by Sierra Rose
“I know I shouldn’t be going out with him. But I couldn’t resist. Just one look and I couldn’t say no. It was definitely fun. We went to a ball game and had peanuts and rootbeer, and then we left there and went to play squash.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“You have no idea. He bought me pink gym clothes, told me I was playing squash wrong, and then he kissed me.”
“You kissed him? Why would you do that?”
“Did you SEE HIM? He’s hot, Pax. And all those damn muscles! That’s why. And he’s an amazing kisser. I should’ve known he would be, but he’s so arrogant I kind of figured he was all talk.”
“I take it he isn’t all talk,” Paxtyn said sarcastically.
“Not at all. He really put his mouth where his—mouth is,” Paige laughed.
“Be careful, honey. That’s all I’m saying. A man like that, who has power over your professional life, doesn’t belong in your bed.”
“What if I want him there?” she blurted out, “What if I think one night with him would do me a world of good?”
“All a night with that guy is going to do is leave you wanting more. Trust me on this, he’s dangerous for you. You’re halfway in love with him as it is. Your eyes are glazed like you’re high. Don’t get involved with him. You seriously look like a dieter who just ate a dozen donuts.”
“What? What does that even mean?”
“Like you’re glutted and defensive and want more already.”
“Okay, so that’s pretty accurate,” Paige sighed, “I hurt my foot yanking my hand back from his arm. He very innocently offered me his arm, I took it, I panicked, and I fell over trying to get away from him. It was like a bad cartoon. The only thing that would’ve been worse is if I’d landed on my face and knocked out my teeth. So I can pretty much guarantee he isn’t attracted to me after that, if it makes you feel any better.”
“It doesn’t, although I am glad to hear you had the sense to get your hands off him. I really think you’re going down a bad road here.”
“You’re a total buzzkill,” Paige said teasingly, “Now let me put my peas on my foot and go over how badly I embarrassed myself a few hundred times.”
“Do you promise you won’t sleep with him?”
“I promise I won’t sleep with him,” she said with a reluctant sigh.
In the morning, her foot was fine. She wore flats to work—the gorgeous pink flats he’d given her. They felt sexy on her feet, which didn’t make a lot of sense, but it was true all the same. He texted her midday, Tomorrow night, 5:30, you and me. No hijinks, no funny business. She grinned, read and reread the text fondly. She felt her pulse speed up at the thought of tomorrow night. Felt warmth flood her body as she remembered his hands on her jaw, the heat of his breath when he’d leaned in and said, “No fucking, right?” She’d wanted his tongue in her mouth then so much that she thought she’d faint from the hard twist of desire. She felt empty right now, wanting him so much.
What if she slept with him tomorrow night? What if she just indulged, just once, and didn’t tell her sister? Would it change everything, make everything worse? Or would it scratch that itch she hadn’t known she had? Because something about Luke Conners made her want to throw caution to the wind, spread her legs for him and never look back.
Paige went home from work, made some green Thai soup for Paxtyn who seemed to like cilantro despite the fact it tasted like soap. She took a long shower and shaved everything meticulously. Not that Luke would be touching her bare legs or anything else, but just in case. She did have a date, and women always shaved before a date—it was good manners. Besides, if she decided to wear a dress, she wanted to be able to go without tights. She was totally planning on a short black dress, the knit one with the scoop neck that she’d bought on sale and never worn—it was tight and sleek and at least an inch shorter than was appropriate. She didn’t mind showing some leg, and she liked the idea of Luke’s eyes traveling up her legs to where her thighs disappeared under the short black hem.
She laid out her only matching set—a lacy uplift bra in pale pink and matching panties. She didn’t intend to let him see them, of course, it was just to make herself feel fancy and feminine. It was, after all, their second and final date. She didn’t have any intention of giving in and marrying him, but she could have some fun and really give herself a night to remember. She planned to kiss him goodnight. It was the one thing she’d promised herself—this one frivolous night and one passionate, heart-stopping kiss. She deserved this, something luscious and indulgent to think about when she was lonely, when she was scared and overwhelmed by life.
Paxtyn came in to talk to her before going to bed. Paige was already stretched out on the couch in her penguin pajamas.
“Are you going out with him tomorrow night?”
“Yeah,” Paige said, trying not to sound defensive.
“Be careful, okay? Don’t let him break your heart. I think you’re farther gone than you think.”
“Pax, I thought you’d be the first one to tell me to seize the day,” Paige remonstrated with her sister.
“You know, I’ve done a lot of thinking since I’ve had cancer. About things I did and didn’t do. The thing is, it’s not like I’ve sat in chemo and wished I had more casual sex. I have never once thought I should have hooked up more or been less picky. I don’t want you throwing yourself away on this guy just because I’m sick and you think that means you should live life to the fullest or something. I’m not going to be your excuse to sleep with your boss.”
“It’s not about you,” Paige said, “It’s about me, about spending time with someone I like. Someone who’s an amazing kisser and seems to like me, too. It’s not a bad thing. It’s surprisingly fun and addicting.”
“I don’t want you getting—“
“My heart broken, I know. I won’t. Or if I do, it’s my heart. I’ll decide what to do with it.”
