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“The way I usually style it screams, unapproachable… so my best friend tells me. I don’t want to come across that way.”
“Tell your best friend she’s wrong. The pinned-up hairstyle screams, challenge.”
“What do you mean?”
I cock an eyebrow. “It makes a guy wonder what it would take to be lucky enough to run his fingers through your hair.”
Her eyes are so fucking huge right now, I bite off a smile.
She blushes.
“Same for the skirt.” I lower my gaze. “I love the longer length on you.” My eyes brush up and down her body. “It’s also a challenge… I’m not even going to tell you what’s been running through my mind since I saw you in that elevator.”
“Is this appropriate talk, Mr. Christensen?” she asks.
“We’re no longer at the office, Miss Buchanan. We’re just two friends about to go out and have a great time.”
“Friends?”
“Friends.”
“Do playboys have female friends?”
“Don’t believe everything Google tells you.”
“A picture speaks a thousand words. And there are a lot of photos of you on the internet.”
“Fair enough,” I say. “In that case, you’ll be my first female friend.”
“That’s a tall order.”
“Something tells me you can manage… you’re certainly dressed for the part.” I wink.
She beams. “Really?”
Arianne’s tempting body is adorned in a black shimmery pleated skirt. She’s wearing a gunmetal gray fitted t-shirt with a slogan printed across her chest that reads ‘Holy Chic’ traced in black sequined letters. Her feet are strapped in a pair of laced-up, black high heels.
Holy chic, indeed.
I lean into her until my lips flirt with her earlobe. “Own it, Arianne. You. Look. Fucking. Hot.”
This close, I smell every note of her light-scented perfume.
She clears her throat.
“It’s just clothes.”
“You look fucking hot in just clothes.”
Fuck, I’m dying to know what you look like out of them.
“Thank you,” she says with a touch of shyness.
“My best friend Phoebe’s boyfriend has a cousin who is a personal shopper at Beverly Hills’ Neiman Marcus. A few text messages later, and Andrea had all my measurements. By the time I got there, she had a rack full of options. Thank God she didn’t try to make me look slutty.”
“Slutty is for women who have nothing more to offer.”
She seems surprised by my comment.
