Текст книги "Blind Date "

Автор книги: Emma Hart

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

Chapter Seven

My office door swings open and my mother steps through the empty space, standing formidably tall. A frown mars her usually wrinkleless forehead, and she zeroes in on me instantly. “Bee!”

“What did I do now?”

She reaches behind her and slams my door with such a force that it bounces open before settling against the frame. She gives it one last shove and it clicks shut. “I was just on the phone with Carter Hughes.”

Oh sweet fuck. Here we go.

I may as well say goodbye to my ovaries because I think I’m about to shit them out.

“Everything okay?” I ask nonchalantly.

“Do I sound like everything is okay?” she retorts sharply.

I get the feeling that’s a rhetorical question.

“He informed me you were incredibly rude during your meeting yesterday.” Mom smacks her lips together. “Care to explain yourself?”

“He’s a very frustrating man,” I answer carefully. “And as for rudeness, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“Bee!” Mom snaps. “You can’t be rude to a potential client like him!”

“Then he shouldn’t be rude to me!”

“Bee…”

“No, Mom.” I shut down the website I was on and focus on her fully. “We have a way of business—one that we both decided on. He wanted me to drop off the designs and I refused. I had rescheduled appointments I needed to be at. I told him to come here, and when he did, he was like a petulant child.” And I was like a dog with a bone, but I’m hardly going to mention that.

Mom sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Either way, he’s requested you meet him at six p.m. at his restaurant. I told him you’d be there.”

I wrinkle my nose. “How do you know I don’t have other plans?”

“Do you?”

I’m not sure my mother will count a movie night with Charley as ‘other plans.’ “Yes, actually.”

“A date?”

Again… I’m not sure Charley counts. “Sure. I just had a new vibrator delivered.”

“Bee!” She steps back, a look of revulsion on her face.

Clearly my mother hasn’t experienced the wonders of a battery-operated boyfriend. No wonder she’s so uptight.

Also, a perk of having the kind of name that can’t be shortened? It’s really not threatening when it’s yelled at you like that.

“What? I’m just being honest.”

“Well, don’t. Behave yourself tonight and try not to alienate Carter Hughes. You probably have just enough manners left in your body to convince him why your design is best.”

And failing that, I have a mouth, a hand, and a vagina, but I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate that comment. “Sure. I’ll try my best.”

She pauses, as if she weren’t expecting me to respond so amicably. “All right, then. Try not to alienate any other clients between now and then.” She turns toward the door.

I salute her behind her back and turn back to my screen, her words flowing in one ear and out the other.

I haven’t alienated a client yet.

Except perhaps Carter Hughes.

But let’s be real. He was a conquest way before he was a client… at least in my world.

***

Charley tilts her head to the side, repeatedly capping and uncapping her water bottle. “Do you think he’s going to offer you the contract?”

“I’ve been to his restaurant twice. The first time, I screwed him. The second time, he told me the numerous ways we should repeat our first meeting.” I frown at the bottle. Jesus, that’s annoying. “I think his order for me to meet him has more to do with the fact he slammed me against a wall and kissed me last night opposed to a contract.”

“Huh. You may as well run away if he doesn’t offer you the contract. Your mom will lose whatever sanity she has left.”

I groan and knock my head against the window of the booth we’re sitting in in the cafe. “I know. What’s wrong with me, Charley? Why can’t I keep myself under control?”

“Uh, he kissed you.” She clicks the bottle again.

I snatch it from her and slam it on the table. Thank God. “I know that. I’m just saying that maybe I should have, you know, pushed him away from me sooner.”

“Like a slap to the face?”

I was thinking a little less violent, but it works. “Something like that.”

The waitress brings Charley’s sandwich and my Caesar salad over and sets them on the table. We thank her, and then Charley focuses on me. “Did he specify the reason for the meeting?”

“No!” I furiously stab at a piece of chicken with my fork. “Mom would have said. Just that he wants to see me tonight. Outside of office hours. In his restaurant. Alone.”

She shrugs and bites into her sandwich. “So tell him you can’t go,” she says around the food in her mouth.

