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“I’ve seen your number on your business card and application, remember?”
And what, had memorized it?
That sent a much too wicked thrill down my spine.
“Still with me, Ari?” His tone was low and sensual. The most seductive bedroom voice imaginable. My inner thighs flamed. My stomach quivered. And we were just on the phone!
Potent was a mammoth understatement for this man.
“I’m still here,” I said, my own voice the soft, sultry one that seemed to be reserved specifically for him. Which was just one more intimate thing between us when intimacy was what I wanted to evade.
“So, you’ve made up your mind about the director position?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, let it out slowly. “Actually, that’s not why I’m calling.” I still needed more time to wade through all the exciting yet conversely troubling nuances presented. “Are you alone?”
Whoa. I winced inwardly. Where the hell had that come from?
Unfortunately, I knew precisely from where. I couldn’t let go of the image of the Heidi Klum lookalike grazing her breasts against his chest, smiling beguilingly at him.
He was quiet for several seconds that felt more like an eternity, leaving me to grind over how possessive I’d sounded. That was his department, not mine.
Eventually, he asked, “What would make you think I was with someone?”
“I just—I—” Oh, Jesus. “I saw you with a woman at Tlaquepaque. I just assumed—”
Ugh! I bounced the heel of my hand off my forehead a few times. I was a colossal idiot.
“So that’s what that bizarre question about interviewing female executives was all about. You should have said something sooner.”
“I shouldn’t be saying anything at all,” I lamented.
“Ari, she’s a friend,” he explained. “Her name is Mikaela Madsen. She and her boyfriend, Fabrizio Catalano, are trying to open a shop in Old Town Scottsdale. They import gourmet olive oils, wines, meats, cheeses, and the like. All from Brizio’s family village in Italy. They’ve run into a few snags with zoning and City Council and Mikaela asked for my help.”
I sighed despondently. What was worse than a colossal idiot? A monumental one?
“So … you’re jealous?” he asked with interest in his tone, while I backpedaled in my mind. “Because, Ari,” he added, “that’s sexy. But not warranted. I wouldn’t have said what I did last night if I weren’t serious about being with you.”
Being with you …
Those words caused apprehension and excitement to crash over me. I struggled for a way out of this conversation that I’d started. But my thoughts were all twisted and nonsensical.
I hastily said, “That’s not at all what I meant. Not the reason I’m calling.” My heart thumped ridiculously fast. Geez, just shoot me now. “Do you know your Web site is down?”
“That’s why you’re calling?” He made a tsking sound, so cool and nonchalant. While I could barely breathe. “Now I’m disappointed. I was hoping you were tossing and turning in bed, thinking about me and wondering what I might be able to do about your restlessness.”
“I—” I shook my head. I was restless. How had he known? Was I really this transparent with him?
“If you’re interested in a bedtime story, I’d be happy to make one up for you,” he taunted in his sexy voice. “But be forewarned: It’s no sweet, innocent fairy tale.”
Of course not. Because you are the devil.
A hotter than hell one at that.
“I’ll pass on the story,” I said. Coward. “Is your site scheduled for maintenance tonight?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” he told me, the discontent over my avoidance thick in his tone. I heard his fingers click on the keyboard, so he must be in his office. Or he could be working on a laptop at home. I almost asked but pressed my lips together to keep from sounding as though I were stalking him. “That’s weird,” he muttered. “It’s solid black.”
A crack of thunder made me jump. Rain pelted the windows. All I needed now was a terrifying flock of ravens perched on the tree limbs outside and I could call it a day.
