by Cecy Robson
A beast beneath the business. That’s who he is. I lick my lips, knowing I shouldn’t go there and wishing I didn’t want to. Christ, I just met the guy.
Evan hones in on my mouth as I slide my tongue back into my mouth to keep it from lolling. I ignore it, or at least, try. “All right,” I tell him. “I suppose no team is better than rooting for all the wrong ones.” I sigh. “Anything else I should know before I decide to sell you my vehicle?”
“Before you decide?” he asks, amused.
“It may not look it, but I’ve got morals,” I assure him.
“In that case, I suppose you should know I’ve spent the better part of my life in London.”
“Just London?” I ask. I picked up on the British for sure, but there’s something else there.
He laughs. “I was born here, Villanova to be exact. But I attended boarding schools in Switzerland and Scotland before ultimately graduating in England.”
I frown, sure I misheard him. “You went to boarding school all over Europe?”
Traces of sadness reflect along his irises, but as quickly as the emotion appears, it fades away. “That’s right.”
“People still do that?”
“Study abroad?” he questions.
I meant send their kids so far away. And while that’s not what I say, the underlying suggestion is there regardless of how I respond. “There are a lot of great schools here in the U.S.” I wink, to lighten the mood. “But then again, you are un-American.”
He returns my smile though it lacks the luster that was there before. I was right. There’s a lot beneath those layers . . . like maybe his share of heartbreak.
“Tell me something about yourself,” he says.
“What you see is what you get,” I answer. “I like hot cars, I sell them, love sports and good food.”
“Tell me something else.”
“Why?” I ask, ignoring the fact that I already know.
He folds his arms. “I want to know more about you.”
Yeah. That was it. My finger slides along my iPad screen. He seems like a nice guy and while I don’t think it’d hurt to tell him a little more about me, I thought the same damn thing about Bryant. So I give him what I think is harmless enough. “I attended Saint Therese Catholic School for thirteen years where I learned valuable life lessons like the Apostle’s Creed, how to hotwire a car from Valentina Sigliani, and that if I didn’t go to confession I was going to hell.”
“You attend confession?”
“No, which is why I’m going to hell.”
Laughs aren’t supposed to be erotic or even slightly stimulating. But on Evan, God damn it, everything is. Not a good thing seeing as trash-talking and swearing aside, I pride myself on being professional. “So have you ever been to a ball game?” I ask as his humor dwindles. “Any ball game?” He shakes his head, his stare never leaving mine. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”
It’s a rhetorical question. But I swear to God, his eyes smoke hot enough to sizzle my panties and singe his initials into the silk. I think he catches himself, lowering his gaze, his skin flushing slightly. His somewhat shy-like response should give me a giggle and slap away all the naughty, but very nice thoughts are dancing through my head. Except I don’t laugh and I sure as anything don’t tame those wicked visuals. Not when his stare lifts and all I see is a pent up beast waiting to smash through that cage of pinstripes he’s trapped in.
The cuteness I first noticed about him is long gone. His sex appeal, on the other hand, remains front and center. In fact, one might say he’s waving that sex appeal like a flag while standing naked on the Rock of Gibraltar.
“What are you thinking?” I ask. Stupid question. But it beats asking if he wants to head back to my place so I can eat that cheesesteak off his bare chest.
“That out of all the dealerships, I’m glad I walked into yours.” He cocks his head to gauge my reaction, or maybe because he can hear my lady parts pounding like native drums following a long and lonely winter.
“I’m glad you did, too,” I say before I can stop myself.
He doesn’t respond, but it looks like he wants to. Sal beats him to it, yelling from the bar where he’s wiping down a beer mug with a rag. “Hey, Wren!” he calls. “When you going to get married and start popping out some babies? What are you? Twenty-eight now? You’re running out of time and eggs there, woman.”
Fighters need to be saved by the bell. I needed to be saved by Sal before me and Evan did something we’d both regret.