I frown at her then shake my head. “I can’t do that. What if it is for work?”

“Then he should use his words and tell you that.” She snorts. “Honestly, Bee. Just call him and find out.”

“Like he called me?” Yeah—it hasn’t escaped my notice that I gave him my direct number on the card, and he called my mother to bitch about me. I know why he did it. He’s trying to get under my skin, because clearly, my panties aren’t enough.

I want to call him. Then again, I also want to go and give him the cold shoulder for his dumbass tactics. The man is what—in his thirties? And he acted like an eight year old who had a pinecone thrown at their head or something.

Ugh. Professionalism is hard when personal issues get in the way. And without a doubt ours are in the way here.

I almost hope he’s called and wants to meet to tell me he isn’t hiring me. Almost. Because, then, hey… if he kisses me again, who am I to refuse?

The man can kiss. And do the rest of it.

This is why I shouldn’t be in business. I should be stacking shelves at Target or something. Maybe answering phones in a doctor’s office. Something where it doesn’t matter if I screw anyone because the worst they could be is someone I’ll pass again.

Jesus.

We finish the rest of our dinner in silence, and I glance at my wrist. My watch reads almost five forty-five. Crap.

“Can I leave my share?” I ask Charley. “I have to run.”

She grabs my hand and looks at my watch. “Only if you call me the second you leave and tell me everything.”

“Even if it’s personal?”

She grins. “Especially if it’s personal.”

“Fine.” I dig in my purse for my wallet and throw down twenty five bucks. “I’ll speak to you later.”

“Damn right you will.” Her eyes glitter with laughter as I get up and walk away. It takes everything I have not to flip her the bird over my shoulder.

I flag a cab once I’m outside and slip into the back seat, then direct him to Carter’s. I take a deep breath to try and center myself. Butterflies are fluttering around my stomach, and I feel like I could easily throw up at any moment. Not knowing what Carter wants with me has plagued me all day, and that’s exactly why I called Charley for dinner. I hoped that being with her would take my mind off it but I was wrong.

So wrong. God. I have no idea how I’m going to get through this.

I don’t want to admit how badly he affects me. He does. With his dark smirk and his arresting eyes, not to mention that sharp stubbly jaw and powerful grip… I want to melt as soon as he walks into a room. Only my own defiance stops me.

On the agenda for today: no melting.

Geez, I just don’t do this crap around men.

The cab stops outside Carter’s. I pay the driver then get out of the car. My heels click against the pavement as I walk toward the restaurant. It’s almost full, and I hesitate before opening the door.

This is a stupid idea.

Which is exactly why I close my fingers around the handle and pull the door open.

I never claimed to be fucking smart, did I?

“Welcome to Carter’s,” the hostess greets me. “Can I take your name, party size, and time of reservation?”

“Oh,” I manage. “Actually, I’m here to see Mr. Hughes. He’s expecting me. Bee Donnelly.”

She purses her lips. “One moment please.” She turns and disappears, walking in the direction of the bar door.

It’s always one damn moment in this place, isn’t it?

I so badly want to drum my fingers against the countertop of the host’s area or tap my foot against the floor. Don’t these people know I have an important meeting with Netflix and Bert the Battery Boyfriend tonight?

I do. A very long and important meeting. I might even switch out Netflix for PornHub to spice this shit up.

The hostess comes back and offers me another tight smile. “Mr. Hughes is through in the bar. He’s asked that you go straight through. He’s in booth one waiting for you.”

Of course he is. Of all the booths, it has to be that one.

“Thank you.” I smile back at her and clutch my purse to my body. I walk through the restaurant, feeling oddly conscious of the way I look. When Carter said he caters to primarily an exclusive clientele, I didn’t think he meant carats upon carats of diamonds and billionaire exclusive.

Then again, this is New York City. I’ve lived here my whole life and barely scratched the surface of the city’s wealth.

I push open the door to the bar and blink a few times to adjust to the much lower light. I should turn around right now and leave, because there’s no way a professional conversation can happen here. Especially not in that booth.

