Max
WHAT WAS I doing? Playing a very dangerous game, that’s what. Even though all my instincts told me to walk away as soon as I’d stolen a glimpse of her sitting in the lobby, I doused my inner voice in fuel and set that bastard on fire.
I’d walked toward her as if my legs had a mind of their own, our entire conversation that followed completely unplanned. Words just came out of my mouth, some of them in jest, some not, although I played as if they were. I wanted to believe she was there waiting for me, but I knew better. She was there waiting on Harris. Lucky bastard.
Speaking of . . .
“Did you finally give it up?”
Her head whipped in my direction, the look of shock a delight for me. “Wh . . . what?”
“You heard me. Did you finally put ol’ Chrissy boy out of his misery?”
Thankfully the elevator hadn’t made any stops, its steady ascent allowing me time to rile her before our final destination.
Alina made some sort of half grunt, half moan sound as she spun to face forward.
Speechless, that was what I’d rendered her.
Until she wasn’t.
“You have some balls on you, buddy,” she chastised, the swell of her chest stretching the fabric of her gray dress.
“How did you know?”
“Ugh . . . you’re beyond frustrating, you know that?
“I do.”
Several seconds of silence passed, the only sounds apparent were the swallow breaths of the frustrated woman standing next to me.
Finally deciding she had something else to say, Alina gave me her attention once more, but when she looked up at my hair, she laughed.
Instinctually, my fingers ran over the strands in an attempt to fix whatever it was she found so funny.
“Stop,” she instructed. “You’re only making it worse.” She batted my hand away and with the gentlest touch, played with a lock of my hair. Her fingernails glided over my scalp, and I swore I released a moan, my lids closing briefly to revel in the feeling.
She stepped closer, her chest pressing against mine as she stood on her tip-toes. The concentration on her face was amusing, the tip of her tongue sneaking out to wet her lips, her eyes narrowing briefly as she continued finishing her task.
“I have a bad habit of running my hands through my hair, and sometimes it gets crazy.”
“Maybe you should find a different habit then.”
“I can think of something,” I teased, leaving my cryptic statement out there for her to interpret however she wanted.
“I’m sure you can.” She shook her head. “There, all better.”
“So I look presentable?”
“Very.” She swallowed. “I mean you look good. I mean fine. Ba . . . back to normal.” Flustered was a good look on her. I stayed still when her fingertip feathered over the small scar on my chin. “How did this happen?”
It was my turn to be flustered, her subtle touch causing my heart to kick into overdrive. While I showed no outward signs of nerves, I was bombarded with the need to pull her close and ravage her. Images of undressing her and licking every inch of her rushed forward, but instead of losing myself to my thoughts, I answered her question.
“It’s kind of embarrassing,” I revealed.
“Oh, now you definitely have to tell me.” The expectant look she flashed made me want to reveal all things personal, purge all my secrets if only she’d continue to look at me like that.
“When I was about ten, my brother, Hal, and I were playing G.I. Joe. At some point I thought it would be cool to dive over some bushes in our backyard, not realizing there were rocks on the other side. Anyway, I landed face-first, and one of the more jagged ones cut my chin.”
“Oh no.” She stifled a laugh while her brows furrowed in slight worry for the ten-year-old me. “You’re lucky nothing worse happened.”
“True. But girls dig scars, right?”
“I suppose so,” she appeased, taking a step back when she realized she was still standing so close. “You don’t still play G.I. Joe, do you?”
“I think I’m a little too old, don’t you?”
She cocked her head. “I’m not sure, how old are you?”
“I’m thirty-four. And now that you know how old I am, what about you?”
“What about me?” she deflected, all the while a beautiful smile played on her lips.
“How old are you? And before you ask, no, I won’t guess. I’m not that stupid.”
She laughed. “I’m twenty-nine.”
“Hmm, I would’ve thought you were twenty-five,” I complimented, winking when she pursed her lips.
“Well played,” she amused.
When the elevator finally came to a stop, I guided Alina from the car and down the long hallway, my hand resting on the middle of her back until other people came into view. I dropped my arm to my side, realizing I had to engage some sort of propriety in the office. I itched to touch her again, but I swore if I did I’d invite unnecessary gossip.
Silence engulfed us both with every step we took, our hands bumping a few times as we walked. I wouldn’t lie and say every time was an accident, but she didn’t seem to mind.
I kept my eyes straight ahead as soon as I saw Linda. Guilty conscience about physically being so close to another man’s fiancée and all, the last thing I needed was a judgy look from my secretary. I had no reason to believe Linda would react in such a way, surely having heard about Alina’s recent engagement to another member of the firm, but like I said . . . guilty conscience.
