Chapter Eight
The mixed signals weren’t directed only at him; Paige could barely sort through the confusing clash of her heart and her head. This whole situation had “run for the hills ” painted all over it in big, bold letters. But for some reason unbeknownst to her, she remained rooted to her chair.
Say the damn words. Tell him to walk away.
But she couldn’t. Her lips and tongue would not comply and instead, her foot bounced to some imaginary beat while they stared each other down. Why was it suddenly hard to stick to her rule of avoiding casual sex?
It wasn’t that she was a prude. But to her, sex was an important bonding experience. She was the master of her own destiny, and that meant she had the right to demand certain things before she let a guy into her bed. One of those things was the promise of a committed relationship. Not to mention, she’d seen too many friends get dumped after giving it up to the wrong guy, having their hearts broken in the process. Or worse. Her brother had killed his career and his dreams by getting himself tied to a woman he didn’t love.
“You’re awfully quiet, good girl.” He was close. Too close.
The scent of gin and lime on his breath mixed with the delicate smoke of the candles burning down to stumps around them. The place was clearing, and soon they’d be kicked out. It was late enough that Paige could easily slip into Sally’s apartment without risking an interruption to her lovefest with Travis.
But she didn’t want the night to be over.
It’s all the cocktails talking. Go home and put an end to this craziness now.
“I don’t have anything to say,” she said, softly.
Noah stood and, for a moment, Paige thought he might be making the decision for her. But then his hand extended out in invitation. Shadows obscured his features, but she caught the wicked glint of a smile.
She slid her hand into his and let him help her to her feet. “Where are we going?”
“Dancing.”
He hauled her inside, where a crowd still occupied the dance floor. The music had moved from an upbeat electro track to a filthy bass-heavy grind. It was the kind of sound that encouraged hip rolling and head rolling and every other kind of rolling. The kinds of movement that simulated the hottest, dirtiest sex.
Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.
She followed Noah into the crush of writhing bodies as if propelled by some invisible force. The crowd swallowed them whole, sucking them into the depths of the dance floor until she was pressed against him, her hands at his chest. Her heart hammered as he looped his arms around her waist.
It was like hugging a brick wall. Everything was as hard as it’d looked on Friday night. God, she wanted to tear at his T-shirt with her teeth so she could get closer. She ran her hand slowly up his chest, her breath catching as she felt the hard ridge of his piercing.
“You like?” he asked. His breath was warm at her ear, his nearness overwhelming her senses.
Her throat worked as she tried to swallow past the tight feeling there. “I shouldn’t.”
“Those are the best kinds of things to like.” This time his lips brushed her ear. His arms tightened, drawing her closer.
Heat radiated between them as they moved, and she was seconds away from dragging his head down to hers so she could re-create their kiss. Re-create the heat and tension and the unique taste of him on her tongue. So she turned, forcing herself to face away from him. But all that did was allow him to slide up against her back, his hands fanning out across her hips. Claiming her.
She sank her teeth down into her bottom lip to stifle a moan as she melted back against him. Yep, mixed signals all right. Her mouth kept saying no, but her body was screaming yes in every language it knew.
“Is this still a boss-employee event?” he growled into her ear.
She was pretty sure that her job description didn’t involve grinding up on her manager in the middle of a sweaty dance floor. Her job. The reality of what she was doing crashed into her—Noah was her boss and she needed this job. Sally was moving out in three weeks and the days were slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. She couldn’t screw this up, or it would mean she really was a failure.
“Yes, it is.” She stepped away from him and glanced over her shoulder to see the smoky look in his eyes, then she turned and pushed through the crowd.
…
Paige woke to the sound of a vibrations cutting through her skull like a knife.
“Who the hell does construction on a Sunday morning?” Groaning, she pushed up on one hand while she pressed the other against her forehead. “And why the hell is it so bright?”
“It’s Monday and it’s not construction,” Sally said cheerfully from the kitchen. “Your phone’s buzzing.”
“Crap.” Paige blinked a few times to focus her eyes and saw that Damon was batting her phone around like it was his own personal squeaky toy. “Hey, cut that out.” She snatched the phone up and hoped she wouldn’t sound as bad as she felt. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Paige Thomas?”
“Yes, it is.” She cringed at the excitement in her voice. Probably wouldn’t do her good to sound too desperate.
“I’m calling regarding your application for the junior accounting position with Stodder & Maclean, and I’m hoping you might be free to come in for an interview this morning. I know it’s short notice, but we’ve had someone drop out of the running and we really need to move quickly on filling this role.”