So why do my feet force me to walk alongside the black glass bar and pass every booth on the way?

Most of them have their curtains wide open, and I can just about make out figures behind the thick yet gauzy curtains.

Sweet fuck on a backseat. Could people see us at the weekend? Holy shit. I think they could—not clearly, but well enough. Oh God.

How the fuck didn’t he tell me about that? How could he not? Jesus! Now I’m pissed. Did he not think to bring that up at any point in our conversation?

With a renewed vigor, I storm the rest of the length of the bar and find booth one. The curtains are pulled back, and Carter is sitting in one corner. His phone is held against his ear and he holds one finger up to me.

Oh, he didn’t just do that.

He did.

I narrow my eyes. Unwillingly, I find myself exploring the way he looks. He’s relaxed back, his jacket discarded on the leather seat next to him. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, his tie unknotted but hanging around his neck. A glass of amber liquid is clasped in his hand and resting on his knee.

“Yes… Thank you. Goodbye.” He pulls the phone from his ear, taps the screen, and sets it on the table. Slowly, he looks up and meets my eyes. An easy smile spreads across his lips. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Donnelly. Or is it Bee today?”

I raise one eyebrow. “Is this meeting professional or personal?”

“Professional.” He smirks.

“Then it’s Ms. Donnelly.”

“Then have a seat, Ms. Donnelly.” He motions to the chair. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A glass of water will be fine, thank you.” I sit down, sliding the skirt of my dress beneath my thighs, and set my purse next to me.

“Are you sure? I seem to remember you enjoying the wine.”

Does he want my purse in his face? “I don’t drink during meetings, but again, thank you.”

He studies me for a second, his gaze almost making me squirm, but I hold steady under his scrutiny. “As you wish.” He waves his hand and catches a server. He orders my water and another of his drink. Silence lingers between us as the drinks are made and brought to us.

“Thank you,” I say to the girl who sets my water on the table.

She smiles and passes Carter his drink. “Is that all, sir?”

“Yes. Please ensure we aren’t disturbed.”

She nods her head once and backs out of the booth, then reaches for the curtains.

“Oh!” I stop her, extending a hand. “Please leave the curtains. Unless the meeting is a private one?” I turn to Carter, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Ms. Donnelly,” he says smoothly, “If this were private, we’d be in my office, don’t you think? Leave the curtains, if Ms. Donnelly feels more comfortable this way, Bianca.”

There’s a spark in his eye… One that’s daring. He’s pushing me to see how far he can make me go.

It’s written all over his face. In the twitch of his eyebrows, the curve of his lips, the intensity of his startling eyes… He wants to see how far he can take me before I break.

He’s playing a dangerous, dangerous game.

Good thing I know the rulebook.

“On second thought,” I say slowly, my eyes never leaving Carter’s, “Close the curtains. After all, people will hear me if I scream. Isn’t that right, Mr. Hughes?”

Bianca doesn’t move for a moment until Carter snaps, “Close the curtains!” They close quickly and she retreats, leaving us alone. Carter turns to me and sits up, then sets his glass on the table, his eyes blazing. “You’re very right. People can hear you scream. But only if I want them to. Remember that.”

I level him with a steady gaze. “Please get to the point of this meeting, Mr. Hughes.”

Our stare lasts a minute longer before he breaks it and leans forward. He rests his elbows on his knees and clasps in hands in front of him before looking up at me. “You’re very skilled. Your design for the restaurant is exceptional.”

I run my tongue across my lower lip. “Thank you.”

He takes a deep breath and rubs his chin. His thumb brushes across his lips. “But I have a big problem.”

I try not to let my heart drop at those words. Despite my own protests, I do want this contract. I love the concept I created.

“I’m not sure I can resist you,” he admits.

I snap my eyes to his.

“Does my admission surprise you?” he asks, tilting his head. “I thought it was somewhat obvious myself.”

“No… I’m surprise you admitted it,” I answer honestly.

“I see no reason to lie about my attraction to you, Ms. Donnelly. One of us may as well throw out the denial.”

“Are you suggesting I’m in denial?”

“Yes.”

