“What are you talking about?” she asked, still perfectly poised as if she hadn’t just admitted to being a cheating liar.
He glared at her, though the glare wasn’t terribly effective, he feared, since he was still naked and now standing before her with a half-erect cock because, let’s face it—his penis didn’t care that he was pissed. She was there and she looked hot. That was all his nether regions seemed to care about.
She frowned up at him. “Why are you so angry?”
“Seriously?” he asked as he slid on his boxers and reached for his shirt. “You used me to cheat on some poor schmuck and you want to know why I’m angry?”
Her frown cleared and he found himself on the other end of a look that was even more annoying. It was condescending, to say the least. “My apologies, I should have explained. Patrick and I aren’t officially together at the moment. We’re on a break.”
He stared at her with one arm in a sleeve and the other dangling at his side. Patrick. He hated Patrick with a fiery passion that couldn’t be explained. He also couldn’t move. He was a little afraid that were he to move, he might track down this Patrick and kill him.
Then the rest of her words sank in. “On a break?” he repeated.
She gave a short nod. “He’s getting his masters and we agreed that we should be unhindered while he’s away.”
“Unhindered.” Caleb found himself repeating her as his brain tried to make sense out of her words.
She nodded. “Yes. We are both too busy and focused on our respective careers to waste time trying to navigate a long distance relationship.” She shrugged as though this made sense. As though she wasn’t speaking some foreign, archaic language only known to residents of planet Kennedy.
“And when he’s done at school…” he prompted.
“Once he’s earned his MBA, he plans to return to New York and we will resume our relations.”
He stopped himself from mindlessly repeating ‘resume our relations.’ Instead he cleared his throat and struggled to come up with something to say. He settled on murmuring, “I see.” By which he meant, that is the most insane plan he’d ever heard in his life.
She met his gaze with that even, impassable expression, the one that hid everything she was feeling. “I’m glad you understand. I figured you would after last night’s conversation.” She gave him a rare smile. “Since you have your dream woman, you can understand that I have a set criteria of my own.”
“And Patrick matches this set criteria,” he finished, his mind flashing back to the checklist Kennedy had handed him on his first day on which he’d ticked off his skills, education, and areas in which he wanted to improve.
Had Patrick filled out a similar survey on their first date? Was there a section on his performance in the bedroom? These were all questions he wanted to ask but couldn’t quite bring himself to.
He was more than a little afraid to hear her answer.
But once again she seemed to be waiting for a response, and he found himself nodding like an idiot. “That sounds very… practical.”
She met his gaze quickly and searched his face. He knew she was trying to determine if he was being sincere. Then she surprised him by letting out a short, humorless laugh, her posture relaxing slightly, presumably because they’d had “the talk” that she’d clearly been intent on having this morning.
“Funny you say that. Patrick always says practical is my middle name.”
Patrick could rot in hell. He swallowed down the inexplicable, and entirely uncharacteristic rage that seemed to be linked to Patrick’s name. He attempted to smile through the anger. “No, it’s not. Constance is your middle name.”
She arched her brows in surprise. “How do you know that?”
He couldn’t hide his smug smile. Maybe he should have been ashamed of his sneaky ways, but he was actually a little proud. “I snuck a peek at your license when you were carded at the bar last night.”
She pursed her lips, her brows drawing together. “Why did you do that?”
“Because you know everything about me, but I know next to nothing about you.”
Her brow furrowed even more as if his statement was truly boggling. “That’s ridiculous. I’m an open book.”
He snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, okay.”
This seemed to annoy her. She stood up from the bed, finally dropping her prim and proper hands-in-lap pose so she could face him with arms akimbo and feet planted shoulder width apart. She looked like she was about to start barking commands or maybe like she was about to charge him and tackle him to the ground.
If he had his pick, he’d opt for the latter, even though he was fairly certain she could kick his ass if she so chose.
“You were being sarcastic.” It was an accusation, pure and simple. “Yeah, okay,” she drawled, mimicking his tone perfectly. “That was sarcasm.”
He stared at her as though she’d lost her mind, mainly because he was concerned that she had. “Yeah, it was sarcasm. What’s your point?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Last night when Kat was telling us about your fairytale dream girl, she said this paragon of virtue had to be funny but not sarcastic.”
When she stopped talking, he crossed his arms so he matched her defensive stance. “And?”
She shrugged, but her eyes flashed with annoyance. “So it just seems hypocritical, that’s all. You’re allowed to be sarcastic, but heaven forbid Dream Date Barbie’s sense of humor isn’t all sweetness and light.”
He shook his head at her bizarre anger. “What are you even talking about?” Before she could respond, he asked a far more pertinent question. “And why do you even care?”
This stopped her cold. Her mouth snapped shut. Then she shrugged. “I don’t.”
He took a step toward her. “Because you made it very clear that you don’t want to date me.”
“I don’t,” she said.
“So then why do you care what I want in my ideal woman?”
Her lips curved up in a sneer. “Ugh. Do you hear yourself? Ideal woman. What does that even mean? Women are women. Just women. There are no goddesses hiding among us. I hate to break it to you, but no one you date is going to be perfect.”