“Of course.” Paige waved to get Sally’s attention and signaled that she needed a pen and paper. “What time did you have in mind?”
Sally pointed to her desk, and Paige scrambled to get the details written down on a scrap of paper. The interview was at ten thirty, which, if it took an hour as they usually did, would give her a tight window to haul her butt to First in time for her shift. It was only her second week there and she felt guilty at the possibility of being late, but priorities were priorities. Hopefully her skills made up for her tardiness.
“Thank you so much for the opportunity,” Paige said, trying to keep her voice even and professional. “I’ll see you at ten thirty.”
“Is that what I think it is?” Sally clapped her hands together as Paige ended the call.
“Job interview in, like”—she checked her phone—“an hour. Crap! I need to get ready now.”
Her head pounded like a rock concert and her mouth felt as though she’d stuffed it full of cotton balls. Ugh, why had she thought two-for-one cocktails were a good idea? She stumbled around the lounge room trying to get her things together so she could take a shower, and Damon hissed at her when she shooed him from the top of her suitcase.
“That’s for sitting on me while I was sleeping,” she said, poking her tongue out. “Don’t think I’m blind to your feline tricks.”
Two hours later, Paige walked out of the interview for a job that she was way too qualified for and that was paying peanuts. Such a meager wage would mean living farther out of the city than she wanted, thus increasing her commute time. Not to mention the fact that she’d probably have to take orders from someone with less experience than her.
“No wonder their other candidate pulled out at the last second,” she grumbled under her breath as she made her way to the tram stop.
But First wasn’t exactly a long-term option. While they paid fair wages for a barista, she hadn’t spent three years at university—plus all the hours required to fulfill her CPA—to make cappuccinos. It wasn’t part of her perfectly thought-out life plan. On the other hand, staying at First meant spending more time with Noah. She was about to chide herself for thinking stupid things when her phone buzzed. Noah’s name flashed up like something dredged from the darkest, dirtiest depths of her fantasies. They’d exchanged numbers so he could text her if any extra shifts came up at First. But this text was entirely not work-appropriate.
Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our bet. I’ll enjoy watching you eat your words.
A shiver darted down Paige’s spine as she stared at the text. It was the wrong reaction, the wrong feeling. The wrong everything. But Noah elicited a response in her that was totally foreign. It wasn’t the first time someone had hit on her at work. At her last job one of the associates had been insistent about taking her out to dinner. Relentless, even. And what had happened when she’d gone against her instinct and accepted the invitation? All her progress disintegrated.
I didn’t lose my cool last night, and I won’t lose it in the future.
Her finger tapped the send key before her lady parts had time to protest. The tram pulled up in front of her and she climbed up the steps, her eyes glued to her phone’s screen.
There’s a first time for everything. I’m sure you’ll get over it.
Her lips quirked. So he wanted to smack-talk, did he?
Eventually.
Paige’s fingers flew across her phone’s screen.
I’m not sure what kind of women you’re used to dealing with, but we country girls are made of tough stuff. Your hot air has no effect on me.
Lies. Last night he’d set her underwear alight in record time. The rate at which he could turn her from a sensible adult with her head screwed on properly to a quivering mess was terrifying.
And wholly too intriguing.
It’s not my air you should be worried about.
What should I be worried about? Unless you think that answering my questions will help me win…
The bubbles containing their message stared back at her. Three dots blinked at the bottom, taunting her. He was taking his time responding. Paige’s lips curved into a wicked smile. Throwing the ever-cocky Noah off his guard shouldn’t have been so damn fun.
The tram came to a halt and Paige saw First through the window. She was five minutes late for the start of her shift and she had to change out of her interview clothes into something more barista-appropriate. She stepped onto the pavement and jogged as best she could in her stilettos across the road.
First looked busy—people streamed in and out of the door, and she had to squeeze past three men in suits to get inside. The line for the register snaked around the bar, and the waiting area near the espresso machine was three deep.
Shit.
She hated being late. Paige muttered a stream of apologies as she pushed through the crowd to the opening at the end of the bar. Noah’s hard expression caught her off guard as he raked his eyes over her outfit.
“I need you now,” he said, nodding toward the growing stack of white paper coffee cups beside him. “You can change in a minute.”
Guilt knifed through her. Blisters or not, she’d work until the crowd shrank to a manageable amount. For once she was grateful for a punishing pace. Keeping busy meant her mind would be occupied by something other than the gorgeous guy working an arm’s length away…and how much she desperately wanted to kiss him again.