I cross one of my legs over the other and lean forward. “You’ll be disappointed to learn that I’m not in denial where my attraction to you is concerned, Mr. Hughes. I can’t help but feel that we’re veering away from the point of this conversation, though.”

“On the contrary, we’re right on point. Our mutual attraction is the reason we’re here. If you were anyone else I’d have called and hired you after merely glancing at your design.”

“So why haven’t you called and told me you don’t want me to do it?”

“Because that isn’t true. I want to hire you. I want to hire you a whole fucking lot, but I don’t know if I trust myself to keep our relationship strictly professional. I can’t help but want you.”

I suck my lower lip into my mouth and bite down on it. This makes it so complicated. God… I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to him now.

It would be easier if I could promise him I can keep it professional, wouldn’t it?

Problem is… if he can’t… I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure how strong my refusal would be.

“What do you suggest we do?” I ask him, reaching for my water and sipping to wet my throat.

“I was hoping you had an idea.”

“Opening the curtains would be a good start,” I reply dryly.

His lips twitch up and he sits back. “Go ahead. I won’t stop you. Neither will I seduce you with them shut.”

“You’re incredibly confusing. Has anyone ever told you that?”

He laughs. The rich sound is like a warm hug. “All the time. My mother insists I stole that trait from my sister who is much easier than I am.”

“No. I don’t believe you,” I answer flatly.

He smiles. It’s the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen from him. “Izzy drops by often. She was the one who convinced me to have this conversation with you. She’s not much older than you are, and has always had a much clearer outlook than I have.”

I don’t know what I’m more surprised about—the fact he has a sister around my age or that he discussed us with her. “You… you told her what happened between us?”

“Not in so many words. She actually guessed and refused to accept my denials, so there we go.” He holds his hands out and picks up his glass.

My mouth goes dry. Holy shit. This is not how business meetings usually go.

Damn my pussy! This is all her fault!

“I think I’ll go for that wine after all,” I manage to rasp out. “Excuse me.”

“I can get—”

“No,” I argue. “I could do with a moment alone. Thank you, though.” I slide out of the booth with my purse and through the curtains, leaving him staring after me. It feels as though he’s watching long after I step out of his line of sight.

I guess this meeting is both professional and personal.

I take a deep breath and smile as Bianca rubs her hands on a towel and comes to me. “Could I get a glass of wine, please? Blush zinfandel.”

“Sure thing. On Mr. Hughes’ tab?” she queries, glancing back as she pulls a bottle from a fridge.

“Yes,” Carter’s voice travels across the bar.

I turn. He’s standing in the doorway of the booth, watching me. Fuck me, someone doesn’t know what the words ‘I need a moment’ mean, do they? “I’ll pay you, thank you.” I pull twenty dollars from my wallet and put it on the bar. Bianca takes it as smoothly as she sets my glass down. She rings it up on the register and hands me back my change. I smile in thank you and sip from my glass.

The cold, fruity taste is welcomed. So, so welcomed.

“I have a call to make,” Carter tells me, coming right up to me. “I’ll be around five or ten minutes. You’re welcome to wait in the booth.”

I nod and walk past him without a word. Honestly, I have nothing to say right this second. I really do need this time to process what he’s just said to me because I wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t expecting his bluntness and his raw honesty.

I wish I’d fucked up the design. I wish I hadn’t been so goddamn determined and that I’d just put whatever down. I wish I’d never given him a reason to contemplate hiring me.

I should have known better.

I should know a lot of things I clearly don’t.

I sink into the cold leather seat of the booth and lean back. After one more mouthful of my wine, I set the glass on the table and close my eyes. I pinch the bridge of my nose as if it’ll help me clear my mind.

I can sit here all I like and think about I should have done, but there’s shoulda, woulda, coulda for a reason, isn’t there? The amount of times I’ve said that to Charley is unreal, and now here I am, smack bang in the middle of a big ass motherfucking shoulda, woulda, coulda situation.

Really, it isn’t hard to decide what to do. I have to tell Carter that I’m real sorry, but I don’t think this professional relationship will work. If that means the wrath of my mother, then so be it. Fact is, this time, I know what the right choice is, and this is it.

