Yes, he said that. He said a whole lot more too, plenty of which I wish to banish from my brain forever.
When I told my grandma what happened with Brian—how it turned out he had a wife and kids—she’d read me the riot act. Chewed me out for what felt like hours, though it probably only equaled about fifteen minutes. Told me if I continued flirting with these men who were in positions of authority, I’d never get ahead unless I had sex with them. That was all they thought of when they looked at me.
A sexpot. She’d called her own granddaughter a sexpot though now I suppose she said it to warn me. I always heard how I needed to make good choices.
So I tried. I tried and tried and tried and here I sit, in a hotel suite paid for by my boss, and I’m still contemplating how I can get him into my room, so I can have a chance with him at least once before I quit and go back home to Cactus.
Have I lost my mind? I worry so much how others will see me, yet I still want Matt. I can’t help it. If people are going to call me a sexpot, a slut, or a tramp, I guess I can go ahead and give them a reason to, right?
Respect yourself. If you don’t, no one else will either.
I need to remember that.
My cell phone buzzes and I glance at it to see a text from Matt.
You in your hotel room?
I sure am, typing up notes just for you, I answer.
No reply, and I stare at the screen of my phone, willing something to appear. When nothing happens, I toss it aside and start typing up my notes again, my eyelids growing heavier with the menial task.
It was bad enough I had to sit through those sessions. Now I’m reliving them by rewriting the notes, reminding me exactly how boring they’d been.
Well, boring to me. Matt would probably find it fascinating since he’s in the business but definitely not me.
My phone dings again, and I grab it.
You should meet me at the Blue Fin Restaurant downstairs in thirty minutes.
Why?
I chew on my fingernail, waiting for his answer. I already had room service for dinner, ordering a delicious pasta dish with shrimp and a salad on the side the moment I got back to the hotel. I’m not even hungry.
I want to take you out to dinner.
The Blue Fin is a gorgeous restaurant in the hotel; I keep peeking in there when I walk by. I’m dying to check it out but not like this.
Staring at my phone’s screen, I contemplate how I should answer. The conference is over for the night. We have one more day tomorrow and then it’s over. Dinner tonight isn’t official business.
It feels personal. Like a date.
I already ate. Didn’t you eat too?
Have dessert then. And the meal they gave us at the keynote was crap. I’m still hungry.
A little sigh escapes me, and I stare out the window again, drinking in the beautiful city view. I should decline. I should stay in my pretty hotel room and type up my messy notes and fall asleep in my deliciously soft bed. A good girl would do that. She wouldn’t be tempted to do something bad, like go out on a dinner date with her boss.
But I never said I was a good girl.
I want to spend time with Matt. I want to go out to dinner with him and stare at his handsome face from across the table. I want to hear him tell me a story, and then I want to tell him a story and make him laugh. I want him to reach across the table and grab my hand, entwining our fingers.
I want it all, and I want it with Matt.
Grabbing my phone, my fingers hover over the keys for a millisecond before I start typing.
You said thirty minutes?
Yep, he replies. We on?
A smile curves my lips as I answer him.
We are definitely on.
Matt
I’M EXHAUSTED. THE jet lag, the running from one session to the next at the conference, the information coming at me from all sides, it’s all depleting my energy. I should’ve just gone to my room, ordered room service and collapsed into a deep, dreamless sleep.
But none of that matters because here I am, waiting for Bryn at the entrance to the Blue Fin, eagerness at seeing her making my stomach jump like a pond full of hyperactive fish. I’ve hardly seen her since we arrived in New York City. We’ve been on separate schedules, meeting up in odd spots, like in the corridor of the event center earlier this afternoon. I’d been rushing by, but I called her name when I noticed her exiting a room.
She’d waved, looking adorable in dark-rinse jeans that fit her sexy legs perfectly, a secretive smile curling those sensual lips.
My cock had literally twitched at seeing her, even for such a fleeting second.
“Hi. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
I turn at the first sound of her sultry voice, smiling when I see Bryn standing before me. She’d changed and is now wearing a sleek, simple long-sleeved black dress that covered pretty much every available inch of her save her face, hands, calves and feet. Yet somehow she still manages to be sensual as hell, what with the way the fabric clings lovingly to her body.
“Miss James. I must say you’re looking extra beautiful this evening.”
Her cheeks color, turning a beautiful shade of pink as she clutches her hands in front of her. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her gaze meeting mine for the briefest second before she lets it drop. “You look good too.”
I’m still in the black trousers I’ve worn all day but changed into a white button-down shirt right after I texted her, wanting to dress up a little bit since I figured the Blue Fin had something of a dress code. I’d planned on going to dinner alone. Well, I told myself that. “Thank you. Ready to be seated?”
When she nods, I lead her to the front desk, requesting a table for two. The hostess grabs two menus and leads us up the floating stainless steel staircase to a semi-private alcove, filled with quiet booths that line the wall and overlook the bright lights of Times Square. A small jazz quartet plays along the opposite wall—soothing, soft music that adds to the hushed atmosphere.
“You’re not hungry?” I ask after the hostess leaves us, flipping open the menu immediately. “I’m starved. Conference chicken and dry rice pilaf doesn’t do much for my appetite.”