Seeing how this isn’t the first time Sal has busted on me and my ovaries, I barely blink. “When I’m good and ready, Sal. Be grateful Mina married your sorry ass before it started sagging and dragging across the floor.”
“Only ‘cause I lost a bet,” Mina mutters, stopping to my right. “You ready to order, Wrennie?”
She and Ma are the only people who call me that. “I’ll have the usual,” I tell her, turning to face her when I hand her my menu.
Mina tucks it against her side. It’s barely eleven and the lunch crowd is only now shuffling in, but already her curly blonde-ish hair is going in every direction. She wipes her hand on her black apron and motions to Evan. “How ‘bout your date?”
“He’s not my date,” I correct, knowing she’s fishing for details. “He’s a client.”
“Uh, huh,” she says.
Mina is one of my mother’s oldest friends, and because of it Ma’s going to be getting a call down in Florida the second Mina gets her hands on a phone. She’s well into her fifties like Ma, but not blind to a fine-looking man when she sees one.
You might say Evan is a fine-looking man.
You might even say he has a nice ass. ‘Cause hell, I’m not blind either and yeah, I noticed when he shrugged out of his coat and jacket.
Evan doesn’t notice the attention he’s getting from Mina or me, too busy darting his eyes across the menu. “I apologize, but I’m afraid I haven’t yet decided.”
“Want me to order for you?” I offer, knowing there’s only one Mina, and more people sure to walk in. He frowns slightly. His eyebrows are really dark like his hair, drawing my attention back to his eyes. “Come on, you trust me don’t you?”
“Of course. How can I not?” He passes his menu to Mina. “Thank you, miss,” he tells her politely.
“Miss?” she asks, adjusting the menus together as she turns to me, scowling. “Is he screwing with me?”
I shift away from Evan before she can pick up on how much he’s affecting me, in all the ways his type should not be affecting me. As it is, I’m already going to hear an earful from Ma. “No. He’s just not from around here, Mina.”
“I can see that,” she says, like maybe it’s a good thing.
“Double my order please,” I tell her, ignoring the way she seems to wait for me spill details that aren’t coming.
She sighs. “Fine. But I betcha your ma’s gonna tell me.”
“I have no doubt, Mina.” I keep my eyes on her as she makes her way to the bar, trying not to choke on my water when Sal smacks her in the ass when she passes. Mina returns his show of affection by slapping him upside the head with the menus. If I have any shot at a decent future with a man, that’s what I want: a hard-working guy who can’t keep his hands off me, no matter how big my ass gets.
“What’s the usual?” Evan asks.
I unfold the paper napkin wrapped around the utensils and place it on my lap, ignoring my growing desire to tug him forward by that expensive tie and stamp my mouth on his. “Cheesesteak with mushrooms, peppers, a side of chips, and an extra-large pineapple milkshake to wash it all down.”
His eyebrows raise almost to his hairline. “Perhaps it’s a fgood thing I didn’t have breakfast.”
“You’ll thank me for it later,” I offer, wishing I didn’t want to nibble on those lips. He rests his forearms across the checkerboard red and white plastic tablecloth. I want to warn him that the sleeves of the crisp white shirt he’s wearing, m
ight not stay so crispy white against this table. But right now, I’m so into him and his easy demeanor, it’s hard to speak, and maybe hard to think straight, too.
“Is a pineapple milkshake another Philadelphia delicacy I’ve deprived myself of?” he asks.
“No, it’s an O’Brien thing.” I beat back another wide grin. Christ, I can’t remember the last time I’ve shown a stranger this many teeth. “Sal’s started out as a hole-in-the-wall diner a few blocks from where I grew up. We didn’t have a lot back then. I think I can count on one hand all the times we went out to eat as a family. But one thing Ma always did at the end of the month, after making sure the bills were paid, was take us out for milkshakes at Sal’s. Out of every flavor, the one we all could agree on was vanilla with chunks of pineapple. It became our thing, you know?”