We can’t work together. That was proved last night when he kissed me.

When he kissed me. Fuck, and he kissed me. The first time ever.

The worst thing about that kiss, the very worst thing?

He kissed me like he meant it.

There are a thousand types of kisses. Casual pecks. Teasing brushes. Lingering touches. Deep kisses. Slow and easy. Frantic and desperate. Pleading. Sad. Happy. Needy.

But the kisses that have meaning behind them? They’re the most horrendous things ever.

Give me a sloppy, drunken, lips, teeth, and tongue kiss over one that has meaning behind it any day.

I open my eyes and focus on my wine glass. I register his presence immediately but avoid making eye contact. Instead, I reach for my glass and take a mouthful.

Silence hovers between us. It feels oddly comfortable, but I can sense the undercurrent of tension just fizzling away. It’s a niggling sensation, like that of an itch just starting. I’m trying so hard to ignore it but it’s almost impossible.

“Are you all right?”

His voice rumbles over my skin, but I fight the shiver it elicits. “I was just thinking,” I respond quietly. I grasp my glass with two hands and rest it on my legs, then look into it. “About what you said.”

“You don’t have to decide anything right now. I just wanted to be honest with you. I want to hire you—like I said, your skills are exceptional—but I don’t know if I can,” he says in a low voice.

I give into the allure of his tantalizing gaze and turn my face to meet his. The brutal truth reflecting back at me makes my stomach flip. “I don’t know if I can work with you, Carter,” I say softly. “I’m not in the habit of working with my… acquaintances.”

His lips twitch. “Neither am I. But this decision is yours. I just know that I had a taste of you last night and fuck, I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

I swallow. Hard. “You and I both know how inappropriate that would be.”

“Exactly.” His nostrils flare. “If you agree, then I’m certain I’ll need you to resist me because I’m damn sure I can’t you.”

“What?” My eyebrows draw together in a frown. “I’ll need to resist you? How about if I agree to this then you respect me enough to keep your cock under control?”

“Will you sass me like that through the project, Bee?”

“My personality reflects the name, remember? Bright and sharp. You bet your fine fucking ass I’m going to sass you if you’re going to be an asshole.”

His lips pull up on one side into a devastatingly sexy smirk that sends lust bolting right through my pussy. “It’s your choice. You make the final decision. I don’t need an answer today.” He pulls a card from his pocket and slides it across the table. “Think on it and call me tomorrow.”

I take the card and give it a glance. “What if I don’t have a decision made tomorrow?”

“Then call me the next day.”

I look from him and back at the card. His name and his personal number as well as the restaurant’s is on it. “Thank you, but no thank you.” I put the card back down and push it back to him with two manicured fingernails. “I think we both know we’ll be wasting each other’s time if we attempt this. I don’t play pretend business well with others—least of those whose cocks have been halfway down my throat.”

“Excellent. Then you won’t mind if I do this.” He pounces on me before I can say a word.

I’m trapped against the seat by his hard body, and I shudder when he takes a fistful of my hair and tugs my face back. His hot breath cascades across my lips and I inhale sharply. I look up through my lashes, but the pressure of his mouth falling onto mine has them fluttering shut.

I reach up and wrap his silky tie around my hands, effectively holding him against me. God, he tastes so fucking good. Like whiskey and sin… rich and forbidden.

It doesn’t stop me flicking my tongue against his mouth and fighting a smile when he bites my lower lip then soothes the sting with his. It doesn’t stop my pussy clenching or my clit throbbing or my nipples hardening. It doesn’t stop the endless bolts of desire ricocheting around my body at light speed. No, it only heightens it.

The fact that I know I shouldn’t be doing this makes it feel even better. It’s so wrong but it feels so right. And I can’t stop. Fuck me, I can’t stop no matter how much I know I need to.

He tugs my head back. The sting from his action assaults my scalp, but it’s the good kind of sting. He drags his lip along my jaw and up to my ear. “Take the job,” he breathes. “Take it, Bee.”

