He grinned at the memory of the way she’d laughed at the bar the night before. Of the way she’d smile and teased. At the way she’d kissed him back…
Oh yeah, she could feel.
She scowled at him, clearly not appreciating his laughter, but that made it even harder to stop laughing.
“I think it’s important that we clear the air,” she said.
He waved a hand. “By all means. Clear away.”
She took a deep breath. “I enjoyed last night immensely.”
He choked on nothing. Once again his mystery woman had caught him by surprise. If there was one thing Kennedy was not, it was predictable. “Me too.”
She gave a short nod. “Good.” She unclasped her hands and then folded them in her lap again. “I would not be averse to doing that more often.”
He stared. He honestly didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh at her businesslike tone or pump his fist in the air in triumph. Forcing as serious a tone as she was using, he clarified, “Going out for drinks as friends or the, uh…the kissing part?”
Her lips hitched to the side. “Either. Both.”
A warm, fuzzy happiness he’d never felt before had him leaning back in the couch. He had no idea what answer he’d expected but it wasn’t that. Heck, nothing coming out of her mouth was what he’d expected. The whole way over here he’d prepared to hear her make excuses or explain why they couldn’t see each other again outside of work.
But she wanted to see him again. She wanted to kiss him again. He grinned over at her.
“But it can’t last,” she continued.
His grin faded.
“I propose we enjoy each other’s company for the next few months that we’ll be working together, on the understanding that we will part ways amicably at the end of your contract.”
Some of his original excitement dwindled and died. Not that he was looking for something long-term either, but hearing it was another matter. It was almost like rejection, even though he felt the same way.
It seemed she was waiting for a response of some kind. “Understood,” he said, trying for the same businesslike tone and most likely failing.
She gave a short nod.
“But why not?” It came out before he could stop it.
She visibly started at the question. Apparently she’d thought that conversation was over. “Why not what?”
“Why can’t it be long-term?” At her obvious surprise, he hurried on. “Not that I think it should be. I think we both realized last night that we’re not each other’s type.”
She nodded in agreement. Great, they were totally on the same page. So why was he starting to feel royally annoyed with this whole conversation.
“Exactly,” she said.
No. Not exactly. “I get that we might not make sense together as a couple,” he said, unable to let it go. “But why are you so intent on setting some sort of end date on… this?”
She pursed her lips as if debating what to say next. Then she smoothed her neatly ironed black pants and met his gaze. “Because I already have a boyfriend.”
She might as well have punched him in the stomach, at least then his gasping for air wouldn’t look quite so comical.
She had a boyfriend. She had a boyfriend?
His heart took a nosedive into his stomach, which was ludicrous because he didn’t care if she dated other men. But he did care about being the other man. “Crap. Oh freakin’ crap.” He cursed under his breath as he set down the food. “I can’t believe I’m that guy. I’m never that guy.”
“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. He wasn’t nearly as well-versed in glaring as she was. Because he had a heart. Something this cheating, lying, two-timing cheater clearly didn’t have. “You’re the Tin Man.” He should have kept that to himself. He always said stupid things when he was upset, and that might have taken the cake. “The freakin’ Tin Man,” he repeated. Because in for a penny, in for a pound.
She frowned up at him. “Why are you so angry?”
“Seriously?” he asked as he reached for the jacket he’d shucked over an armchair. “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 echoing 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 just in time 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 kissing techniques instead of his software knowledge? 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 can 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 snort
ed in disbelief. “Yeah, okay.”
This seemed to annoy her. She stood up from the couch, 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 butt if she so chose.
He was pretty sure he wouldn’t mind having his butt kicked if it was Kennedy doing the pummeling.
“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 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 a real relationship with me.”
“I don’t,” she said.
“You just informed me in no uncertain terms that you just want to hang out and have fun—no strings attached. 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 was dismissing his future 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.” The moment the words were out, he regretted them. He’d crossed the line. He’d been too harsh. He’d been—
“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. Man, 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 again 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. 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 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.
That hurt. And he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he wanted to know her. That was why he’d invited her out for drinks. It was why he’d invited himself over this morning.
He wanted to get to know her and he was trying to. Didn’t that count for something?
“Maybe we haven’t spent a ton of time together,” he said. “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 window 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 cold and harsh?”
He ignored her because it was clear she had no idea how to take a compliment. Instead he replayed that first night in his mind’s eye and gave her the truth. “Smart.”
She gave a short laugh as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Why? Because I shared a ride with a 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 she was 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.
“That first night I met you I thought you were strikingly beautiful, and funny, and maybe just a little jaded.”
She made a hmph 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. Man, 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 sin.”
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 ough
t 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 appeal. This woman should be told every day just how beautiful she is, how smart and how funny and how talented and how…sweet. How amazingly sweet once you got past the bitter.
And he wanted to get past that. He wanted to be let in. He wanted her to feel safe enough around him that she wasn’t trying to keep her guard up all the time.
But how?
His kiss was rougher than he’d intended, his body trying to show her just how beautiful she was, just how appealing. Her response was more passionate than he could have imagined, her sigh soft and sweet as she leaned into him.
It was Kennedy who pulled away first, moving back with a little frown. “I shouldn’t have…I mean…” She sighed. “We weren’t finished talking.”
His lips hitched up with amusement as he took two steps back. He didn’t want to finish talking. He couldn’t stand to hear any more about perfect Patrick, and he didn’t want to have to convince her that he knew her better than she thought.
That he wanted to get to know her even better.
“So we’re agreed then, right?” she said, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. “This is casual and…and temporary?”
He growled again, involuntarily and inexplicably. Yes, this was temporary. He knew that was all this could ever be. He’d known that from day one. Still, hearing her say it. Hearing her push the issue—it stung. No, it more than stung. It cut like a knife.
But he didn’t want to overanalyze that kneejerk reaction any more than he wanted to continue this conversation. So instead of answering he reached out and tugged her back into his arms so quickly she stumbled into him with a laugh. “Has anyone ever told you you’re pushy?” he teased.
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—”
Once Upon an Ice Queen (Instalove in the City Book 3) Page 10