The Wrong/Right Man

by Aurora Rose Reynolds

  “You wear glasses?” he asks, ignoring my question, and I push my blue light glasses up the bridge of my nose then touch my hair, which is piled on top of my head in a messy bun.

  I’m sure I look like a wreck, but I honestly didn’t think I’d see him. My plan if he did show up tonight was to ignore him until he went away. So much for that.

  I take off my glasses and toss them to the top of the coffee table then cross my arms over my chest. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I told you I’d be here.”

  “I didn’t ask you why you’re here. I asked you how you got into my place without a key, Braxton,” I snap, and he sighs, taking a seat on the couch.

  “If I tell you the truth, are you going to freak out?”

  “Probably.” I tap my foot, waiting for him to come clean.

  “I linked your digital information with mine.”

  My nose scrunches. “And what does that mean?”

  “It means all the information you have on your phone is now linked with mine, including the app to get into your apartment.”

  I fall to the couch, my ass on the edge of the seat, and rub my forehead. “I slept with an insane person.”

  “Dakota.” His hand lands on my shoulder, and I pull away from his touch and turn on him.

  “God, you’re crazy.” I hold up my hand when it looks like he’s going to speak. “You need to go.”

  “Dakota.”

  “Why does everything with you have to be so over the top? Why can’t you just be a normal guy?” I shake my head. “Who breaks into someone’s apartment?”

  “I didn’t break in.”

  “No, you just used my information—information I didn’t even give to you—to let yourself in.” I fall back against the couch and groan. “I can’t believe that when I met you, I thought you might be the perfect man. God, I suck at reading men.”

  “If I knocked on your door tonight, would you have answered?”

  “Probably not.” I turn my head toward him. “But it would have been my choice if I did. Just like it would have been my choice to stand up the guy I was supposed to go out with. That’s the thing, Braxton; you can’t just make decisions for people. You can’t make decisions for me, just because you want to get your way.”

  “I like getting my way.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I shake my head then watch him lean forward and pick up Kathy’s notes from the coffee table.

  “What’s this?”

  “I would say none of your business, but since it’s your company, I can’t, and I want to just let you know that’s also really annoying.”

  He smiles, and I hate that my heart beats a little harder seeing it. God he really has put some kind of spell on me. Even as annoyed as I am by his highhandedness and the fact that he’s a damn liar, I still can’t be really mad at him.

  “What’s that look?”

  “Nothing.” I sigh, getting up from the couch, taking the red-stained rag from him, and carrying it toward the kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”

  “Are you inviting me to stay?”

  “If I ask you to leave again, are you going to listen to me and go?” He smirks, and I mutter, “I didn’t think so.” I hear him chuckle as I flip the switch on my electric teapot.

  “Explain these notes to me.” He holds up his hand holding the notes, before sitting forward so he can click through the talking points I created on my computer.

  I inwardly groan. I don’t want to explain Kathy’s notes or why I’m annoyed with her, especially not to him. I might not like what she wants to do, but she is still my boss and I refuse to go behind her back. “They’re just notes about the show tomorrow.”

  “I see that, Dakota,” he says, sounding frustrated, and I inwardly smile, liking him frustrated.

  ‘Then there is nothing to explain.” I drop a chai spice teabag into my cup then cover it with steaming water a minute later.

  “She doesn’t like what you came up with,” he says as I walk back to the couch. “Why?”

  I shrug, not answering, taking a seat near the arm, as far away from him as I can be.

  “You’re really not going to talk to me about this?”

  “Nope, I’m really not.”

  “So stubborn.”

  “Oh, isn’t that just like the dalmatian calling a leopard spotted?”

  “And a smartass.” He drops the paper in his hand to the coffee table and leans back, making himself comfortable, placing his ankle to his knee and his arm along the back of the couch. I notice then that he’s not in his usual suit but wearing dark slacks and a blue button-down shirt. “How was dinner with your brother?”

  “Good.” I take a sip of tea, and he taps his fingers on the back of the couch when I don’t say more.

  “Talk to me, Dakota.”

  “About what, Braxton?”

  “I don’t fucking care. I just want to hear you talk.”

  “I’m not in the mood to talk. My plans for the night didn’t include a late-night guest. My plans included me having a glass of wine, which is now on the floor, doing some work, and then going to bed.”

  “We can go to bed.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Don’t make me dump this very hot tea over your head. I’m still really pissed at you.”

  “How can I make you less pissed?” he asks, touching my shoulder with the tips of his fingers. Just that small touch makes me shiver and curse myself. “I apologized for lying. What else do you want me to do?”

  “You kind of apologized, and then you stole my information and broke into my apartment,” I remind him. “What would you do if someone did that to you?” I hold up my hand when it looks like he’s going to respond. “And don’t lie. You’d probably lose your mind.”

  “You’re right—I would.”

  “Then don’t you think I have the right to be mad?”

  “You do, but—”

  I cut him off with a groan. “You do know that the word ‘but’ means ‘ignore everything I just said,’ right? You are seriously the most frustrating man I have ever met in my life.”

