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Jack pulls his phone out of his back pocket as I glare at him, “Whoops, sorry about that,” he says.
I need to talk to Jack about that later. Regardless of the sexual escapades I have planned for Mallory and those leggings in our very near future, we don’t leave women alone at midnight in airports in other countries. We may be assholes, but we aren’t monsters.
“Why did you fly commercial?” Matty asks her, stone-faced as usual.
“How else would you like me to get here, carrier pigeon?” She’s on a tear tonight and clearly in no mood for Matty’s trademark Finnish bluntness. “Will one of you muscle-bound apes please help me with my suitcase! Jesus, were you all born in a barn?”
Matty is closest to her so he picks up the heavy suitcase and puts it next to our bags to go back to the hotel. “I was born at home. It wasn’t much different from a barn,” he adds. “But, why didn’t you come on the jet with us?”
“What jet?”
“We fly private unless it’s too far, like Australia,” Matty answers because he doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose when it comes to women. Jack and I are already shaking our heads at one another knowing she’s about to rip his head off. And Jack’s gay so it would be understandable if his female prowess was subpar.
Mallory all fired up is sexy as hell, though. Her pulse racing, her face and neck flushed, the way she squares her shoulders like she’s marching onto a battlefield. I like a little fight. And she has plenty of it in her.
Sure enough, Mallory walks up to Matty and pokes her little finger at his chest, “You three are monsters!”
“Don’t take it out on me, Jack is the assistant. I’m the physio, remember? Also, Sandra should have told you to come with us. It would have been more economical for the company.”
“Sandra is a troll and Jack will book your travel from now on,” I announce amid the squabbling.
“What? Now I’m the nanny’s PA, too?” Jack protests.
I shoot him a glare that says not to argue with me and he knows enough to drop it.
“Fine. The paid help is going to the hotel now,” he says to Matty as the two of them start throwing luggage into one of the transport cars, “are you two coming?”
“We’ll be there shortly,” I reply, staring at Mallory as her face slowly registers that yes, I mean she and I will be staying, together, at the garage for the moment. It’s late and almost all the support staff has left for the night.
Jack and Matty give each other knowing glances, Jack gives Mallory her hotel room keycards, and then they depart. I take a seat on a side pod of my car and sit in silence as Mallory takes a few deep breaths and then starts pacing the garage. She’s frustrated.
“Listen, about the other night,” she starts.
“Let’s not,” I cut her off. She’s in no mood for anything fun right now and the last thing I’m interested in is a discussion in which she tells me that we will never, ever sleep together. We will. She just doesn’t know it yet.
That’s ok. I like a challenge.
“I think it’s important we clear the air and acknowledge that while we may be attracted to one another…”
“Who says I’m attracted to you?” I interrupt, half teasing, half starting an argument just for the sake of it.
“I’m sorry, do you frequently rub yourself up against women you find unattractive?” She spits back.
“I wouldn’t say ‘frequently’ but it’s happened before, sure.”
“You’re disgusting,” she growls.
I stand up from the car and stride toward her. She backs up a few steps then stops when she recognizes my modus operandi, plants her feet, and rolls her eyes at me. Once more, I’m inches away and towering over her, her head meeting the top of my shoulders, at best. I take a lock of her hair from her ponytail and run my fingers down it. “You don’t really think I’m disgusting. Do you?”
“I have a pulse and a vagina, Lennox. I realize how attractive you are, but that doesn’t mean…”
“I’m glad you have a vagina. That’ll make things easier,” I smile.
Ignoring me, she continues, “That does not mean we can do this. I am not quitting and I am not losing my job over you. I don’t have that luxury. So please stop.”
I pause a moment before stepping away and Mallory smoothes her shirt down nervously. I don’t believe she wants me to stop doing this—whatever this thing is we’re doing—but until I’m one hundred percent sure, some lines don’t get crossed. I’m not going to force her. I’m going to make her beg for it.
Onto Plan B.
