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“What an asshat,” he mutters and scowls down at me. “You used to fuck that?”
No, I didn’t, but I simply shrug a shoulder. “I realized that he’s an asshat pretty quickly.”
“Good.” He steps away, and I take a long sip of the coffee.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that, but I’m not sorry that you got him to leave.”
“What time should I pick you up tonight?”
That makes me grin as I take another sip of my coffee. “Drew, you don’t have to escort me tonight. It’s really okay.”
“Do you think he’s not going? He’ll be front and center, likely as your father’s date, so he can keep an eye on you. I know guys like this, and they piss me off. I’ll take you.”
“You don’t even like me.”
“Says who?”
I laugh now and shake my head, and then the laughter comes harder, and I can’t control it. I have to sit and cross my legs so I don’t pee myself, and all the while, Drew just stands there, his arms folded, watching me with humor in his own blue eyes.
“You can’t stand it when I come to your office,” I say when I can breathe again. “And now you’re going to willingly spend the evening with me?”
“I don’t dislike you. Idodislike him. What time should I pick you up?”
“We can meet there.”
“London.” That’s the first time he’s ever said my name, and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard in my life. “What time?”
“Seven?”
“I’ll see you then.”
Chapter3
Drew
I’m not entirely sure how I ended up in this situation.
I wasn’t lying to London when I told her that I didn’t dislike her. She’s not my favorite person on the planet, but even if I hated her guts, I would have stepped in this morning when I heard that smarmy voice in her office.
I happened to be in the lobby of the building when her coffee was delivered, and I offered to run it up to her. No big deal.
But as I walked down the hall, I heard him, and it was plain as day that he was an asshole. Before I knew it, I had my arm wrapped around her, had kissed her head, and had given the other man the impression that she and I were an item.
The kicker is, despite the fact that she can grate on my nerves faster than anyone else in the known universe, she felt good against me.
And she smells like cinnamon, which intrigues me. Is that normal? Does she bake a lot? Where does that come from?
I guess I inherited the urge to swoop in and help a woman from my dad and uncles, and the thought of escorting her to the charity dinner tonight doesn’t bother me. As a member of the staff, I have to go anyway. She’s going, and I’m going; we might as well just ride together.
Like I said, no big deal.
I have to check in with the security guard at the gate of the neighborhood as I pull onto her street.
“Drew Montgomery for London Ambrose.”
“Yes, sir. Her home is two miles in, at the end of the road.”
“Thanks.”
