Barclay

After Tessa finally gets into the car, I round the trunk and lean against the door I should be opening, but I can’t just yet. I take a few deep breaths, because I need time to process one monumental fact: she’s a virgin. The word burns into my brain. My mind spins a million different scenarios knowing she wants me naked and has never slept with anyone.

And how’s my traitorous body reacting to both realties? I’m as hard as the granite stone driveway under my feet.

If I use the head on top of my shoulders, which is usually the case when it comes to women, I’ll ask Lawrence to drive her back to the city, alone, without me. Then I’ll order an Uber or walk to the train station a couple miles away to let off some steam.

I pace beside the car, rubbing the back of my neck. I need to stay away from her at all costs. The idea of us together isn’t just about age anymore. Hell, I’ve never been with a virgin, even back in my school days. She needs someone who can commit to her beyond one night or a few days while she’s here in the city.

She’s the kind of girl a guy brings home to meet his mother, and mine would love her too. There’s no way I can fuck a virgin—and that’s all it would be.

Even after admitting I’m definitely not that man for her, I find myself grabbing the door handle and getting in the damn car. I’m thinking with the wrong part of my body. In one quick move I’m sitting next to her in the backseat, my eyes trained ahead of me, but I see her in my periphery. Golden hair and creamy long legs pop against the black leather interior. A man would have to be blind to miss her.

“Lawrence, we’re ready to head back to the office.” I fix my seatbelt and straighten my jacket. They’re simple memory movements that should settle my rapid pulse and distract me from Tessa—and her virginity and desire to see me naked—but my heart keeps pounding away.

“Yes, Mr. Hammond.” My driver starts the car and eases it down the long driveway. I want to yell at him to press the gas pedal and get this vehicle moving. Instead, I tap a finger rhythmically against my thigh.

All my senses are on high alert in the tight confines of the car. I lean back against the leather headrest, making a futile attempt to handle the proximity of the blonde bombshell next to me.

I’m trapped as her fragrant perfume floats around me like a siren’s song. I fight the crazy urge to pull her closer and inhale her scent. I crave the feel of her soft and delicate thighs. I’m drowning in her presence, yet I don’t take off my jacket to cover her legs. I want to feast on them one last time, even if it’s pure torture.

I try to convince myself I’m protecting her, but is that true? Or could I be guarding myself from her? It would take nothing for me to get lost in the curves of her body and never come up for air.

I close my eyes and imagine her legs wrapped around me. Our lips pressed together. Tongues. Hell, I better stop this train of thought, because I have no will power concerning her. All she has to do is ask, and I’d be hers.

“Barclay,” she whispers, breaking our game of silence. I jerk when she touches my fisted hand resting on the leather seat between us. “It’s really okay if I call you that now?”

“Sure, Tessa. You’re not my employee.”

When I turn toward her and our eyes lock, she steals my breath away. Her big baby blues beg for me to let her in, like she’s searching for the smallest fissure in my heart. But I can only stay on the surface with her. Anything else will remove the last bit of control I possess.

“Then we can start over and be friends?” she asks. Her voice is tender and seeking. “Pretend you didn’t hear everything. I’m humiliated beyond belief.”

She doesn’t deny what she said, but Don warned me it was impossible for me to be her friend. I’ll prove him wrong. I can handle a friendly conversation for an hour-long drive back to the office. It’s a piece of cake, though bringing her Saturday night to the dinner is completely out of the question.

Her alluring mix of innocence and beauty requires one thing: I have to go cold turkey. From here on out, this will have to be our last and final contact. Otherwise, she might not stay a virgin very long.

“What conversation?” I wink at her, and she turns a pretty shade of pink.

I unfurl my fingers, and she removes her light touch. “Tell me about yourself.”

When she beams up at me all dewy-eyed and eager, a part of me already misses seeing her smile. I scan her face, capturing the moment and labeling her as the one who got away or I let go before it started. It’s for the best, though. I feel like a panting wolf wanting to devour a trusting lamb.

