This is my home turf, my town, and he’s here leading me through it.
We walk in comfortable quiet, enjoying the June night breeze. We turn down the street to The Port.
“Your brother’s bar?” I ask.
He nods. “Well, my brother and my cousin co-own it.”
“You didn’t get in on that deal?”
“I was in New York. We talked about it, but I had too much going on at the time to get involved.”
He seems wistful.
“Do you wish you would’ve?”
“Invested?”
I nod, and he shrugs.
“You can’t live with regrets, you know? But, yeah, I regret it. We’re fixing that, though.” We stop outside the front doors to the bar, and the bouncer nods at Carson as if he knows him.
“What other regrets do you have?” I’m positive I wouldn’t have asked that question if I hadn’t had the pleasure of margaritas at dinner.
He narrows his eyes and studies me for a beat. “I haven’t had enough beer to share that information with you just yet.”
“Yet?”
He shrugs and raises a brow, and then we walk into the bar despite the fact that there’s a line of people waiting outside. A local band is playing, and the place is both packed and loud.
This part of the night definitely doesn’t feel like a business meeting—not that the rest of the night did, either.
Carson leads me over to the bar. He gets the attention of a sexy bartender sporting a beard, and the bartender’s face breaks out into a grin as he reaches over the bar to shake hands with Carson. Carson leans in and says something to him that I can’t hear over the noise of the band, and then the bartender’s eyes edge over to me. He gives me a huge smile before looking back at Carson.
I can’t help but wonder what that was about.
Thirty seconds later, Carson presses a margarita into my hand and grabs a beer of his own. We wander over toward the back of the crowd watching the band. I want to talk more. I want to hear his voice confess his regrets. He’s given me crumbs tonight, but I want the whole slice of bread. I sneak a peek over at him. He’s watching the band, bobbing his head to the beat. He turns and catches me staring at him.
I feel suddenly sick, as if the margarita is too syrupy. I look away from him as fast as I can.
It’s not the margarita’s fault; it’s the feeling that raced through me when his eye caught mine.
I suddenly feel like if I don’t get some air immediately, I may pass out, or barf…I’m not really sure. I feel dizzy and nauseous, and I feel claustrophobic even though we’re standing at the back of the crowd and we have plenty of space. I make my move for the door we came in through just a few minutes ago.
“You can’t take that drink outside.” It’s the bouncer, but I barely hear him. Someone grabs my arm and pulls the drink from it, but I’m desperate for fresh air.
I make my way out to the sidewalk and then I sit on the curb because I still feel dizzy.
“Are you okay?” Carson appears beside me and wraps his arms around my shoulders. “My God, you’re trembling. Let me get you some water. Kelvin!” He shouts the name. “I need some water.”
I draw in a deep breath through my nose and exhale it through my mouth. I repeat this three times and start to feel the nausea and dizziness subside.
“What’s going on, Sylvie? Talk to me.”
I can’t bear to look over at Carson’s eyes. His voice drips with worry, and I know I’ll see it in his eyes, too, and then these feelings I won’t admit I’m having will start to grow stronger.
I had a plan. I was going to marry William. We were going to be happy. We were going to have children together and continue working together at Baker Media. We were going to raise our children in an atmosphere of love while showing them that hard work pays off. I even thought about bringing them with me to work when they were little. I could dedicate a special section of my office as a play area. I could hire a nanny who could watch them in a special wing on my floor. I had it all worked out.
And then fucking Carson King stepped into my life, and now I don’t even know which way is up anymore.
“Talk to me, cupcake,” he says, and I don’t know if I should laugh or punch him. He’s either going for lighthearted or he’s trying to get a reaction out of me. “Are you okay?”
I blow out a breath. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m okay.” I stare straight ahead.
“Look at me, Sylvie.”
I finally look over in his direction, but I don’t make eye contact. I can’t. This has all become too difficult too quickly. I’m invested, and I shouldn’t be. I can’t be. I have William, even if I’m a little mad at him.
Okay, a little mad is a bit of an understatement. I’m fucking pissed, but that doesn’t give me the right to go on a date with another man, and we both know that’s exactly what this is.
I turn my head back to the street.
“I’m not convinced you’re okay.”
He hands me a bottle of water.
“I’m fine.”
“You won’t even look at me.”
I turn my head toward him again and force my eyes to meet his. Mine immediately fill with tears at the unexpected pain that rips through my chest.
“I need to go home,” I say softly. I swipe at one of the tears that brims over.
“What happened in there?” he asks, his tone matching mine.
“I just realized how much I shouldn’t be here with you.”
“It’s just a business dinner, Sylvie.”
I shake my head. “We both know it’s not. I can’t be here. I can’t do this to William.”
He looks away from me and nods sadly. “Okay. Let’s get you home, then.”
“Just take me to my car at Pink Agave. I’ll drive home from there.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you drive after you nearly just passed out.”
“Fine, then I’ll call a cab or something.”
He sighs. “I can take you home.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“Please. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re home safe.”
I huff out a frustrated breath, but deep down I know it’s mostly for show. He’s not going to allow me an out, which should annoy me more than it does. It shouldn’t comfort me the way it does.
When did everything get so complicated?
Oh, right—the very second I started having feelings for someone who isn’t my boyfriend but is the enemy.