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“So nice to hear from you, Archer. What’s it been, a couple days?” Almost twenty-five days, not that I’m keeping count.
“Very fucking funny, Ivy. I’m not kidding,” he growls irritably. “I need your help, and I needed it yesterday.”
“And you’re calling me? Why? How exactly can I help you?” Wow, I sound remarkably cool and calm, but deep within my insides are trembling. And for whatever crazy reason, mynipples are hard. All from his gruff, commanding tone. So ridiculous, but it’s like the second I hear his voice, my body reacts. I haven’t been able to get that night out of my mind. Images of a naked Archer above me, kissing me, buried deep inside me are burned on my brain.
“You’re still single, right?” he asks, knocking me from my thoughts.
“How is that any of your business?” My heart lodges in my throat. As if he would care. “And who told you that?” Fine. I so am. I haven’t talked to Marc, the jerk, since I broke it off with him. And I haven’t talked to any other guy either, let alone gone out on a date since my night with Archer.
Has he somehow ruined me forever? God, I hope not. I’m only twenty-four. I don’t want to die a shriveled up old lady pining for a man who had sex with me once and then walked away.
“Gage told me.”
I’m going to kill my brother. “Why do you care if I’m single or not?”
“I have a proposition for you.” He pauses and my heart falls into my stomach with hope. “A business proposition.”
Of course. Not that I expected a sexual one. Hello, been down that road once before and look where it got me? A lot of lonely, achy nights waking up after sweaty, too-graphic dreams involving me and him naked. “What sort of business proposition could you possibly have for me?”
“We’re getting ready to open a new set of suites at Hush. There’s only a handful, but they’re bigger, much more exclusive—and expensive—and I need someone to design the interior.” He pauses and my heart squeezes. “I want you.”
Hearing his familiar, deep voice say he wants me in that commanding way of his sets my legs shaking. And I’m sittingdown. Ridiculous. “Maybe I’m busy,” I say haughtily, which is true.
“Come on, Ivy. You’re not too busy for me, are you?” He’s teasing me, but there’s a sexual edge to his voice. One I want to ignore.
“Actually, I am. I have a lot of projects I’m working on currently for clients.” I sound like a prim schoolteacher, but damn it, I know I have an appointment I need to get to soon. I really don’t have time to listen to him go on and on about how much heneedsme. Getting my hopes up only for them to come crashing down when he never contacts me again.
He’s real good at that.
“I’ll make it worth your while.” His voice lowers, deceptively soft yet edged with smoky, sensual heat.
Tingles sweep over my skin. “I’m sure you will,” I say sarcastically. I refuse to let him know how much he still affects me, especially after he so callously ignored me this past month.
We got naked together. We had sex. And he acts like it never happened. I do too, because how else should I handle it? Confront him?
Hey, what the hell was that night all about anyway? I felt the earth move and thought maybe... you felt the same?
Can’t go there. No matter how badly I want to. And wasn’t he the one who called it a mistake?
Yeah, so not going to bring any of that up to him. He’d rather forget. Just like I would.
Liar.
I wish he hadn’t called. Just hearing his voice works me up. Archer Bancroft is dangerous for my well-being and I know it. Delicious. Wicked. Appealing. Wrong. At least, he’s wrong for me.
“I have to go, Archer.” I keep my tone brusque as my gazelands on my computer screen. My to-do list mocks me, it’s so long. And my calendar app dings, reminding me I have an appointment with a client in thirty minutes.
Which means I need to leave now if I want to make it on time.
“Listen, I’m in town and I want to see you,” he says, shocking me. I didn’t expect him to say that. “Let me take you to dinner tonight and I’ll explain everything. How about we go to Spruce?” He refers to an ultrapopular restaurant not too far from my office. I’ve been there before and it’s amazing. Amazingly intimate too—the perfect restaurant for a date. Not that we’re going on a date.
Yeah, right.
“I’ll pick you up at your office, we can have a few drinks first, then dinner,” he continues.
“No,” I say vehemently, rendering him completely silent. I’d bet a million dollars not many women utter that word in his presence, but the very last thing I want is Archer invading my private workspace, spreading his devastating charm all over it.
I really don’t need that reminder lingering around long after he’s gone. Some things should remain sacred from the Archer effect. “How about I meet you at the restaurant?”