He tried to swallow down his anger. He didn’t do anger. He hated being angry. It was bad enough that Patrick’s name sent him into a freakin’ tizzy, but now he was getting all worked up because this woman—this co-worker-slash-hookup—was dismissing his romantic partner.
Granted she was hypothetical at this point, but that didn’t mean she didn’t exist. Somewhere.
“Sorry,” he said. “I guess not all of us can be so practical when we pick our partners in life.”
And yes, his tone was incredibly sarcastic. Did that make him a hypocrite? Maybe. But he didn’t think so and at the moment he didn’t really care.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, though he was positive she already knew.
“It means I can’t believe I’m being lectured on romance by the woman in the least romantic relationship I’ve ever heard of.” Shit. The moment the words were out, he regretted them. He’d crossed the line. He’d been too harsh. He’d—
“You’re right,” she said.
He’d been right, apparently.
To his surprise, she gave him a small smile that made his heart rate quadruple and lungs contract in his chest. God, she had a great smile. Sexy, sassy, and so incredibly tempting. The fact that she didn’t smile often made it that much more meaningful.
“You’re right,” she said again, dropping her arms. “I’m in no position to judge. Sorry.”
His anger disappeared and he felt more than a little ridiculous at overreacting. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t judge your relationship with…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the hated name aloud. “With that guy.”
She tilted her head back and forth as if considering his apology. “You can judge. Everyone does. I don’t mind.”
He met her smile. Once a
gain she’d surprised him with an unpredictable response.
“It just…” He struggled for a second to find the right words. “It just doesn’t seem like you.”
She widened her eyes. “What do you mean? Of course it’s me. I told you, practical is my middle name.”
Patrick told her that. His hands fell to his side and he clenched his fists. Fuck, he really hated that guy. He tried to hide the anger with a joking tone. “No, we’ve already agreed that Constance is your middle name.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I am practical. I’m levelheaded, straightforward. What you see is what you get.”
For a second he thought maybe she was joking. He thought back to that first night they’d met and then to every encounter since. “You’re kidding, right?”
Her lips pulled to the side in a sort of tolerant scowl. She looked like the fucking sexiest librarian on the planet. He would happily take a ruler to the knuckles from the woman. Or any other punishment she was willing to give, for that matter.
“You barely know me,” she said. Both of their gazes flickered to the bed. “Outside of the bedroom, I mean.”
He loved the way her cheeks got just the tiniest bit pink at the admission that he knew her intimately within the bedroom. “Maybe we haven’t spent a ton of time together, but I think I’m a pretty good judge of character. I study people all the time as part of my acting career, and I can tell you right now that my first impressions of you were not at all the way you describe yourself.”
He saw the curiosity in her eyes before her gaze grew shuttered and she turned partially so she was facing the dresser and mirror rather than him. “Okay then, oh wise actor man, what were your first impressions of me?”
He thought back to that night when he’d spotted her from across the crowded bar. “Strong.”
Her gaze flickered to him and her eyes narrowed. “Is that your nice way of saying you thought I was a bitch?”
He ignored her because it was clear she had no idea how to take a compliment. Instead he replayed that night in his mind’s eye and gave her the God’s honest truth. “Smart.”
She gave a short laugh as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Why? Because I took home a stranger who could have been a serial killer? Yeah, that was real smart.”
He remembered that wicked little smile, her inscrutable gaze, the way she’d kept him guessing from their very first interaction. “Mysterious.”
She let out a snort. “More like guarded.”
He let out a long sigh. “Excuse me, but these are my first impressions. Enough with the sarcasm.”
“Oh that’s right. I forgot how sarcasm is such a turn off for you,” she said sarcastically.
He arched one brow. “Are you through?”
With a roll of her eyes, she sighed. “Fine, carry on.”
He watched her for a long moment, the way she held herself so defensively and yet so vulnerable. He could see it now while he hadn’t that first night. She was strong, yes. But she was also sensitive underneath all that bravado and sarcasm. Why else would she hide behind that stoic, all-business mask? He felt a tug in his chest, like his heart was readjusting itself.
The sensation wasn’t uncomfortable but he had to clear his throat before he could speak. And before he did, he moved toward her, needing her to see his eyes, to know that he was sincere.
“I thought you were strikingly beautiful, and funny, and maybe just a little jaded.”
She made a humph noise but she didn’t comment and she didn’t try to stop him when he reached out for her and tugged her into his arms. God, she truly was beautiful.
He leaned down until his lips were so close to hers he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek. “I also thought you were sexy as hell.”
He heard her breath catch, felt her arms tighten around his neck as she pressed her long, lean body against his, fitting against him in a way that felt so good it ought to be criminal.
“Sexy, huh?” She moved her lips closer so they brushed against his. “No man has ever called me sexy before.”
“Then all other men are idiots.” It came out on a growl. He was angry on her behalf that other men—Patrick, namely—had ignored her amazing sex appeal. This woman should be told every day just how beautiful she is, how smart and how funny and how talented and how fucking sexy.
