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Besides the fact that Dex’s entire career shift hinged on keeping Gandalf’s true identity secret, he wouldn’t tell her even if he could. Last night she’d thought he was Brad and now she wanted his alter ego? What was up with that? Call him a selfish guy, but he wanted Zoe to want him for himself.Sure, he knew he’d been taking a chance last night, showing up in disguise and making out with her. Even though he’d been really careful in his costume, pulled back and hidden his hair, stayed in the shadows and let a hint of the Boston accent he’d picked up from his coworkers creep into his voice, he’d still hoped…what? That she’d see through his hidden identity and jump into his arms, claiming unrequited lust? Stupid. But still, he didn’t know what bothered him more, her oblivion to his actual identity or that she’d mistake him for that jerk, Brad.
He’d spent most of high school jealous of Zoe’s crush on Brad Young. He’d finally had his first kiss with her, the hottest, sexiest tangling of tongues he’d ever experienced. And she’d called him by that jerk’s name. So, yeah, he was jealous. He wanted Zoe to see him as a man. An equal. And dammit, this time she was going to. He’d just tell her that it’d been him last night and they could pick up at the half-naked point and go from there. Sure, she’d be irritated, but the heat in her eyes gave him hope that the irritation would fade fast in the face of lust.
But first, he needed to know why she was interested in Gandalf. So he gave a shrug and shook his head.
“No clue who that might be,” he told her. “I thought you did consulting, though. Not headhunting. Who’s this guy? Why are you looking for him?”
He watched the disappointment wash over her face. She glanced at her phone, then gave a little grimace. “It’s not work, it’s personal,” she told him.
Personal? Dex leaned forward to ask her just how personal. Before he could say anything, though, one of her ex-classmates stopped at their table.
“Dex, just thought you’d want to know there’s some craziness in the lobby,” the guy said. Dex couldn’t remember his name but didn’t figure it mattered. From the lusty look in his eyes, he’d really come to flirt with Zoe.
“Craziness?”
“Bunch of reunion ers are signing up for this afternoon’s limbo contest. I guess someone thought it’d be fun to spice it up a little. Now it’s being billed as naked limbo.” The guy, thirty pounds overweight, his pre-balding head gleaming in the morning sunlight, grinned at Zoe. “Of course, if you’re playing, I’ll have to play, too.”
Dex snorted, both at the guy still attempting his clumsy flirtation and the reunion idiocy. Naked limbo? Who the hell thought this shit up? And why did he have to deal with it? Then he remembered. He was the Drake in charge. Damn.
Promising to check into it, he finally got rid of the guy.
“What’s wrong?” Dex asked, seeing the annoyance on Zoe’s face.
“He was one of the guys talking shit last night. Now he thinks I’ll forget? I hate games and lies,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “These guys talk one thing behind your back, then flirt to your face like they think they’ll get lucky. They were like that in school and they haven’t changed.”
Dex’s shoulders clenched. He knew she was referring to the drive-in incident. When word had got out that she was going on a date with that jerk, Brad, everyone had fallen all over themselves to act like her friend. When the date tanked, they’d used both her sudden notoriety as an excuse to publicly skewer her as only teenagers could. He took in the angry hurt in her green eyes. Damn. He’d always hated seeing Zoe upset. Maybe this wasn’t the time to reveal the truth about his little subterfuge last night. But he had to tell her the truth. Didn’t he?
“That’s one of the things I like best about you, Dexter,” she said, leaning forward with her hands pressed to the table in a way that made her sweater gape intriguingly. “You’ve always been honest with me. Unlike some jerks, you don’t play games.”
Dex’s mouth watered at both the view and the sexy sound of his name on her lips. After last night, he’d had a driving need to hear her say his name. In conversation. In acknowledgment. In bed.
Especially in bed.
His ego, still smarting that she hadn’t recognized him, demanded no less.
His brain, remembering how fast her temper flared, cautioned him against saying anything that would have her thinking he’d played her last night.
And his dick? His dick didn’t care. All it wanted was for him to hold her against his body again. To get her naked and see how many ways he could make her come before losing himself in the hot, wet pleasure of her body.