“It sounds like a much cherished memory from your youth,” he says, his features softening along with his voice.
“It is,” I agree, forcing myself to look at my iPad. I tap the screen and hit my sales app. “Let’s get some of this paperwork out of the way,” I add, trying to keep my tone relaxed. “Don’t want to keep you away from the little woman longer than necessary.”
My fingers scroll down to the customizer and accessories tabs, since Evan made it clear he wants all the toys to go with his new ride. I don’t have to glance up to know my sudden switch into business mode probably took him aback. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but it’s too easy to be with him, maybe too easy to laugh with him, too.
Evan . . . hell, he’s not what I need, and it’s not just because of Bryant the Asshole’s call earlier. Me and white collar men don’t mix. They tend to be uptight and boring. Too PC for my mouth, attitude, and patience. And while I’ve dated some who come across nice like him, experience has taught me that niceness doesn’t last and morphs to superiority real fast.
My guess is he senses that wall I shot up. He grows quiet, allowing me to run through the details so I can place the order. I tell myself it’s a good thing I’m doing. Not that I feel good about doing it. He was trying to be nice. But I’m trying to be professional. And professionals ignore hot guys they want to straddle all the time.
It’s only when Mina returns with our order and he takes his first bite that everything changes. His eyes lower, savoring all that salty, juicy goodness pouring into his mouth.
I finish off my bite and take a sip of my shake. “You like it?”
He takes his time, swallowing carefully before he answers. “It’s incredible. Will they deliver?”
I wipe my mouth carefully, thinking Mina would probably make the exception for Evan. “No, but you can always ask.”
We return to our food, but as soon as we both take the next bite, we’re back to eyeing each other and smiling. I reach for my purse on the floor when Mina drops off the bill, but Evan takes it first.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “I told you this was my treat.”
“I can’t allow you to pay,” he says. “You’ve already done enough.”
“What do you mean? You’re the one who dropped over seventy grand on a car.”
He smiles, dimples and all. “I meant by spending time with me I didn’t realize I needed.”
I should argue, snag the bill, crack a joke, something. This was my idea and another thing I do to thank my clients for their business. But what he says hits home.
This time with Evan was different. Easy. So I let him pay, realizing maybe I needed this time, too.
We don’t say much on the way back to the dealership, unless you count tying up the loose ends on his purchase. I walk him out to his Jag and offer him my hand. “It was a pleasure doing business with you. I’ll call you as soon as your new toy is in.”
He takes my hand, curving it along his fingers as he bends forward. “The pleasure was all mine,” he whispers along my knuckles.
His lips graze my skin. It’s barely a kiss. Barely anything, stopping before it can really begin. But it’s enough. Oh, Jesus, is it ever enough.
Ripples of desire surge through me, making me shudder and widening my eyes.
He releases my hand, watching me as I lower it to my side. I think I’m safe, and that maybe I can walk away with nothing more than a good memory of an even better day, despite how my nipples are now pointing to heaven and my Great Aunt Chloe who—God rest her soul—is probably giving me the thumbs up.
“Have dinner with me,” he tells me.
So much for that.
“I don’t really do that,” I say.
“Eat?” he offers. “You could have fooled me with how much we ate at your friend’s restaurant.”
His smile is small, but there, even while mine is notably absent. “I mean I don’t date my clients,” I explain. It’s the truth. But for him, I’m almost willing to break that rule. Almost.
The thing is, I’m pretty screwed in the head right now. The shit with Bryant ended more than a year ago. Never mind. That’s a lie. I dumped his ass more than a year ago. That didn’t stop him from finding me in Atlantic City months later on my way to a club. He seemed to come out of nowhere, acting like he hadn’t taken advantage of me, and pissed when he thought I was meeting another guy.
“You’re nothing but a whore,” he’d told me. “No one’s ever going to fucking love you.”