His kiss was rougher than he’d intended, his body trying to show her just how sexy she was, just how appealing. Her response was more passionate than he could have imagined, her moan soft and sweet as she writhed against him, trying to get even closer.
He scooped her up in his arms and strode toward the bed, never breaking the kiss.
It was Kennedy who pulled away first, moving her head back as he laid her on the bed. “So we’re agreed then, right?” she said, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. “This is only temporary?”
He growled again, involuntary and inexplicable. Yes, this was temporary. He knew that was all this could ever be. Still, hearing her say it. Hearing her push the issue—it stung. No, it more than stung. It fucking hurt like hell.
But he didn’t want to overanalyze that kneejerk reaction any more than he wanted to continue this conversation. So instead of answering he pulled back slightly so he was hovering over her, his weight resting on his elbows. “Has anyone ever told you you’re pushy?”
She smacked his shoulder but he caught that wicked little grin before she hid it with a scowl. “That’s a sexist thing to say. Have you ever noticed that men are never called pushy or bossy? It’s just women and I—”
He cut her off with another kiss. “You’re also argumentative,” he teased.
He felt her smile against his lips when he leaned in to kiss her again. “I prefer assertive.”
Moving his head back just far enough to meet her gaze, he grinned. “Either way, it’s fucking hot as hell.”
Chapter Eleven
Kennedy slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle as she waited for Caleb to come into her office.
He was so going to hate this idea. And the thought of the look on his face when he heard it made her giggle again.
It was the second giggle in as many seconds and that alone should have sobered her. Giggling had become something of an epidemic lately. All weekend she’d found herself laughing and giggling and…ugh. She was disgusting herself with her girlieness.
Even Emma had called her on it when she’d made a brief foray out of the bedroom to grab them some snacks on Sunday afternoon.
“I have never heard you laugh like that,” she’d said as she’d thrown another load of laundry into the dryer. Her smile had been knowing, her tone teasing.
Kennedy had thrown a pair of Emma’s dirty jeans at her for it. “Shut up.”
That had only made Emma laugh harder. “I’m happy for you. It’s about time you discovered the joys of amazing sex.”
That comment had calmed a subtle anxiety that had been growing all weekend. She’d tried to ignore it as they’d enjoyed their little staycation in her bedroom, but Emma’s words managed to squelch it entirely.
Amazing sex. Of course. That’s all it was.
She and Patrick might have had a lovely relationship but their sex life had never been amazing. It had been… adequate. Which was just fine by her. She didn’t need amazing sex. Of course, she’d enjoy it while she had it, but it wasn’t a requirement for her life partner.
But even now as she battled a ridiculous case of the giggles, she reminded herself of Emma’s words the day before. It was just amazing sex. This crazy lightness she felt, the way she couldn’t seem to get enough of Caleb—in the bed and out—it could all be chalked up to hormones. Or pheromones. Or something else that ended in “mones.”
See? Science. She dropped her hand from her mouth and set her lips in a firm line befitting this office environment.
Then Caleb walked in and she found herself grinning like an idiot at his awesome smile.
He was too freakin’ hot. No on
e should be allowed to walk around smiling like that, all dimples and chin clefts and panty-melting eye smolders. It just wasn’t fair.
“You wanted to see me, boss?”
She shifted slightly at the reminder that she was kinda sorta his boss. Well, his supervisor. This whole temporary arrangement was probably a terrible idea. It was unprofessional and she was never unprofessional.
But worrying about that now was pointless. The deed was done.
The dirty deed. Aw yeah.
She bit back an exasperated sigh at her inner child’s ridiculousness of late. It seemed the more time she spent with Caleb the more immature she became. Thank God this was ending soon.
“Are you all right?” Caleb slid into the chair opposite her. “You look like the milk in your coffee went bad or something.”
She frowned. Did she? Dammit, now it seemed she’d lost all control over her facial expressions around this guy.
He leaned back, crossing his long legs in front of him and looking completely at ease. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that they’d crossed lines this past weekend.
“What did you want to see me about?”
Right. Business. If he could be professional, so could she. “I wanted to ask you a favor—”
His eyes lit up and she added quickly, “A work-related favor.”
He leaned forward. “I’m intrigued.”
Don’t be. He was so going to hate this idea. She cleared her throat. This was business, not personal. And no, she would not laugh while she asked this favor. “As you may have heard, the star of Mr. Hermithead has gone missing.”
He sat up straighter.
“Not missing missing,” she clarified. “He’s done this before. He’s kind of a….” She waved her hand as she tried to come up with a nice, professional way of saying “asshole.”
“Diva?” Caleb suggested.
“Yes, exactly. He’s the star of the show and he knows that the show is our biggest hit so he thinks he holds all the cards around here.”
Caleb made a face of disgust. “Sounds like a nightmare.” He shook his head. “Every once in a while we got a diva like that on set but they never lasted long. One thing those types don’t realize is just how little influence they really have. Piss off the writers one too many times and—” He made a slashing move against his neck.
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