Page 13 of Handle Me

For a man who seemed fluent in double entendre, he could be dense. That, or he wanted me to spell it out for him.

“I assumed that whoever left the lipstick might be back….” I trailed away, leaving the door open for him to follow through.

Anders considered this for a moment before he shook his head. “She won’t care.” He strode to the door and paused there. “I’m ready when you are. I need to be to the track at—”

“One,” I finished for him. “I heard you the first time you said it.”

“I’ve seen how women like you shop.”

I restrained myself from responding to the ‘women like you’ comment. “Men are easier to shop for.”

His lips curled into a crooked smile. “We are, huh?”

“Especially a man like you,” I said sweetly.

“Why’s that, boss?” His curiosity lingered, but sharpness glinted in his eyes.

“Because a man like you….” I repeated, letting my words linger until he was hanging on my every breath, hoping I might accidentally give another clue away. “...a man like you only takes two seconds to size up.”

“Is that so?” he said in a rough tone. “I guess I always believed it when they said you should be yourself.”

“I wasn’t talking about your personality.” I looked him over, stopping on the bulge barely hidden under his jeans. Was he always this…pronounced?

“Ouch.” He pressed a hand to his chest like I’d wounded him. I sincerely doubted he cared what I thought about him.

He made me want to scream. Not a little annoyed shriek, either. I wanted to open my mouth and bellow from some primal, untapped reservoir until the frustration brewing inside me was finally released. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I held the scrap of lingerie covering me with one hand and pointed to the door with my other. “Can I have a minute to get dressed? Then I’ll call the car?”

“The car?” he asked blankly.

“My driver,” I said impatiently. “He can drive us into Birmingham and—”

“You think I’m going to get in a car and let some stranger drive me to the store to—”

“I don’t care,” I erupted, losing my cool. “I know you’re pissed that there are reporters following you and that your family isn’t what you thought and that you think I’m going to burn all your blue jeans. But get over it! Life happens whether you have plans or not.”

His mouth remained open from when I’d interrupted him. Anders blinked a few times as if he was processing my outburst. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “I think you’ve misunderstood me.”

“Oh, I have?” I marched over to him and jabbed my index finger into his chest. “You’ve been pressing every one of my buttons since that first phone call. Maybe you can whip your dick out and get other women to fall all over themselves, but it takes a little more to impress me.”

“What does it take, boss?”

“A man who doesn’t care what other people think about him, for starters,” I said.

“You think I care?” he roared.

“Oh, I know you care,” I said. “And a man who knows exactly what he wants.”

Anders took a step closer, pressing his hard chest against my pointed finger. “I think I’ve made it clear what I want.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the implication of his words. “And a man,” I added weakly, “who doesn’t play games.”

“Is that your problem with me?” he asked in a soft voice. “Maybe it’s not playing games that’s the real problem.”

“Then what is?” My heart raced inside my chest, making my head spin.

“You’ve only played with men who lose.” A slow smile curved across his face. “I play differently.”

I raised an eyebrow, not trusting myself to speak.