Holy shit, and didn’t that set me off after what he did to me. I was livid and fought back. It was brutal and ugly, and something I’ll never forget. I thought I moved past it, and that he was finally out of my life. Then today came . . .
“Wren,” Evan continues. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But I enjoyed your company and would like to see you again.”
“I know,” I respond, knowing my feelings toward Bryant are reflecting in my behavior. “It’s just not a good time for me to get to know someone on a personal level. And when it comes to my job, I never want to leave anyone with the wrong impression.” The gunmetal sky is fizzing out in that way it does when snow isn’t far behind. I tilt my head in the direction of the dealership, where the bright lights showcase the building. “I’ve worked hard for the rep that I have and I don’t want anyone thinking my sales are due to providing clients with more than just test drives.”
He nods. “I understand.”
Maybe he does. That doesn’t make telling him “no” any easier.
I dig my hands into to my black leather coat, expecting him to leave in huff, but he doesn’t, reminding me how nice he really is. “Forgive me, but I have to go. Will you call me when my Explorer is in?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you,” he says. When it’s clear there’s nothing else to say he smiles softly. “Goodbye, Wren.”
“Take it easy, Evan.” I punch his arm affectionately and walk back toward the building and through the automated doors. I don’t bother to turn and watch him drive away.
No matter how much I want to.
CHAPTER 4
Evan
Clifton and Anne rush around the long conference table placed near the wall of windows. When I originally set up my office, I envisioned it as the perfect place to work. I could take in the busy streets forty-nine stories below, as well as watch the sun set between the neighboring buildings. But my days have allowed me to enjoy very little, and for too many days the sun has set without me noticing.
Maybe I should regret the days that have passed. But I’ve been so focused on saving my company, regrets are something I can’t afford.
I stop pacing, my attention pausing halfway down the diagnostics report I’m reviewing. “Have Davies and Munro implemented the changes to the capacitor for the new Mechanicus prototype?”
“Yes, Evan,” John replies.
“And?”
John smiles. “The control is far superior.”
“Good.” I make a note on the page. “What about the new micro-camera?”
It’s Scott who answers. “We subbed out the lens as per your instructions. The picture
quality is twenty percent better. Trials will begin in two weeks.”
“One week,” I correct, meeting him in the eye. “Make it happen.”
He looks at John who nods. “All right, Evan. You’ve got it.”
Scott and John rush out, their lab coats flapping behind them in their haste. Clifton and Anne stay put, speaking quietly as they iron out the final details of the presentation. My building is filled with robotics engineers and software specialists, but it’s my marketing and sales team led by Clifton and Anne who will make the world aware of what iCronos has to offer. I’m proud of the progress my company has made in the short time since my arrival, but there’s more to be done before we work our way out of debt.
With the advanced technological breakthroughs we’ve developed here and in London, iCronos will be the global juggernaut the world needs. The first step, and one of the most important, takes place today.
I adjust the glasses I’m wearing. “The CEO of Presbyterian Medical Center is confirmed for this morning, correct?”
Clifton glances up. “Yes, Evan. Originally, it was going to be the Vice President and a few of the chairs.” He sighs, appearing hopeful. “But after your call, the CEO plans to attend. Oh, and the board and CEO of Saint Martin’s will follow after lunch.”
“Good,” I say. I place the folder down and reach for my coffee, taking a sip. It’s already cold. That doesn’t stop my smile when I see the large spinning flakes and remember who I met the last time it snowed.
Wren. Dear God, I can’t stop thinking about her.
She’s not someone I expected to meet, much less interact with on a personal level. A strong, vibrant woman with an underlying softness and sensuality who continues to fascinate me. I’d like to convince her to give me a chance, not that I’m certain how.
“It’s not a good time for me to get to know someone,” she’d said. If I’m being honest, it’s possibly the worst time for me as well. But I can’t ignore what I feel, and I’m thoroughly gobsmacked by this woman.