“The position we’re in does nothing but convince me to stand by my refusal,” I whisper. My heart is pounding frantically, doing its best to keep me alive beneath this man’s deadly assault.

Carter runs his hand up along my thigh, over my skirt, and it finally comes to rest on my waist. His breath flits across my neck, and I close my eyes again at the warmth. “What if I say this—once more? You and me. Right now. Kill the tension between us and then that’s it.”

“On what planet does that make sense? Sure—let’s give into temptation and hope it goes away.” I let go of his tie and turn my face to him. He pulls back so our eyes meet, and I shake my head. “Sorry, Carter. I don’t ride the same bull twice.”

He eases his hand up my body, his palm brushing across my breast, until he’s cupping my chin. “You’re not leaving until you agree.”

“I thought you said it was my decision.”

“I’m a fucking liar. Say yes now and we’re done. Say yes after one more fuck and we’re done. Which one is it?”

Talk about a rock and a hard place.

But I did have that conversation with Ms. Greedy Pussy and tell her we’re only playing with Bert the Battery Boyfriend… Then again, Bert doesn’t offer much in the way of dirty talk or oral…

So I do something I might regret in the morning and give him my answer.

***

“You turned him down? Are you insane?” Charley cries, slamming her hands on my desk.

I throw a pen at her. “Shut your mouth!” I hiss. “Yes, I turned him down. What else was I supposed to do? Tell him I’d fuck him and then give him the inevitable answer? Don’t be dumb!”

“Girl! Sex! Real penis!” She slaps her hand against her forehead. “I know you’d feel like you were cheating on Bert, but come on. He dies on you all the time.”

“Only because I keep buying store brand batteries,” I argue. “I’m cheap, what can I say?”

“She says while wearing seven hundred dollar shoes,” she mutters. “Whatever. Did you tell your mom yet?”

“That I got the contract? Sure. It was the first thing I said to her this morning. She shit a unicorn and then peed out rainbows she was so excited.”

“I guess your hippy dad’s ways rubbed off on her after all.”

I snort. Hippy Dad is currently in Mexico, probably delivering drugs for a cartel but smoking half of them on the way. “Whatever. Look—it’s simple. Carter is closing the restaurant next Thursday and then I have ten days to get it back together. I don’t have to see him until then, and then it’s only briefly.”

Yeah. After I told him there’d be no sex happening last night, we agreed terms of the contract. The written copy should be on my desk later today, but the long and short of it is that we’ll spend no longer than ten minutes in each other’s company unless someone else is there. Clearly his cock has a mind of its own, and we all know my vagina is a rule-breaking slut, so if we aren’t alone together, shenanigans can’t be shenaniganed.

It’s foolproof. Like kids’ medicine bottles, which I still can’t get into at twenty-six. Also note that Charley’s five year old niece can break into them like a pro, so foolproof is apparently only for people who can think for themselves.

Basically, I don’t think it’ll work. I think it’s fucking stupid, but I can’t have the man kissing me like that all the time. It’s like… Gah. Ugh. Fuck my life. Grr. Roar. Fuck! Yeah… that sums the craziness up, doesn’t it?

It just has to work this way.

“You don’t honestly think this is going to work, do you?” Charley asks me, one eyebrow raised so high it’s practically disappeared beneath her bangs.

“I’m trying to keep a positive outlook on the situation,” I tell her. “I only have to spend seven days around him with minimal contact, and then I can go back to having my life the way it was before.” Just with a lot less sex. I’d hate for this to happen for a second time, after all…

Charley stares at me. “Sweetie, you’re deluded.”

“I know.” I sigh heavily and drop forward on my desk. “The hell am I supposed to do, Charley? I had to say yes. I couldn’t not. He made that perfectly clear.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” She smacks her lips together. “Just so you’re aware, I’m making this disclaimer: As your best friend, I’ve told you that you’re a fucking idiot and that I don’t agree with this, even in the name of business, but I will be here when it all comes falling down with a card that says ‘I told you so, douchedick.’ Are we clear?”

“Perfectly. Now fuck off. I have to work.”