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The second Turtleneck’s butt cheeks left the seat, I slid into her place with the finesse of a gazelle. Well, in my head, I looked like a gazelle. The guy whose head I nearly took off with my purse probably would’ve called it more bull in china shop, but whatever. Tomato. Tomahto.
My phone pinged inside the front pocket of my purse.
BAD_Ruck (1:12PM) Question: Is now the time to confess you’re pretty adorable when you get worked up?
TAPRoseNEXT (1:13PM) Egging me on for your own amusement? That’s not very gentlemanly of you.
BAD_Ruck (1:14PM) I can assure you, I’m a gentleman in all the ways that count.
TAPRoseNEXT (1:15PM) Are you flirting with me?
BAD_Ruck (1:16PM) If I am, is it working?
TAPRoseNEXT (1:17PM) A lady never kisses (or flirts) and tells.
BAD_Ruck (1:18PM) Neither does a gentleman.
TAPRoseNEXT (1:19PM): I think you might be BAD news.
BAD_Ruck (1:20PM): BAD in the best kind of way, sweetheart.
TAPRoseNEXT (1:21PM): You’re definitely flirting with me, Ruck.
BAD_Ruck (1:22PM): You’ve got a keen eye, Rose.
“I’m convinced. You’re sexting someone.”
I glanced up from my phone, meeting Dean’s knowing look. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you think I’m sexting someone?”
“The fact that you’re smiling like a loon and haven’t noticed I’ve been sitting here for a good five minutes with our food.”
He had a point. I was too wrapped up in BAD_Ruck’s responses to notice anything else. I couldn’t deny, the man intrigued me. But I also couldn’t deny that if I didn’t set my phone down and give Dean my undivided attention, it might be grounds for a full-on catfight.
TAPRoseNEXT (1:23PM): I’ve got a growling stomach and an impatient friend who’s staring at me from across the table. Rain check (on the flirting)?
I set my phone on the table, eyeing the goodness set before me. The aroma of chicken salad and greasy French fries called my name. “This looks like heaven ready to explode in my mouth.”
“That’s what Neil said last night when he was taking off my navy Gucci dress slacks.”
My hands stopped at the halfway point of sandwich-thrusting into my mouth.
“Simply stating ‘my pants’ would have been sufficient. And who the hell is Neil?”
“Sir Sucks-A-Lot,” Dean said, taking a bite of his Greek salad. “And honey, those weren’t just any pants. They were Gucci’s twill blended wool. And they make my ass look fabulous.”
“I guess that explains why Neil was taking off your pants in the first place.”
Dean grinned. “Truer words have never been spoken.”
A jolting bump forced the sandwich to fall from my hands and land half open on the kitschy diner table. What in the ever-loving hell? If Turtleneck was coming back for her seat, it was about to go down.
“Excuse me,” was muttered over a man’s shoulder as his dress-slack-covered ass—fantastic ass, mind you—moved past my chair and toward the doors. His face was too buried in his phone to realize he had just barreled through my lunchtime fun.
“Jesus,” I grumbled. “Does everyone in New York have to be so pushy? I mean, how hard is it to watch where you’re going instead of knocking into everyone?”
Dean tilted his head to the side, eyes focused toward the front of the restaurant. “I think that was Mr. Brooks.”
“What?” I turned in my chair and watched as my boss’s tall frame walked out of the restaurant and onto Fifth Avenue.
An incoming TapNext message icon lit up my screen.
“Yep,” Dean agreed. “That’s definitely him. I’d know that body anywhere. Broad shoulders. Sexy forearms. Perfectly toned ass. The things I’d do to that man.”
“Horny much?”
“Nah.” He waved me off. “I’m still recovering from having all the horny sucked out of me last night.”
“On that note,” I announced, standing from my seat. “I think I’ll go order another sandwich. Be right back.”
“I’ll be here, doll face.”
While I stood in line, I took a gander at what else Ruck had sent my way.
BAD_Ruck (1:25PM): Can’t wait. Enjoy your lunch, Rose.
Two things stood out in my mind.
1. I wanted to chat more with BAD_Ruck. Which was crazy, considering we had been introduced by a gargoyle of dickish proportions.
2. How had I not known Kline Brooks had such a tight ass? And more importantly, if his ass looked that good in pants, what did it look like without them?
“I found the perfect date for you Friday night,” my mom claimed in my ear as I walked out of my office to head home for the night.
