Adrenaline crash. Baseline. Some dickhead had her perfection almost locked down and he fucked it up? I wouldn’t believe it if she hadn’t said it. Her blue eyes break a little as she admits it. This is going to be way more complicated than I thought. In fact, I feel fucking sick. I want to kill the guy for doing that to her, making her eyes look so sad. In the same breath, I don’t want to care, but I do.
I also want to kick my own ass because what I want to do to her is not much better. I wince a little when she starts walking away. I haven’t even responded. I can’t. What lie would I counter to that blatant honesty? I’m going to have to open up to her completely if I’m going to gain any headway. I should walk the hell away. Turn around now before I fuck her up even more. I can’t though. I’m a lot of things and a quitter isn’t one of them.
“Fooss,” she says to the dog with a smile on her face. “Pick me up at seven,” she hesitates, “I’m sure you know where I live.”
I do. I watch her walk for a little while and I’m so pissed off. At whatever this chick is making me feel. Because for a small, fucking second I think I want Windsor Forbes to consume me right back.
Chapter Six
Windsor
“You’re just going to bang Benji all night anyway. Why do you care if I have a date?” I ask Gretchen. She’s standing in my bedroom wearing black lingerie and brandishing a riding crop. She whips the foot of my sleigh bed. She finally gave Benji the time of day. And night. And every other time they are free and aren’t working. I’m happy for her, if not a touch jealous of all the sexual attention she’s been getting.
“Let’s get this straight. I was okay with you banging Mr. Sexy Badass. Like a one night stand. I did not say you should go on a date with him. You saw him.” She fixes me with her gaze after the crack of the leather ceases. “He is not the dating kind of guy. He’s the guy you do anal with because you plan to leave after you bang him and never see him again. Not exactly the bring home to mom type.” She’s right.
“Good thing I don’t bring anyone home to meet my mom then, huh?” I don’t even visit her. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, I’d be meeting her for the first time again. My inability to lock up a husband really pissed her off. Gretchen looks a little embarrassed, but I don’t blame her for the mom comment. Mom comments are normal for most healthy adults. Unfortunately, I don’t fall into that category.
The doorbell rings saving me from Gretchen’s pity party. I rush out of my room to get the door, slinging my high heels on as I go. “Get out of my room,” I yell over my shoulder. She shoots me a dirty glare and disappears down the hallway. Nervousness hits me in spades.
This is the first date I’ve been on in a long time. I canceled my drink date with Garrett last minute. Like so last minute that he’s still pissed off at me. I tried to make amends, but his butt hurt over the flaky date night combined with the fact that neither of us landed Maverick’s account mixed like oil and water.
I yank open the door expecting to be knocked flat on my ass. “You’re early,” I admonish. I don’t plan to make anything easy for Maverick. Everything in his life seems easy. He wants a date. I’ll give him a date, but that’s it. He thrusts a small bouquet of flowers into my hand.
“For you,” Maverick says, peeking into the condo, gaze darting around like he’s taking inventory.
When his gaze lands on me, he smiles. Dimples. Scruffy jaw. Just a date may prove to be harder than I thought.
I wedge the flowers into a vase on the entryway table that already contains a bouquet from Benji. He looks a little put off at the placement of his gift. “Thanks, they’re pretty. Ready to go?” I glance over my shoulder hoping Mistress Gretchen doesn’t show her face…or weapons.
“You look absolutely stunning tonight, Windsor. I like your dress.”
God, I hate when he uses my name. It does things to every part of my body, mostly everything below my belly button. I smooth the yellow dress down and smile. It took me a while to decide on something that said “I like you and I want to have sex with you, but it’s not going to happen.”
“My dress thanks you,” I say, shutting the door behind us. I hear the tail end of a whip cracking and have to stifle a laugh.
“What was that?” Maverick asks, eyebrows raised, looking back at my door.
I pull his hand to lead him toward the exit. “Just your warning,” I admit. He smells so delicious now that we’re in such close proximity that it makes my mouth water.
“I figured I shouldn’t bring my bike tonight. Although, it would have been the highlight of my week to see you get on it. In that dress,” he whispers in my ear, and goose bumps prickle all over my damn body. He nods to his car. Which is a completely awesome, obviously old, and totally refurbished Chevelle. The paint is a deep blue and the racing stripe that spans the car is a light silver. The car is as hot as the owner.
“Nice car,” I tell him, ignoring the comment about the highlight of his week. Hardly. I bet he’s seen multiple panties this week. His answering smile is, as always, breathtaking. I’m glad nothing covers his eyes tonight. I want to see all of him.
He opens the door for me and I slink down into the buttery leather. Watching him walk in front of the car, I fight the urge to tear off my dress and have my way with him, right here, in my parking lot like a dirty hooker. So I focus on my surroundings instead. His car is pristine on the inside—insanely clean and meticulously kept. I assume when you have a car this nice, it’s what you do. Or pay someone to do it for you is likely the case with Maverick.
I pull down the visor to use the mirror, and I sense his eyes on me, watching my every move. I brush at a loose eyelash and turn to him. “Where are we going? I guess I should have asked earlier, before I dressed up.”
“We’re going to Swordfish. You look perfect,” he says. Not perfect. Overdressed. His dark green striped shirt is buttoned almost all the way up, concealing his tattoos. The sleeves aren’t rolled up either, so nothing shows there either. I’m momentarily disappointed. I may not be able to sample this perfect piece of trouble, but I really wanted to ogle him.
He keeps his eyes on the road, completely aware of everything going on while he drives. I’ve never seen anyone so focused while doing twenty-five on a residential road. “I want to apologize for the day in your office. I want to start over. Starting tonight,” he says.
His cell lights up, but he doesn’t make a reach for it. I can’t help but see Jessica’s green text bubble flashing in the center cup holder. Who doesn’t have an iPhone? Ugly jealousy rears and I tell myself only a horrible person would read the text, so I don’t. Though If I read more texts, I would have known about Nashhole’s affair. It was right under my freaking nose. I think he got off on parading it around without me discovering it.
“I’m okay with that,” I say, leaning toward him. “I’m going to completely ignore all of Morganna’s warnings and have a nice date with you. Because she has me thinking you’re a crazy prick. I really just want to walk into her office and stick my tongue out and tell her I’m still alive, and you weren’t a complete Neanderthal—which you do kind of look like. So, please don’t disappoint me. Let me win this round with her,” I ramble. “One condition though.”
“Anything,” he says.
“Forget what I said on the beach today about the Nashhole, okay? I feel like by telling you, it gives him power over me…still,” I admit, trying to keep my voice strong, even though the mere thought of my former life makes me feel weak. “I’m embarrassed I told a complete stranger my woes.” He laughs and the sound makes me jump a little.
