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The work day ends later than I’d like it to, and as I wait for the elevator, Cash comes to a stop beside me. I try not to look at him. Try not to fidget as his nearness washes over my skin like a tangible caress. Someone passes behind us, their heels clicking across immaculate white marble.
Neither of us speak.
We’ve spent big chunks of the day together in the same room, but we had the distraction of work and other people to keep us company. To keep us in line. Now, as those elevator doors open and we step inside, I’m as nervous as I was when I first entered his office this morning.
My heartbeat flutters fast as the doors slide shut. As we start the slow descent to the bottom, I lift my gaze, meeting his head-on, and the yearning I find in his eyes is so powerful that I grip the bar behind me as a lifeline.
Being alone with him is fucking dangerous.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
He has no idea.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me of a different kind of hunger since I didn’t have time today for a proper lunch. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Want to grab dinner?”
I arch a brow. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I’ll be on my best behavior, Jules.”
He will be, but what about me? A day doesn’t go by that I don’t lose my head around him. Especially when he looks the way he does now, with his hair mussed from running his hands through it all day, jacket and tie gone, and cuffs rolled up.
He walked into the building this morning looking like an executive, but he’s walking out sexily disheveled. And he’s asking me to walk out with him.
“What about your wife? Isn’t she waiting for you at home?” I know she left Mont Center hours ago. Over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed that she isn’t the type to put in extra hours.
Not like Cash does.
“The last thing I want to do is go home right now, Jules. It’s just dinner, I promise.”
When it comes to him, it’s never just anything. But as usual, I’m powerless to say no. As we arrive on the first floor, I wonder what would happen if he really touched me. If he came on strong enough to leave no doubt about his intentions.
Would I be able to resist him?
To resist what every fiber of my being is aching for?
I honestly don’t know.
Exiting through the glass doors of Mont Center, we fall into step, side by side. He chooses the restaurant, and we begin the short walk there in companionable silence. I never feel the need to fill the air with useless chatter around him. Even when I’m nervous as fuck, my heart beating too hard, and palms sweaty, being around him feels natural. It feels right, despite that damn ring on his finger.
As soon as we reach our destination, he opens the door for me.
“Just so you know,” I say, catching his gaze, “I’m paying for myself, so don’t even try arguing with me.”
An amused smile plays on his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The restaurant is a mixture of classy and intimate, but what I like most is the unique ambience I’ve begun to associate with Seattle; laid back and artsy with a touch of grunge. The lights are dim, casting a warm glow over the square tables outfitted with simple white cloths and tea candles. The place is brimming with people, some locals, and some tourists. I don’t think there’s a person here who isn’t engaged in conversation.
Being a Monday night, the wait isn’t long. The hostess leads us to a table on the terrace overlooking Elliot Bay, and the spice of Italian cuisine has my mouth watering.
“Have you been here before?” he asks after we’re seated.
“I haven’t, but I like it.”
“Kaden turned me on to this place. It’s been one of my favorites ever since.”
“I ran into him Saturday night at his club.” I pick up my menu, deciding not to bring up my upcoming “date” with his brother. Hopefully, it’ll be nothing more than a casual outing as friends. Not even worth a mention.