  “Then we’re on an even playing field, because I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

  “How am I frustrating you? Because I’m not just letting you off the hook? It wasn’t me, Braxton, who got into this relationship under false pretenses then lied and lied some more.”

  “Relationship?” He raises one brow.

  “Don’t even go there,” I hiss. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  “I’d like to be in a relationship with you.”

  “And I’d like to kill you, but I doubt I could get away with it without someone coming to look for you.”

  I watch him laugh then brace when his expression turns serious. “You should know I’m not going to stop pursuing you until you give me another chance.”

  God, he’s relentless. “Are you an only child?”

  “No, I have two sisters and a brother.”

  “That’s surprising.”

  “I’m not some spoiled brat who’s used to getting their way, Dakota. I’m a man who knows what he wants. And when I find something I want, I go after it until it belongs to me.”

  “Again, Braxton, I’m a person, not an object you can own.”

  “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean you can’t belong to me.”

  Lord, his overbearingness should not turn me on, but there is no denying the way his words make me feel.

  “And you have to know that if you belong to me, I’d belong to you as well.”

  “Braxton.”

  “You want me, Dakota. I know you do. You might be trying to push me away, but you don’t actually want me to go.”

  He’s right, isn’t he? I could have done something when he broke in, but I didn’t, and I haven’t done much to make him leave. I like his company; I like the way he looks at me, and even when he’s annoying me, I like being around him. I know I shouldn’t, but that doesn’t change that I do.

&n
bsp; “I need time.”

  “How much time do you need?”

  “I don’t know. Am I going to find out anything else about you that I don’t know?”

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

  “See? That right there is what puts me on edge,” I say, pulling my legs under me on the couch. “Everything you say leaves lots of room for you to come back later and sideswipe me.”

  “How’s that?” He looks genuinely confused.

  “I asked if there is anything else I don’t know about you, and your answer is there’s a lot. Lots, like what? A wife, a kid… are you running for president or planning to take over the world?”

  “No wife, no kids. If I did have a wife, I wouldn’t cheat on her. I don’t want to be president, and I have no desire to take over the world. You know the big stuff about me. I own IMG, this building, and I’m obsessed with a woman I tricked into going on a date with me.”

  I stare at him, unsure what to say or how to respond. Part of me wants to give in and agree to see him, but I need time to figure out if he can be trusted. I still feel betrayed by him. He didn’t just lie; he kept things from me and did it with ease. And if he did it once, he could do it again, and if that happened, it would be my fault. Like the old saying goes—fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

  “I’ll give you time, Dakota, but you’re not going to figure out if you can trust me unless you actually give me a chance to prove to you that you can.”

  “Can you read my mind?” I ask, honestly a little freaked he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  “No, but I’m beginning to understand the thing holding you back isn’t that you don’t want to spend time with me; it’s that you don’t trust me.” He reaches out, touching my cheek. “Am I right?”

  “Yeah.”

  His expression softens. “How about we take things slow?”

  “What exactly do you mean by that?” Knowing him, his version of slow and mine are probably completely different.

  “We spend time together, but nothing more until you’re ready for that.”

  “Are we talking about sex?” Well that will be a challenge, maybe not for him but for me. I’m not sure I have enough willpower to spend time with him and not want what I know he’s capable of making me feel.

  “As much as it’s going to kill me to keep my hands off you, yeah, I mean sex.” His eyes darken, and I squirm as they travel over my face. “But…”

  “Here we go.” I roll my eyes while smiling.

  “But,” he repeats, capturing my chin between his thumb and index finger then growls, “if you tempt me and start playing with fire, all bets are off.”

  My toes curl and my belly melts. “I’d never do that.”

  “Liar.”

  I am lying. Part of me wants to see how far I can push him before he cracks and just how hot it will be when he does.

  “I also want you to join me for lunch with my parents this weekend.”

  Wait… what? “What?” My voice sounds shrill, even to my own ears. “How did we go from talking about me pushing you to a point where you can’t control yourself to you telling me that you want me to meet your parents?”

  Oh my God, here we go—right back on the crazy train.

  “No way.”

  “No way?” He frowns, and I shake my head franticly.

  “I can’t meet your parents. I…. No way.”

  “Why not?”

  “Um, I don’t know. Maybe…” I hold up my hand and one finger. “Because you’re my boss.” I hold up another finger. “Because your parents.” I hold up the rest of my fingers then let my hand drop to my lap. “Lots of reasons.” His lips start to twitch, and I scowl at him when he starts to laugh. “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because you’re adorable when you’re nervous, and this is the first time I’ve seen you really nervous about anything.”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  “Then what do you call it?”

  “A normal reaction to someone you had a one-night stand with asking you to meet their parents.”

  “We didn’t have a one-night stand.”

  “What?” I ask, caught off guard by the amount of anger in his tone and the way his fist clenches.

  “We didn’t have a fucking one-night stand.”

