ABBIE
I was trembling and on the verge of a panic attack. I tried to comfort myself, saying there was no way he could know where I worked. Or at least, I hoped there was no way he could know. But then, criminals had plenty more resources than us regular, law-abiding folks, when it came to getting guns, drugs – or information. That was for sure. But I had to admit, King didn't seem like the type who would Google me or search my profile on LinkedIn just to find out where I worked. But who knew with this guy? It wasn't like I really knew much about him.
I figured, though, that he probably had connections everywhere, people he could ask. He could probably find anyone if he set his mind to it. He could probably find me in a heartbeat. Which was slightly unnerving, to say the least.
Sitting at my desk, staring at my latest project without really seeing it or doing any actual work on it, I tried to think of a way out of this mess with King. I couldn't let him show up at my office, not while I was trying my hardest to impress my boss and hopefully move up the corporate ladder. People like King weren't exactly the type of people you wanted potential clients running into as they met with us. Having him show up and make a spectacle not just of him, but of me could really hurt my career.
As I sat there, I couldn't stop my brain from wandering off in a million different directions – my mind was sometimes like a toddler hopped up on Pixie Sticks. And I found myself starting to imagine what King could do with that bar if he had the right people behind it. I began to think that if only I could work my PR magic on his bar, maybe he could retire from the life of crime and become a more settled, stable – and better – human being. If he wanted to, that was. It wasn't like I knew much about what made the man tick, but I had to wonder who would want to live that sort of life? Who would want to always be looking over one shoulder for the cops and over the other for the guy looking to stick a knife in your back so they could take your spot?
Oh yeah, someone like King, that's who.
Thinking about King and his bar, I found my mind wandering back to that night with him. I felt myself flush when I remembered the way he'd kicked everyone out and had taken me right there – that's the type of man King was. Forceful. Commanding. Always got what he wanted. And though I couldn't say I really enjoyed that personality type, I had to admit I didn't entirely dislike it either. To be honest, I wasn't sure how I felt about it all.
All I could keep thinking about was King taking me in his bar, right on the table and how insanely hot the whole experience had been. It was, by far, the sexiest, most erotic experience of my life. And it was one I'd relived in my head almost every single day and night. I couldn't not think about it. And, of course, I couldn't not feel myself growing hot when I did. It was something I knew I'd love to experience again, but there was no way I was going to act on that impulse. Our lives were too different. We were too far apart. We were from completely different worlds.
“Knock, knock.” I nearly jumped out of my skin and as I turned around with my heart thumping hard in my chest, I was half expecting to see King standing there. But instead – and thankfully so – it was Asher standing there with a smile on his face. “Sorry to scare you.”
“No, it's okay. I was just lost in thought,” I said, clearing my throat as I tried to get my blood pressure under control. “What can I help you with, Asher?”
I glanced at the clock and saw it was lunchtime. I knew he went out for lunch on Wednesdays and usually left right about now. I gritted my teeth, half-expecting him to ask me to join him. After all, he'd been hinting that he wanted to ask me out on a date for some time – he just never worked up the nerve enough to get around to actually asking. I smiled back at him, waiting for his response and cringing inside.
“I was just wondering – ”
In my head, I heard a voice narrating the event like some sportscaster. Asher finally steps up to the plate and there he goes! He's going to do it this time. I tried to silence the voice knowing that if he asked, I was going to have to tell him no. I had to. There was no way I could date him. Not because he was a coworker, but because I wasn't into him. He was a sweet guy, but he was way too wishy-washy for my taste. He was too much of a suckup to Jack. But how could I turn him down when he'd finally gotten the balls up to ask? It would crush him. I guess that was a bridge I was going to have to cross whenever he finally managed to actually spit it out.
“Yes?” I hadn't meant to, but maybe I sounded annoyed or a little too sharp because Asher looked like I'd spooked him. But, to be honest, I was a little bit annoyed and didn't have time for this song and dance. I had work to do. And I had to figure out what I was going to do about King. I didn't have time for this silly little shy high school boy with a crush game.
“I – I was just wondering,” Asher sounded defeated and I knew he was starting to backpedal yet again, “if you'd like me to bring something back from the café for you on my way back?”
And there it was. He'd almost had the balls up but had chickened out yet again. I knew his offer to bring me something back was a cop out because the poor guy was red as could be. He looked at me like he wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere, biting his lip and wiping his sweaty palms on his dress slacks.
“No thanks, but I appreciate the offer, Asher,” I said with a friendly smile. “Enjoy your lunch.”
Asher nodded and, without saying another word, he stepped out of my office and hurried away as quickly as he could.
Awkward, I thought to myself. Even more so because the poor kid just didn't have the ability to ask a girl out. It wasn't like I was Angelina Jolie or Scarlett Johannsen. I was just me – a rather normal, average girl in a rather normal, average job with nothing really all that special about her. Poor Asher. If he couldn't work up the balls to ask me out, he was going to remain single forever. If he didn't grow a pair of balls – and grow them soon – the poor kid was going to die alone.
But then I shrugged. Maybe there were other women out there who would appreciate his awkward, shy nature. They say there is somebody out there for everybody. But I sure as hell didn't like it. I liked a man who knew what he wanted and wouldn't hesitate in taking it. I cringed as I realized that the type of man I'd just described was a man like King.
I sighed, remembering the text. I needed to respond to stop this entire mess before it started and managed to get out of hand. Because I figured that with a guy like King in the mix, things would find a way to get out of hand very, very quickly.
Fine, I texted back. Let's meet for lunch in an hour. Do not come to my office. Meet me at Cato's Place. Deal?
As soon as I hit the send button, I mentally kicked myself, knowing I had to clarify what I'd meant. Not just for him, but for myself, too. I quickly keyed in another message to him.
And for the record, this is NOT a date. It's just to clear the air. Got it?
King responded right away. Short and sweet.
See ya then.
Rolling my eyes, I put my phone away. My stomach growled and I knew I needed to stop for lunch, but I was too nervous to actually eat. What did King mean by that? He ignored my second text, the one telling him it wasn't a date. Was I making too much of it or was he intending to try and turn this into something more? Into something it wasn't?
And if he did, would I have the strength to stop it this time? Would I have the strength to say no to the man? Because God knew just thinking about him turned me on so much, and it drove me crazy that it did. I wished I could just file him away under “impulsive mistake” in my mental filing cabinet and be done with him. I wished I could ignore him and never think about him again. And I also wished I had a spare pair of panties at work with me, because mine were soaked.
And there I was, agreeing to go and have lunch with him. What in the bloody hell was I thinking?