“Okay. I just worry about you.”
“I know you do, and I love you for it,” Paige said sincerely. “But I’m not going to let it stop me from going out with him one more time. Last date, I swear.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it, Miss Lacy Panties.”
“Ugh, I keep forgetting you see the clothes I lay out for tomorrow.”
“It’s because you gave me your bedroom. If you’d let me have the couch, you could keep your sex panties a secret from me,” Paxtyn laughed.
“When you’re in remission, and you write a book about your battle against cancer, I fully expect to read that seeing my sex panties was easily the most traumatic part of your harrowing journey,” Paige said with a laugh.
“It’s a possibility. Now go put your date outfit somewhere I can’t see it. I’ll have nightmares with those pink lacies staring at me all night.”
“You’re nuts,” Paige said with an eyeroll, but she went in the bedroom and retrieved the offending bra and panty set, stowing it in the linen cabinet in the bathroom, “I’ll put it on after my shower. I’ll yell from the door, so you can cover your eyes. I wouldn’t want your corneas burned out by the sight of me in underwear.”
“Lacy underwear. Designed to seduce.”
“They were on clearance at Victoria’s Secret. I’m pretty sure that once they put it in the clearance bin, they’ve been stripped of all seductive powers.”
“Do they remove the sexiness when they put a sale tag on?” Paxtyn asked dubiously.
“I think there’s a clerk that has that job. Make sure all the magical powers are removed from the lingerie before it goes in the plastic bin marked size medium,” Paige said.
“This is not the smartest thing you’ve ever done. I’m serious.”
“I know you worry about me, and it’s really sweet. I only agreed to go out with him twice. Nothing is going to happen that I don’t want. I’m a big girl, sissy.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. That you want something to happen. I know you. I know how sweet and loyal you are, and I don’t th
ink he’s the kind of guy who will appreciate that. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Thanks. I think. Unless that was one of those backhanded compliments that means he’s way out of my league and I’m setting myself up for a disappointment. Because I know he’s attracted to me. Also, how on earth could you decide all that about him in the four seconds he was in our apartment?”
“Easy. He only stayed about four seconds. If he was into you, he would have hung around, fussed over your leg, tried to stay for dinner. He didn’t. He just bolted out of here.”
“Maybe he was uncomfortable with my sister sniffing around like he was a felon,” Paige suggested.
“I did not sniff him. Not even once. And if I had, he’s in my home, and I have every right to sniff the guests if that’s my thing. Which it isn’t. I didn’t demand to know what his intentions are. I didn’t do anything to run him off. He left on his own.”
“I guess you’re right about him not staying around, but he did call to check on me. And he sent flowers to my desk today that said, ‘get well soon.’”
“You mean his secretary sent flowers. Men like that don’t do their own ordering. They have women to take care of menial details,” Paxtyn said derisively.
“Gina is his secretary. I’ll ask her if it makes you feel better.”
“It’s not going to make me feel better. The only thing that will, apart from a sudden and low-cost cure for cancer, is you canceling the date and coming to your senses.”
“You have a better shot at the cure,” Paige teased, “I’m going out to have some fun. I’m not going to do anything stupid or reckless. I swear. But don’t go trying to set a curfew for me.”
“You’d stay out later just to spite,” Paxtyn sighed.
“You know me well. Now go to bed. You have bloodwork early in the morning.”
“Don’t remind me. I swear, if I get better, I’m never getting up that early again unless it’s to catch a flight for a fabulous vacation.”
“WHEN. When you get better, not if,” Paige corrected gently.
“Right,” Paxtyn said a little bitterly, “Goodnight.”
She packed her flatiron, makeup, and black dress in the gym bag she seldom used and carried them to work like a giddy secret. Despite her protests about wearing jeans and a cute top, she was excited to take the black dress out and show it a good time. She wore trousers and a blouse to work, hair pulled back—but she felt like Superman, like she had a dangerous secret beneath her clothes, although instead of superpowers and a leotard, she had the bra and panty set. She couldn’t help but smile.
She kept her phone on silent and tucked it in her drawer once she got word from Paxtyn that the blood draw had gone okay, and she was back home safely. Paige worked busily, never texting Luke, never even popping up to his floor to say hello to Gina. She was perfectly focused and productive, but beneath her skin buzzed the anticipation for tonight. She felt fizzy, effervescent at the prospect of an entire evening with Luke Conners.
Paige worked through lunch, skipped the meal just so she could make certain all her work was finished in time for a five o’clock exit. She shut down her computer station promptly at five and took her gym bag to the ladies’ room.
She had wondered about the propriety of dodging up to the executive floor to use the private bathroom, so no one on her level saw her changing for a date with the CEO, but she reasoned that no one other than Gina knew who her date was with tonight. She was being paranoid, she decided, and if anyone asked, she could say she was going out with a guy from accounting. No one would ask further questions about a guy from accounting—the men in accounting were mostly of the balding with wire-rimmed glasses variety, pleasant but largely similar.