She laughs, the sweet sound washing over me, making me yearn. For her. “Sounds awful.”
“It was.” I glance over the entrees, my stomach grumbling at some of the offerings, especially the blue cheese-encrusted filet mignon. “I know what I’m having,” I say, shutting the menu.
“So do I,” she says, closing hers as well, her sparkling gaze meeting mine. She looks extra pretty in the candlelight, and I can smell her. That intoxicating scent of hers that drives me wild. I don’t know if I can withstand it much longer.
“You getting dessert?”
“I think so. I filled up on a pasta dish from room service earlier. It was delicious.” She smiles, a mysterious little curve of her lips that makes me want to discover all of her secrets. She has lots of them. I don’t know much about her, and I wish I did. Seeing her like this, spending time with her, fills me with greed.
I want more. More of Bryn.
“That’s what I should’ve done rather than listening to that guest speaker. He was boring.” I take a sip of my ice water, hoping it’ll cool my suddenly heated skin. Just watching her, how the candle flickering on our table casts her face in a golden glow, I’m mesmerized by how beautiful she is, how at ease she seems to be with me tonight. This is a first. We haven’t felt this comfortable with each other in weeks.
“We should’ve ditched the conference altogether today and explored the city,” Bryn suggests. “I know we’re here to work, but I’ve never been to New York City before.”
“It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?”
She nods. “I feel like a total hick coming here. Like I want to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and just stare at everything. All the people, the noise, the lights, the smells—I’ve truly never seen anything like it. Cactus has nothing on this place.”
I
like it when she talks about her past, which isn’t often enough for my liking. It offers a glimpse into her world that I don’t get to see. She’s a private person, and I can’t blame her but I’m still curious.
The waiter approaches and we order drinks—water for Bryn and a beer for me—plus a crab cake appetizer that I offer to share but she passes on it.
“I don’t really do seafood,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
Damn, she’s cute. I notice when she gets tired or feels comfortable, the southern accent makes a faint appearance.
“Really? I love it.”
“We don’t get much seafood in Cactus if you know what I mean. It’s terribly dry and flat and not an ocean in sight.”
We grew up in completely different worlds. I’d spent my entire life in the Bay Area, bouncing around as my dad moved us from place to place, but never really straying. Growing up by the ocean in such a huge city, I never realized what an effect it had on me. How it made me view the world. For Bryn, growing up in such a small town in the middle of nowhere had profound effects on her too. “What made you leave your hometown?”
“There was nothing there for me.” Her expression shutters, and I wonder why. It always feels like there’s more behind her reasoning, and she’s just not telling me. “It’s a small town that’s going nowhere. I would’ve gone nowhere.” She tears her gaze from mine, staring off into space. “But sometimes if you have no other choice, you have to settle for nowhere, you know?”
No, I didn’t know, but I’d never been one to settle. If there was something I wanted, I went after it until it was mine. I liked a challenge. “Settling for nowhere sounds like a last resort.”
“What if you’ve tried all the resorts and none of them worked out?” she asked, her voice dropping to a low murmur as her gaze meets mine once again, her eyes wide, her expression . . . forlorn.
I immediately want to comfort her. Wrap her in my arms and reassure her everything’s going to be all right. I don’t even know what I’d be referring to, but I don’t care. She brings out a protectiveness in me I didn’t even realize I had.
“What are you talking about Bryn?” There’s definitely more going on here than what she’s saying, and I want to know what it is.
“I left home because I had a bad experience at a job.” A funny little smile crosses her lips, and I wonder what sort of bad experience she’s talking about. “Then I moved to Los Angeles because I decided to become a model. I’m tall, I have a decent face, and I decided I was going to use my natural assets to get a job. But that was a disaster.”
I can only imagine. I’ve heard plenty of firsthand stories of how Hollywood chews up these pretty, naive girls and spits them out.
Bryn was gorgeous enough that I wouldn’t doubt she had a lot of interest. Probably all of it overtly sexual though, since so many of the sleazy photographers and directors that line the Hollywood streets won’t do anything for a girl unless she sleeps with them first.
“So the job at the winery was a last ditch effort before I had to go back home for good. I found the job on Craigslist. I loaded up my old Saturn with my few boxes of stuff and drove north to the land of new opportunities. Only to discover the winery was hanging by a thread and eventually we weren’t even getting paid properly. Until you walked in and saved us all.”
The waiter chooses this moment to show up with our drinks and my appetizer, interrupting Bryn’s story. I wait impatiently as he places everything in front of us and takes our dinner orders—well my dinner order since Bryn chose salted caramel cake for her dessert. He even tries to make conversation, and I finally glare at him until he gets the hint and takes off.
“Matt, that was kind of rude,” Bryn chastises the moment the waiter’s gone. “He was just trying to do his job and be nice.”
“He interrupted you.” I grab my silverware and place my napkin in my lap before I dig into the crab cake. It smells amazing, the sauce that comes with it is delicious and my starving stomach is applauding my choice even as I begin eating. “Go on,” I prompt her after I swallow.