“Okay.” She perks up in her seat. Her bright eyes are aglow with my fixed attention. “I grew up in Monroeville, Alabama. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”

“I’d have to trade in my publishing credentials if I didn’t know the hometown of Truman Capote and Harper Lee. Besides, my mother was raised in Birmingham.”

“It practically makes us family friends,” she laughs, and it sounds so youthful and sweet, reminding me again of our age difference. Then her laughter fades, along with her smile. “I’m curious. Why did you lie to Don about us?”

“I have no clue.” I run a hand over my face, trying to make the awkward moment disappear. I opt for changing the subject. “By the way, everything’s okay with him now. I want to thank you for your help.”

“That’s great. The tart worked then?”

“I’d say it was more you giving it to him. He was quite impressed with your review of his book. So was I. You know you never really told me what you’re doing in New York City.”

“I just graduated college and …” She hesitates before continuing, twisting a lock of hair. She bites down on her bottom lip, like she’s trying not to say something. “And … well, I’m here for a few days looking for a job.”

“Bright lights, big city,” I answer, and she nods.

My first thought is: do we have a job for her at Hammond Press? Then I realize how impossible it would be having her working there. She’d be too close and tempting.

“Exactly. I’ve always wanted to live here, so does my best friend. If I find a position, she’s moving here too.” Her brow wrinkles slightly, her eyes expressing concern. “Well, I can’t let her down.”

“Good luck. I’m sure you’ll find something,” I say.

My words contain very little enthusiasm, and I feel like a complete asshole. All I’d have to do is call my HR head, and she’d wave a magic wand for Tessa, finding her a suitable job at the company. She does seem to love books. And we all need to start somewhere. My fingers itch to grab my phone, but I keep them resting at my side.

“I have six more days to figure it out. That’s plenty of time, right?” She worries her lip, and I feel even shittier for doing nothing to help this sweet young woman. Dammit. I have to do something.

“Give me your phone.” I hold out my open palm. She places her cell phone in my hand without a single question. Her trust should make me feel better, but it has the opposite effect, since I don’t deserve it.

I click her phone to light up the screen, and it displays a tall handsome man with his arm around her. “Boyfriend?”

“It’s my older brother. There’s no boyfriend,” she utters, and I try to contain a smile while entering my phone number into her cell and texting myself.

The guys in Alabama are complete idiots. Then again, if she had a boyfriend, my worries would be over, because I’d have the best reason to stay away from her. She could never be mine. What’s troubling, though, is I’m way too happy to find out she’s single. 

I hand the phone back to her and pick up mine. “Text me your email. I’ll forward the names of a couple people looking for interns at their companies. You can drop my name, tell them I gave you their information, if you’d like.”

I don’t know enough about her to really be a good reference, but I’ll take a gamble and consider it payback for helping me out with Don today.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” she gushes, moving closer to me, then gently squeezes my hand. “Thanks so much.”

She needs to quit touching me. I’m reaching the threshold of my control here.

“You’re welcome, though I can’t guarantee anything.” I remove my hand before I wrap it around her small one.

Needing a distraction from everything Tessa, I check my phone to see who needs something from me, because there’s always someone wanting my assistance or an answer. I can’t remember the last time I fell off the office grid like this during a workday.

I scroll through several emails that can wait for my response until later, then I see a text from Mrs. Mackenzie wanting to know where to send Tessa’s dry-cleaned clothes. She’s asking for her address.

Finding out where Tessa’s staying in the city isn’t smart, especially since I’m resolved to go cold turkey once she’s out of this car. But she does need her clothes back.

I turn toward Tessa in search of the answers Mrs. Mackenzie needs, and get sidetracked by her shapely legs. I caress them with a slow gaze, then follow a curvy trail up to her eyes, imagining her without a stitch on. This time, I’m the one with the dirty thoughts.