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“Better stop looking at me like that if you don’t want me to bend you over this desk right now.”
A surprised laugh escapes her. “And how am I looking at you?”
“Like youwantme to bend you over this desk and do dirty things to you with these fingers I’ve been working so hard on.” I wiggle my fingers.
She guffaws but quickly schools her expression. “There will be no bending anyone over any desks.”
“Oh yeah?” I challenge.
“We’re dating, Jay. Getting to know one another. Building a foundation.” She lectures me like she’s the teacher, and I’m the wayward student.
Fuck, she’s hot when she bosses me around.
“When can I meet her? Tonight?” I ask, dropping my palms to my desk and angling closer to her.
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling the whole time, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Can’t. I’m going out with Grace to discuss my dates.”
I groan and run my hand over my face. “I take it back. That’s the worst idea I’ve ever had. I don’t want you dating anyone but me. Even if it’s fake.”
She laughs and stands. And then suddenly she’s pressing her body to mine. With one hand planted on my chest, she brushes her lips against my cheek and whispers, “Petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid.”
It’s so surprising I don’t even have a chance to wrap my arms around her before she’s pulling away.
“What does that mean?”
Her eyes dance. “Literally? Little by little, the bird makes its nest.”
I bark out a laugh. “Why the hell did you say it? I mean it was sexy as fuck.”
She smirks. “It means slowly but surely, Mr. Hanson. Patience.”
“The only French I know is ménage à trois.”
She giggles. “This is going to be so much fun, Mr. Hanson.”
My heart stutters, and a bolt of desire races through me. “Let the games begin, future Mrs. Hanson.”
* * *
From my spotat the bar, I have an unobstructed view of the entrance, allowing me to monitor every person who enters the restaurant. But it’s Kevin who spots them. “Kitten. Five o’clock,” he practically shouts, nudging me in the ribs.
Garreth swirls the liquid in his rocks glass, the ice inside clanking. “You aren’t a fucking spy. Just say you see Cat sitting in the corner.”
“And don’t ever use that fucking nickname again,” I say, shooting him a warning glare.
Kevin downs his drink. “Well, aren’t you two a good time? Why am I here again?”
Garreth sips his drink, watching me over the rim. “The same reason we’ve all become puppets for my little brother. Because of her.” He nods in Cat’s direction.
Despite my brother’s annoyance with me, I can’t help but smile at the woman across the room. Her lips are painted a deep red and her cheeks are highlighted by bronzer, but tonight her hair is what draws my attention. She cut it.
And it’s drastic.
She’s always had long, dark hair that sways as she walks. But the woman I can’t take my eyes off sits at a small table with Grace, martini in hand, with hair cut to her chin. The new style highlights her long neck, tempting me to march over there and press a kiss up every inch.
“Fucking gorgeous,” I mutter, mesmerized, before taking another sip of my drink and leaving the men at the bar.
I don’t miss the good-natured grumble Garreth lets out. Yeah, he’s right. I’m fucking gone for her. Have been for a long, long time.
