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We’re five minutes in and I'm already losing my mind.
This is not going to be a fun trip.
* * *
We’re nearlytwo thirds of the way into our car trip and the tension between us is growing. Noah feels it too. I can tell by the way he keeps glancing at me with that sexy smirk on his lips. I do my best to keep the conversation professional, because the less personal we get the more chance I have of coming out of this alive.
“Where do you even work anyway?”
I always assumed he worked for his grandfather, but I have never actually asked. I don't know much about his family, but I do know they own several big companies that focus on real estate. But that doesn't make any sense, because why would he need to impress his boss if it's a family business? And why the hell would he need a fake girlfriend? As if he can see the questions ticking over in my mind, Noah starts to explain.
“I work in real estate, but not for my family. I wanted to do things on my own, you know, and not rely on my family name to get ahead in life,” he says, glancing at me. “So I went out and got a job at a rival company so I could pave my own way.”
Wow, I actually have some respect for the guy now.
“That's impressive,” I admit. “I guess I always assumed that you'd ride the coattails of your family name as far as it would take you. No offence.”
He chuckles, not looking the least bit offended. “I forgot how much I like you, Sloan. You're so direct and to the point.”
“So where is this function?” I ask, getting the subject off how much he likes me and back on to why we are here. “Is there anything I need to know?”
“It's at a resort on the coast. Once a year, the company likes to put everyone up and make everyone forget how much they hate their jobs.”
“Sounds wonderful,” I say making a face.
“So, what about you?” he asks. “Are you still at university?”
“Yes, it’s my last year,” I nod.
“And then what?” he prods.
“Then I’m a lawyer,” I say with a smile.
“Really?” He looks surprised. “I never picked you for a lawyer.”
“What would you have picked me for, then?” I can’t resist asking.
“After reading those stories you wrote me?” He gives me a look that almost melts my panties. “Maybe an author, for one. Or anything to do with writing.”
“I didn't write themforyou,” I snap, my face heating up. “You found them and took it upon yourself to read my personal property.”
“For me. About me. Same difference,” he dismisses. “My point is, they were damn good. I thought for sure that you were going to become a writer of some kind.”
As much as I don't want his words to please me, they do.
“Yeah, well, writing isn’t likely to be something I can make a career out of,” I mutter, my cheeks heating. “At least I can count on law getting me to where I want in life.”
“Sure, but wouldn’t you have a lot more fun writing?”
“Why does everyone think a law career is boring?” I explode.
“Because it is,” he replies, matter of fact. “Unless you’re Harvey Specter. You know what makes that show great? The writing.”
“What’s your point?” I ask. “Why do you care so much about my career, anyhow?”
“Because I hate to see a good talent go to waste,” he shrugs. “The world needs more female smut authors, Sloan. Especially hot, talented ones.”
I glower at him, sure he’s taking the piss, but he looks serious, like he means what he’s saying.