  “We did.”

  “We did fucking not.”

  “Why are you so pissed about this?”

  “A one-night stand is someone you never see again, Dakota, the complete fucking opposite of what this is.”

  “Okay,” I give in, because I can see how angry the topic is making him. “I’m just saying I don’t think it’s wise at this point in time for me to meet your parents.”

  “And I’m saying it is.” He rips his hand through his hair.

  “Can I think about it?” I bite my lower lip and fight the urge to laugh. I know this isn’t funny, but at the same time his frustration is kind of adorable. He’s so used to always getting his way that when he doesn’t, he doesn’t know how to react or act.

  “Why does it look like you want to laugh?”

  “Umm… because I do.” I pat his hand still resting on the back of the couch. “You’re so used to getting your way with everything that you don’t know how to respond when you don’t, and it’s kind of funny.”

  “Don’t piss me off, Dakota.” He captures my wrist then pulls me toward him so we’re face-to-face. “All that does is make me want to fuck you.”

  Damn, I want that. My eyes drop to his mouth. Maybe I should suggest we alter his rule just a tiny bit to involve orgasms.

  “We could—”

  “No,” he cuts me off before I can say more and touches his lips to my forehead before pushing me back. “Even if this slow bullshit kills me, I’m going to give it to you.”

  Now why does that make me feel all warm and gooey inside?

  “Tomorrow, dinner at my place. I’ll cook for you and we’ll talk.” He stands like he’s going to leave, and I want to ask him not to go but somehow manage not to.

  “What floor do you live on?” I ask, not even pretending I’m not going to have dinner with him. Again, I might be an idiot, but I do like this man, even if he does make me insane and frustrates me to no end.

  “What floor do you think I live on?”

  “Yeah, that was a stupid question.” I roll my eyes.

  He smiles then leans over me to touch his hand to my cheek. “And that watch I gave you works both ways, so you can use it to get up to my place and let yourself in.”

  “That’s a lot of trust. How do you know I’m not going to come up and steal all your silver?”

  “I don’t own any silver, and anything you see that you want, you can have, except the art my mom painted. She’d lose her mind if she came over and didn’t see it where she hung it.”

  “That’s sweet,” I say while his thumb rubs across my cheek.

  “She can’t paint to save her life, but she’s convinced it’s good. I guess we all do what’s necessary to keep the people in our lives happy.”

  “That’s even sweeter,” I reply, and he smiles slightly then bends at the waist. I hold my breath as he brushes his lips across mine, and when he pulls back, my lashes flutter open.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I’ll be out of the office all day or I’d say we could have lunch.”

  “I think it’s better if we keep things on the low,” I tell him, covering his hand with mine and hoping he doesn’t get mad. “I really don’t want people to get the wrong impression, especially since I just started.”

  He drags in a breath through his nose and nods once. “I can give you that for now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything.” He lets me go and heads for the door. “Be good.”

  I have to laugh. “I’m always good.”

  “I doubt that.” He winks then he disappears. After the door closes, I look over my shoulder at the view of the city lit up and smile when
I realize I might be just as insane as Braxton Adams, and I’m okay with that.

  Chapter 7

  DAKOTA

  WITH A BOTTLE of water in hand, I head down to the gym to get in a run before I have to go to work, already dreading the idea of running. I’m not one of those people who enjoys working out, but I am one of those people who likes sweets and wine, so I pay my dues.

  Once I step into the gym, I take off my sweatshirt and put it and my bottle of water into one of the lockers before going to the back of the room where the treadmills are lined up to look out over the city which is still dark. I hop on one near the end of the line, next to an older man who’s walking while watching something on his iPad in front of him. I put in my headphones and turn up my music before starting up the machine, keeping my pace slow while I try to talk myself into going faster. After a couple minutes, I look to my left when someone gets on the machine next to mine—a redhead with a full face of makeup and her hair in a perfect ponytail. She waves, so I wave back wondering why she would waste time with makeup if she’s just going to sweat it off.

  I look at my reflection in the glass before me. Heck, I didn’t even bother brushing my hair this morning; I just piled it on top of my head in a messy bun. I press the up arrow on the machine for it to go faster then notice the redhead looking my way, so I turn toward her again but see she’s actually looking around me. I turn to check on the old guy, and my feet below me falter when I see a shirtless Braxton wearing sweats that should be outlawed while jogging, with his arms pumping and his muscles flexing.

  He looks over at me and winks, making my skin warm. I want to ask him what he’s doing here, but that would be a stupid question. It’s a gym, and he’s obviously working out. I play it cool and focus on keeping my feet under me and eyes straight ahead, and lucky me, I’m still able to watch him in the glass, just like what the redhead at my side is doing. I turn toward her, and she narrows her eyes on me. I guess the whole women’s liberation business only lasts until there’s a hot guy around.

  I see her speed up her machine, so I do the same, and when she presses her arrow up again, I do too, which is stupid, because I might actually die while she doesn’t even seem to be breathing heavy.