The woman he spotted was spending more time looking at the art than the people. Her glass was still full. She was the least likely to push him away before she had a chance to analyze the situation. It didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous—golden hair piled high, with a few ringlets loose around her face; a long, slender neck; and a dress that hugged every inch of curve, without showing a whole lot of skin. Elegant and classy.
He strolled up to her, the clack of heels behind him telling him Katy followed. The stranger met his gaze, and he said, “I’m glad you made it, love. I was worried I wouldn’t see you tonight.”
The stranger wore a half-scowl as she looked between him and Ms. Blue. “Love, this is Katy,” he said.
“Cynthia.” The blonde extended her hand. She was playing along. Perfect.
Ms. Blue’s smile slipped, and she returned the handshake. “Pleasure.”
Aaron rested a hand on the small of Cynthia’s back, hoping to strike the balance between looking involved and not pissing the woman off before the gig was up. “My tempting Cyn and I are going to enjoy the rest of the show. Good luck selling your priceless Picasso, Ms. Blue.”
IT WASN’T THAT CYNTHIA disliked people. They were fine, one at a time. But she preferred numbers. If she added one to one, she got two. Not three, or seven, or a brokenhearted point five. Two. She turned to the man who’d adopted her as an accessory. “She owns a Picasso?” Not the most brilliant thing she could have said, but she was piecing together what happened.
“No. But she wants people to think she does. Thank you for saving me, by the way. Aaron.”
He was attractive. Dark hair brushed his ears, and he had pale-green eyes she had to tilt her head up to see. It was rare for her to meet a guy taller than her, especially when she wore heels. His suit was made to accentuate and hang from every place a good suit should, showing off broad shoulders and a narrow waist.
“Cynthia. But you already know that.” Why was she flustered? She was familiar with his type. They thought they were smooth as shit until someone called them on it, and then they fell apart. Their reaction to someone seeing through their façade was an unknown variable in a world she preferred to keep ordered.
He looked her over, gaze lingering on her hips and breasts before returning to her face. “And you are a sinful temptation.”
The cheesy play on her name was enough to snap her reason back on. The attention was flattering, but she knew better than to be sucked in. When she’d started her matchmaking firm, she let guys like this Aaron in the door, along with every other client. Everyone deserved a chance, and she didn’t make sweeping assumptions about people.
She’d never been able to match one, though. Guys like him didn’t work with her algorithm, because they were so focused on impressing the world, they had no substance of their own. These days she sent them on their way with a smile, an apology, and the assurance they’d have better luck without her computer’s interference. “Is that considered an opening line in a place like this?” she asked Aaron.
He raised his brows in question.
“Hi. I’m Katy, and I own a priceless Picasso. Is that how the pick-up works here?”
He chuckled—a casual, throaty sound that sent pleasant tingles across her skin in a way she tried to ignore. “Not in the way you’re thinking,” he said. “It’s a hustle.”
“Like... guess which cup the ball is under?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice. He was comparing high-end art to street tricks.
“Exactly like that that, but with a more impressive payout. She finds her way into a gathering like this, usually with a friend to help nudge the crowd, and convinces people she owns said priceless Picasso but has no idea how much it’s worth. They believe they underbid her. To them, it’s worth twenty million dollars, and they offer her five or ten grand. When they go to pick up the art, she either hands them one of fifty convincing replicas, or more likely, she takes their money and runs.”
“That’s horrible.” She couldn’t believe the casual way he said it. “And you let her walk away?”
“She didn’t do it yet. And any of those men she was talking to thought they were scamming her, too.”
The concept left a bad taste in her mouth. “But still...”
“You think I should call the police? She hasn’t done anything wrong this evening.” He looked at Cynthia like she was the one not making sense.
She definitely preferred numbers. It was time to wrap this up. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“Wait. You’re right. It is disturbing. On both their parts.”
She should keep walking. So why was she facing him? “You’re only saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear.”
“I’m saying it because I stopped her from doing it. Doesn’t matter if everyone in that group was trying to screw everyone else over, it still wasn’t right.” He quirked his mouth in a smile he probably thought was seductive. It was kind of cute. “If I was saying what I thought you wanted to hear, I’d feed you a line about being one of the owners of this building, ask if you wanted the grand tour, and watch you get flustered again.”
“Is giving me a tour of the building a euphemism for trying to talk me out of my dress?” She was making a bit of a leap in logic, that his hitting on her was meant to lead to more. She was bothered that part of her liked his line, though. The notion of being talked out of her dress by this gentleman who knew exactly how to flatter her was more tempting than she wanted.
“You’re assuming a lot. What makes you think I don’t have a date?” he asked.
She raised her brows in disbelief. “You’re here with me. I’m your girlfriend. Isn’t that what you told Katy?” Earning her living hooking people up had taught her a lot of important lessons, number one being that a successful Evening One didn’t have to lead to an Evening Two, as long as everyone was on the same page.
