Page 29

Rex sprawls into the seat across from me, his fingers idly toying with a button on his shirt collar. Swallowing, I try not to notice how he’s the definition of a virile, hot man.

How his dark and messy hair begs me to run my fingers through it. How his strong nose and the enticing divot on his top lip look like they came out of an art textbook depicting ideal male beauty.

And those eyes…the pools of quicksilver.

He winks.

I snap out of it.What on earth has gotten into me?

I frown. “Come again?”

“I know most guys would say they like blue eyes, or green,” he crosses one ankle over his knee, the perfect posture of nonchalance, “but I like brown. And yours aren’t really brown, right?”

He smiles, the whites of his teeth blinding, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No. Brown’s not the right word. Yours are the color of rich, smooth whiskey—one taste and I’ll be bewitched for life.”

My heart skips against my wishes.

Bewitched.

No one has ever used that word to describe the no-nonsense, play-it-safe Olivia Lin. It calls to the flickering energy nestled deep inside me, the incessant whisper,“Don’t you want to shine now? Aren’t you tired of living in the shadows?”

But as I examine his brittle smile, clock the dullness in his eyes, my chest caves a little.

Lip service. His compliment isn’t real.

And I know what game he’s playing at.

I school my face into one of indifference and pull out a notebook and a pen from my tote. Then I set it neatly on the desk—notebook to the left, pen to the right.

“Thank you. And whatever you’re doing, save it. It won’t work on me. And plus, your friend,” I eye the closed bedroom door whereBree was, “probably wouldn’t appreciate her man flirting with another woman.”

The sleazy pig.

Rex freezes, clearly not used to women not responding to his charm.Take that, sucker. Don’t give out compliments you don’t mean.I inwardly smile. It’s petty and unprofessional, but I’m only human.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Only speaking the truth. And I’m not her man.”

I frown. He isn’t? They seem awfully chummy.

He shrugs but doesn’t offer more. Then he reaches over and nudges my notebook to one side and flicks my pen to the other.

Like he knows it’ll drive me nuts.

He cocks his brow.

I narrow my eyes.

Not taking the bait, asshole.

“Ready to begin our first session?” I grab the pen and uncap it. There’s no one else in the dinette, so this place is as good as any.

Silence falls between us, and I wait.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.