“I was pretty much done. You were my savior and now here we sit, in New York City. You showing the country bumpkin how the big city folk live.” She props her elbow on the edge of the table and rests her chin on her fist. “You’ve taught me a lot in a short amount of time, Matt, and for that I’m eternally grateful.”
She’s speaking with a finality that makes me uneasy. “I’ll show you more if you let me,” I say, going with the double meaning behind my words. Why pretend any longer? I’m sick of it. I don’t know if she is too, considering she’s been running pretty hot and cold lately, but I am one who goes after something—or someone—once I realize I want it.
And I want her. Bryn. I’m tired of fighting my attraction for her.
Her arm drops from the table as she leans back in her chair. “What do you mean by that?”
I shrug. “Take from it whatever you want.”
She studies me for a long, quiet moment, her gaze roving over my face before she finally reaches for her water glass and drains half of it. “I won’t sleep with you, Matt,” she says after she sets the glass on the table.
I’m shocked yet pleased at her boldness. “What I’m suggesting won’t involve any sleeping, Bryn.”
Her lips part as her eyes widen the slightest bit. “We shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I work for you.”
“I know. That little fact does make my attraction for you rather—awkward.” There. I said it. And I’m not taking it back either.
“I’ve tried resisting you.” She drops her head, studies her lap, and I want to reach for her. Pull her into my arms and offer her reassurance, let her know she’s not alone in this confusing sea of emotions and wants and needs.
I’m right there with her, drowning in the swirling sea, hoping she’ll be the one who finally throws me an anchor and tows me in.
“I’ve tried resisting you too,” I confess in a low murmur. “Clearly it’s not working since I still want you.”
“Is it a case of wanting what you can’t have?” Her head is still bent, her voice so soft I can hardly hear it.
My appetite has fled. I set my fork on the edge of the plate and push it away. All I can think about, all I can want is this woman sitting across from me. “No. It’s a case of wanting what I’ve had a taste of, and needing more of it. More of you.”
She slowly lifts her head, her gaze meeting mine. “I got in trouble for doing this before.”
I frown, confused by her change of subject. “For doing what?”
“Fooling around with my boss. I was nineteen. It was my first real job. My boss flirted with me and really turned on the charm until he finally wore me down, and I fell under his spell.” She pauses, licking her lips. “He literally chased me around his desk all the time. It turned into this . . . game, and I actually liked the chase. Finally I let him catch me.”
“What happened?” Dread fills me. I don’t think I want to hear her answer.
“I . . . let him kiss me. A lot. And . . . and more. We had sex, right there in his office. He made all of these promises to me, and I believed him. Oh, how I believed him. I thought I’d met the perfect man for me. Older, experienced, and sophisticated. I thought he would take me out and show me the world.” She makes this funny little face, rolling her eyes, and smirking like she can’t believe how silly she was. “Then I found out he was married and had a child. His wife called me and yelled at me. Told me she found text messages he’d sent me, and I couldn’t believe he kept them on his phone. She called me a whore and a slut and a home wrecker.”
“You were young,” I say in her defense. “And he tricked you.”
“I was dumb. And a home wrecker just like she said. How could I not know he was married? Cactus is a tiny town. I should’ve known.” She presses her lips together, looking ready to cry.
I reach across the table and grab her arm, lifting it up so I can interlace our f
ingers, giving her hand a squeeze. “Hey, stop. Don’t beat yourself up. You didn’t know.”
“I was an idiot,” she sniffs.
“No you weren’t.” Her boss was a jackass of the worst kind. Taking advantage of a young, naive girl. Getting her to fall for him all while he was married.
“I had sex with my married boss.”
“I’m not that guy. And I’m definitely not married.” I reach for her with my other hand, slipping my fingers beneath her chin and lifting her face up. “And I don’t have any kids either. You can kiss this boss all you want.”’
She smiles in spite of it all, a beautiful, bright, and toothy smile unlike any I think I’ve ever seen her display. “I like you, Matthew DeLuca. A lot.”
“Enough to kiss me again?” I ask, my heart starting to pick up speed.
“We shouldn’t.”
“There are lots of things we shouldn’t do.” Leaning in, I hover just above her lips, feel her breath feathering across my own. “Sometimes we just have to do it anyway.”
Chapter Eleven
* * *
Bryn
HE KISSES ME after he says that. His mouth touches mine gently before he lifts away from me to flash a quick smile. He dips down and kisses me again, for real this time, with heat and tongue and little moans and rough groans. I lose myself in his taste, in the way he squeezes my fingers in his, how his fingers hold my chin and softly caress my skin.
Right here in a booth in the middle of a restaurant in the middle of Times Square, Matt kisses me like he means it. After he hears bits and pieces of my sordid story, it’s like it didn’t even affect him. Oh, he showed sympathy in all the right places—shock and horror and disgust—but never at me. It was like he understood what happened.
And kissed me anyway.
Someone clears their throat, and I spring away from Matt to find the waiter standing before our table, holding a tray with our plates on it and a smug smile on his face. Matt scoots away from me reluctantly, letting go of my hand as the waiter scoops up his appetizer, which he’d hardly eaten.
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