“In that case, I don’t have to use euphemisms to get you to join me upstairs. You already know how incredible I am, and you’re curious to see what we get up to next. You’re wondering if we can top how much fun we had at that last place.” His smile shifted to something almost challenging.
“Is that what I’m wondering? Considering I struggle to remember the last place... Oh wait—the back room of that place in Chinatown?”
“I love that place. Best dumplings. Do they have a back room?”
This was more fun than she expected. He didn’t flinch, and he had a counter at each roadblock. “If neither one of us remembers the back room, it won’t be a hard night to top.” Despite the derision in her words, she hoped he kept playing along, rather than getting offended.
“We can’t have completely forgettable. Let me make it up to you. That was the pickup line, if you’re keeping track.”
“I need to start, if you’re going to show me a night I’ll remember forever.”
His frown caught her off guard. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m your type.”
He was right, but now seemed like an odd time to point it out. She couldn’t hide her curiosity. “What is my type?” According to the program she used to match clients, no one she’d met came close. Not that she would date a client—talk about unethical—but she kept her name in the database for strictly educational purposes.
“Intelligent,” he said.
“And that’s not you?”
He shook his head. “You don’t just want someone who keeps you on your toes with his wit. You want someone who knows the difference between”—he studied her again, this time keeping his attention on her face—“tabs and spaces.”
Tabs. Always tabs. “They’re two different keys on a keyboard. Mystery solved. I didn’t realize you were offering anything long term enough for that to matter.” Every time she opened her mouth, she got sucked further into this ridiculous but tantalizing conversation. All she had to do was stop talking and walk away, but no. Something propelled her to say new things.
“I’m not. Does that mean your cr
iteria for letting a random stranger make you moan are different?”
“After that night in Chinatown, my criteria are higher than they used to be.” She smiled, to let him know she was still teasing.
“I like it.” He dipped his head, and she caught the faint scent of musk. He smelled good too. It wasn’t fair. “If you’re considering saying yes”—his warm breath caressed his skin, and his voice was low—“let’s pretend I already talked you into it. There’s an office on the fourth floor that’s staged for rental, and I’m curious about whether the couch is good for anything besides sitting on.”
And there was the arrogance she was looking for. The assumption the conversation would lead to sex. It should bother her more than it did. “Why would I say yes?”
“Because you think there’s nothing to me but what’s on the surface, and the curious bits of you are begging for proof that I’m all talk.”
He was perceptive. That probably made a lot of things easier for him. She wouldn’t be one of them, despite enjoying the conversation. “In other words, you think I’ll go upstairs with you in hopes of being disappointed?”
“I do. And you’ve set your expectations pretty high.”
“You make me sound cynical.” Which she was, but it was jarring for someone else to point it out.
“Not at all. Just realistic.”
It was time to wrap this up. “Disappoint me before we make it upstairs, and it’ll save us both time.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
“If I have to tell you, it’s not your idea, is it?” She had no clue what the challenge would get her. Being unable to second-guess him was exhilarating.
He rested one hand on her hip, thumb tracing tiny circles, and cupped her cheek with the other. When he locked his gaze on hers, her breath jammed in her chest. Captivating. He dipped his head, then brushed his lips over hers. The barely-there touch raced through every inch of her, drawing her senses to life.
He stepped back, challenging smirk returning, and cool air mingled with disappointment to take his place. “I’m not interested in talking anyone into an evening they don’t want.” He grasped her fingers and kissed the tips before releasing her. “Enjoy the rest of the exhibit, my temptation.”
She leaned against a nearby wall with a soft oof as soon as he was out of sight. What the hell was that?
The story continues in Chapter Two
Also by Allyson Lindt
3d20
Roll Against Trust
Roll Against Regret
Roll Against Discovery
3d20 Box Set (Books 1-3)
Game for Cookies
Seduction Games
Control Games
Love Hack
Breaching His Defenses
Sheltering His Desire
Securing Her Surrender
Love Hack Box Set
The Nerd Love Equation
The Nerd and The Billionaire
The Nerds and The Socialite
The Nerd and The Auctioneer
The Nerds and the CEO (Coming Soon)
The Nerds and the Matchmaker (Coming Soon)
Ubiquity
Uriel's Descent
Uriel's Betrayal
Version 2.0
Denial of Interest
Conflict of Interest
Standalone
Paranormal and Loving it!
Toeing the Line
Hard Flip (Coming Soon)
Watch for more at Allyson Lindt’s site.
About the Author
Allyson Lindt is a full-time geek and a fuller-time contemporary romance author. She likes her stories with sweet geekiness and heavy spice, because cubicle dwellers need love too. She loves a sexy happily-ever-after and helping deserving cubicle dwellers find their futures together.
Read more at Allyson Lindt’s site.
The Nerds and the CEO (The Nerd Love Equation, #5) Page 23