“That’s right. You practically threw your face at my fist.”
“I was trying to get you to stop.”
“Stop what? Hitting the cretin? Well, you succeeded.”
He bit his lip, and she almost wondered if he did that to keep from laughing. It was hard to tell with one eye swelling up and the other blinking like a strobe light.
Whatever he meant to do by biting his lip, she wished he would stop. It was distracting.
“Let’s take this outside.” Roxanne opened the door, but held out her arm and looked up and down the hallway. “No one here. Good. Come on.”
They’d been standing in the hallway less than thirty seconds when Ian Anker came sauntering around the corner.
“Nice accessory, Clarke.” He laughed. “Does it come in other colors? What happened? Someone finally get tired of that superior, righteous attitude of yours and try to smack it off your face? At least this time you can’t blame it on me.”
Roxanne stepped out from behind Clarke, glaring at the man.
Anker blinked and swallowed.He actually swallowed, thought Ceci, watching the man’s Adam’s apple rise and fall.
Another moment and he smiled. Ceci might have called it a sweet smile, if she thought Anker capable of one.
“Hello, Miss Windsor.”
She saw Clarke roll his eyes, or at least the one eye that could manage it.
“Are you bidding on anyone today?” Anker asked.
The look on Roxanne’s face told him that if she were, it wouldn’t be him.
But he was undeterred. “If you were the one to win a date with me, I can promise, I would make it extra, extra special.”
Ceci stepped forward. “Ian, what are you doing here? What do you want?”
Chuckling, he hung his head, staring at the floor.
Is he blushing? Can’t be.Ian Anker never blushed.
“You know,” he said. “I’ve actually forgotten.”
“Just go,” Ceci said. “You have to get up on that stage soon.”
When Anker lifted his head, he looked over Ceci’s shoulder at Roxanne, who stood with her arms crossed and an expression that basically said,get the fuck out of here.
Anker hesitated until Ceci waved her hand like she was shooing away a fly.
He shot a swift look at Clarke before turning on his heels. “See you out there, punching bag.”
“Maybe we should get someone to look at that eye,” Roxanne suggested once he was gone. “It’s getting worse.”
“I’m fine,” Clarke hissed, leaning against the wall and folding his arms across his chest.
Ceci eyed the way his elegant jacket tugged against the lean, hard muscle of his arms. The crossing of those arms emphasized the breadth of his chest and sculpted shoulders, not to mention the slimness of his waist and that svelte slope to the nether regions.
Definite man-V. Probably a really fine man-V. Much as I hate to admit it.
Is he doing that on purpose?
She couldn’t tell which was straighter, his spine or his gaze, which he shot like an arrow at the blank wall in front of him. Point made—look at anything but her.