“Hi, Linda,” Alina greeted, stopping momentarily and giving my secretary all her attention. Oddly, I was a little jealous, wanting to hoard as much of Alina’s time as I could before she’d eventually leave to meet Harris. Without missing a stride, I continued to walk ahead, making sure to leave my office door wide open.
Two minutes passed before Alina waltzed into my office, a gentle smile gracing her delectable lips.
“How do you know Linda?”
“Even though the firm is large, I know almost everyone who works here,” she replied, setting her purse on top of my desk.
“You’re that social, huh?” I teased, walking around her to take a seat on the sofa. I watched her intently. Every inhale of air, every blink, every anxious lick of her lips. While she perused the space, I took the time to openly gawk at her.
“I try to be. I have to work with a lot of different people, depending on what case I have, and it’s been my experience that if you get in good with the secretaries, life’s that much easier.” She glanced in my direction and smiled. “I’ve always been envious of this office. Geoffrey never deserved it.” Her smile faded, but when she stepped toward me, the corners of her mouth lifted again.
I was observant, almost to a fault, so I made sure to pry into her short and direct statement. “Why didn’t he deserve this office?”
“What?” Her brows scrunched together.
“You said Geoffrey didn’t deserve this office. What did you mean by that?”
“I didn’t realize I said that out loud.”
With narrowed eyes and piqued interest, I patted the seat next to me. When she didn’t move, I hit the cushion once more. “I don’t bite.” She smirked. “On second thought. I take that back.”
“Do you ever stop?”
“Stop what?”
“Flirting,” she responded, nervously assaulting her bottom lip between her teeth.
Before I could answer, telling her I couldn’t help myself, her phone dinged. Pulling the device from her purse, she checked the screen before typing a reply. The suspense was killing me. Was it Harris texting her? Her father? A client?
“Everything okay?” I prodded, leaning back against the plush of the leather. She still hadn’t answered my question about Geoffrey, her reluctance to answer curious if nothing else.
“Yeah. That was Chris. He can’t make it to lunch. He’s stuck in a meeting, first time with a new client.”
I knew damn well Harris could end that meeting if he wanted to. If I were him, I would never give up the opportunity to spend extra time with Alina. Did he assume now they were engaged, he had all the time in the world with her? If she were mine . . .
Stop thinking like that!
“Tell him you’re in my office,” I offered, although I had no idea why. I knew for a fact Chris would end his meeting and waltz his ass in here in less than five minutes, staking his claim on his fiancée. It was what I would have done if my woman was with another man, albeit innocently. But was our interaction innocent? I certainly didn’t want it to be, and I had a feeling neither did she, although she’d deny it if asked.
“Why?”
“Trust me. If you want to go to lunch with him, text him that you’re in my office.”
She hesitated, her finger hovering over the screen. The corner of her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth again, apparently a nervous habit.
She shot off a text, and I took a deep breath, counting down from five. Alina watched me inquisitively, and when I said, “One,” the vibration of her cell startled her.
“He said he can go after all.” She looked puzzled. “How did you know?”
“I’m a man.”
“Not all men are jealous.” She sent another text then slipped her phone back into her purse, taking a step away when I rose from the couch and quickly approached.
The space between us shrank with every stride until I was so close I could smell her intoxicating perfume. A light floral fragrance mixed with her natural scent, a scent I wanted all over my sheets.
“Yes, we are. Varying degrees of course. If you were mine, I’d come running if I found out you were alone with another man.”
“You’re wrong. Chris isn’t like that. Besides, there’s nothing to be jealous of.” Her words would have been convincing if it wasn’t for the pinkish hue painting her cheeks.
“I’m not wrong. You’ll see.” No sooner did I step back did my office door swing open, Harris appearing in the doorway and looking a little disheveled. He flashed me a warning glare before softening his expression and pinning Alina with his gaze.
“Hey, sweetheart. Turns out I was able to end my meeting on time.”
“Shocker,” I grumbled, not wanting to cause an unnecessary scene. Harris didn’t hear me, but Alina had, the rigidness of her posture becoming more apparent.
“It’s okay. We can go now if you want.”
“Yes.” He gripped her elbow gently yet possessively. “Let’s go.” He smiled, but I saw the muscle in his jaw tic before he ushered her from my office.
I could’ve slapped myself for orchestrating Harris rushing to my office to escort Alina to lunch. I should’ve left well enough alone and never had her text him that she was in my office, but I stupidly wanted to prove I was right about her fiancé. That he was just like any other man, possessive over his woman.