Armed with her clever lie, she wriggled into the black dress, tugged down on the hem. The dress was off the shoulder, so she tucked her bra straps down into the sleeves, realizing she hadn’t thought to bring a strapless bra to change into. She stepped into stilettos, plugged in her flatiron and put on a thick sweep of black eyeliner. In fifteen minutes, more or less, she was ready. She messaged Luke that she’d meet him in the lobby unless he wanted to leave separately.
“I’m sending a car for you,” he barked into the phone when she answered.
“I’m at the office. It’s not like I could get home and change in less than thirty minutes.”
“You got dressed here?”
“Yes. In the bathroom.”
“That’s okay. I’ll have my car pick you up two blocks over at that little diner...in about five minutes.”
“I get it. We have to be discreet.”
“No use stirring the pot.”
“I’ll make sure the coast is clear before I wave you down.”
“See you soon.”
“Can’t wait.”
She scanned her reflection in the mirror. She liked what she saw, although the daring short dress was a little bit daringly shorter than she’d remembered from when she bought it months before. She’d been excited to show off some leg, but not perhaps all of her leg. The dress hugged her curves. In fact, she could see the line of her lacy panties. But barely. But she was not about to take them off. That wasn’t happening. For one thing, the dress was short enough she’d flash a Britney Spears getting out of the car. For the other thing, those panties were, in her mind, the only thing between her and a backseat hookup with the boss. The panties had to stay in place. It was too risky to remove that last barrier. So visible panty line was the winner.
Paige was waiting in his car when he emerged from the building. He had changed from his usual designer suit to a gorgeous deep purple dress shirt open at the collar and a pair of dark jeans. He looked amazing, good enough to eat. The dark purple set off his gorgeous tan, his blue eyes. He would have looked at home leaning on a Maserati in an ad for designer sunglasses in Vogue, is what she thought. He looked that good. She was disappointed that he’d see her sitting down, that the full effect of dress, heels and long legs would be wasted, but she scooted over to let him in any way.
“You said you were wearing jeans and a cute top,” he blurted out. She smiled at his discomfort. Clearly, the dress was working, because his manners and charm had slipped for a second as his gaze traveled up her stems and along her collarbone.
“I had this dress I never wear and thought I might take it for a spin tonight. I hope you’re not disappointed,” she lowered her voice to a purr and watched him swallow hard.
“Not—not at all,” he said, obviously discomfited by her appearance, by her outright flirtation.
“Will I be overdressed for where we’re going?” she said.
“Overdressed would imply you had on too much clothing, so I don’t think that could be said about you and your little dress.”
“Overdressed meaning too fancy or dressed up,” she smirked.
“You might cause a stir, but I think people would stare no matter where we went tonight,” he looked at her appraisingly as he spoke.
“I felt like dressing up,” she admitted, “I wanted to impress you.”
“You did. You have all along,” he said.
Luke covered her hand with his and held it. She closed her eyes tight for a minute, just soaking in what he’d said to her and the warmth of his hand. The fact that, even though it made no sense and clearly meant nothing at all, she felt safe and protected with Luke holding her hand. Obviously, her hand was on the seat between them, and he just needed a place to put his hand. But it felt like it meant something. It felt perfect. So, instead of questioning it or pulling her hand back, she just sat there in the quiet darkness of the back seat and held Luke Conners’ hand like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
Chapter 16
THE CAR SLID THROUGH chic uptown, past restaurants with waiting lists and the kind of clubs that are featured in magazines as hot spots. Away from the glittering nightlife, they pulled up in front of a building lit with neon and blasting music. It looked like a pizza place. She grinned. He was slumming
for her, taking her someplace she’d be comfortable instead of showing off his VIP status to get her into some sold-out show or going backstage at a concert. This was less like a fairy tale, more like a real date to her. She squeezed his hand.
“There’s an arcade,” he said almost shyly.
“What?”
“Did you expect me to take you to the opera like Edward took Vivian?”
“YOU! You’ve been watching Pretty Woman! You know their names!” she accused laughingly.
“Yeah, I watched it the other night while I was going through some emails. It’s still appallingly bad, but I liked the music. It had a pretty good soundtrack.”
“I know! But it’s romantic. You have to admit, when he puts the ice on her face it’s so loving...”
“His friend punched her. For real, we’re giving him credit for getting her ice after he told that loser she was a prostitute? He might as well have hit her himself.”
“No way!” Paige protested, “It was not like that. He had no idea that the lawyer was going to try to get frisky with her. Edward was totally respectful to her and kicked that guy’s ass and fired him. He was a knight in shining armor!”
“You have really got it bad for that old guy. So, I guess the opera would’ve been a better pick.”
“No, I’m not dressed for opera. I wouldn’t know how to act. I’d be nervous. Like, what if you have to get up to go pee? Can you leave and come back like the movies or do they make you wait till intermission or something?”
“Well, here you can go to the restroom whenever you like. I promise,” he said.
“Thanks,” Paige said, following him inside.
It was dim and noisy, crowded with young couples and groups of teenagers. Luke led her to a table and placed the order. Soon Paige was drinking a fizzy rootbeer and taking a giant bite out of some crusty garlic bread. She dunked the crust in marinara sauce and gobbled it up. Luke was smiling at her, watching her eat.