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“Oh, okay. What about?”
She wanted to play it coy? I didn’t have time for that shit. As it was, paperwork was piling up on my desk, and I’d snapped at not one, not two, but three of my assistants because my thoughts kept drifting to sex. Not just sex. Pure, animalistic fucking. I was frustrated as hell.
“You know what,” I growled lowly.
Sophia paused, sucking in an audible breath. “The kiss.”
“That,” I confirmed. “Meet me tonight at Ed’s. Seven. We’ll talk.”
I didn’t really want to get into it in public, but a restaurant was a better bet than anywhere we’d be alone. My cock was too obsessed with her to meet her somewhere private.
My dick was horrifically upset that we still hadn’t broken our dry spell, and it was playing tricks on me as a result. I deserved the misery, though, for entertaining the fantasies that popped up in my head uninvited every so often.
Sophia was quiet, hesitant. “Okay. Ed’s at seven. I’ll see you there.”
“See you there.”
Satisfied that the world would right itself after our talk, I dug into the stack of paperwork with renewed focus and got through most of it before the day was out and it was time to leave. I didn’t have time to go home for a shower or to change, but it wasn’t like I was going on a date, so I figured that it didn’t matter.
Going straight from work meant that I was probably overdressed for the burger joint and cocktail bar where I was meeting Sophia, though. I stashed my tie and jacket in my Audi, rolled up the sleeves of my blue button-up shirt, and ran my hands through my hair a few times. With a quick glance in the rearview mirror, I deemed myself presentable enough and made my way into the restaurant.
Sophia wasn’t there yet when I arrived, but since the ride over had taken less time than it could’ve, I was ten minutes early. I ordered a beer and settled in for the wait.
Ed’s was retro, if you reimagined what the word meant. It drew inspiration from Hollywood’s Sunset Boulevard in the 1950’s and was a curvy and sleek space spread through multiple dining rooms, bars, and lounges. It was spread over two levels that was reminiscent of places I’d seen in shows like Mad Men.
Over-sized chairs and booths fit inside a catacomb-like space with huge sparkling chandeliers and a sloping and twisting staircase. It kind of felt like a member of the Rat Pack could walk in at any time for a surprise performance.
I was seated in one the coves, a u-shaped booth which was private enough for Sophia and me to have the conversation that we needed to, but I’d also chosen one with a chandelier hanging directly overhead so it wasn’t too intimate of a setting.
A drop-dead sexy brunette walked through the doors, wearing a little black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. It was the kind of dress that was made to be bundled around her waist when you fucked its owner up against a wall. It showed just enough of her perky tits to tease the shit out of the parts that were left covered.
Her hair shone like polished teak. I squinted. Blinked.
Because the face that it framed was Sophia’s.
Fuck. I had not been expecting her to show up looking like that. She scanned the room, a smile curling on her lips when she spotted me.
When she started walking toward the cove, my vision narrowed, and my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. Her hips swayed ever so slightly, her toned calves rippling as she moved.
The low music and hum of the other diners faded into the background. There was only Sophia. She was the one and only thing I could focus on. I stood when she neared the table, forcing an easy smile onto my face.
“Hey, Brett,” she said, sounding the same as she always did. None of my own discomfort was present in anything about her. She drew me in for a quick hug, pressing her soft body against mine for a second that ended too soon.
Had she always smelled that good? Intensely divine, vanilla fused with a deep amber. There was no other way to describe it, but really, when did I start thinking amber had a smell?
My head was way more messed up than I realized, but there was no way I could let her know about it. That was a dangerous game that I was not playing, not with her.
Instead, I motioned toward the other side of the booth from where I was sitting. “Hey, Soph. Have a seat.”
“Thanks,” she said. Only, when she slid into the booth, she moved almost all the way to where my beer was perched on a coaster.
Okay, I could handle this. Dinner with a friend. A friend who looked and smelled better than any friend had a right to, but a friend nonetheless.
A friend who just so happens to be Mark’s little sister, I reminded myself. Following her into the booth, I stopped a few inches short of where I’d previously been seated, because any amount of distance I could maintain between us was essential. I grabbed my beer for a long pull.
From somewhere beyond my Sophia-induced haze, a waiter appeared at our table. “Can I get you something to drink, ma’am?”
Sophia nodded toward my beer. “I’ll just have a Marz as well, please.”
