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She mimics my behavior. “Why did you agree to come tonight?”
I shake my head and chuckle, leaning back in the seat. “I think you’re looking for trouble.”
“Didn’t realize you were such a Boy Scout, Mr. Archer.” She has that look in her eyes, the same one she had the night we first met and I know she’s goading me.
I let her comment simmer for a moment, running my hand over my jaw as I allow my eyes to slowly peruse her body. I can see her fidget under my stare, her facade slowly breaking. I level my eyes directly at hers.
“I can assure you, Miss Spencer,” I say her name deliberately with a touch of sternness. “I am anything but a Boy Scout but there are several pretty solid reasons why we know that’s a bad idea. One being I’m your boss; I’d say that’s a pretty big reason. The others being the very obvious fact that your father and I are good friends and lastly,” I say slowly as the car comes back down to the platform where we started, “I’m old enough to be your father.”
There’s a flash of something in her eyes, something that tells me this won’t be the end of this conversation and as much as I know it should be, I don’t want it to be either.
We exit the ride and make our way back down to the entrance of the park. The sun has fully set and the city is alive with lights and the usual Saturday night crowd looking for fun and trouble.
“Come on.” I cup her elbow and point toward my driver whom I texted on the ride. “My driver’s waiting over here. He’s going to give us rides home.”
I don’t give her time to argue. I help her into the back seat of the SUV and slide in beside her.
“Evening, Carson. This is Brontë Spencer. We’ll be making a stop to drop her off tonight.”
“Evening, sir, Miss Spencer,” Carson says before asking for her address.
“You’re not getting out of answering,” she whispers. I give Carson a look in the rearview mirror and he hits the button to slide the partition up. She watches as it closes, then looks over at me. “Just answer as if none of those things existed.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“It’s vindication. The one time I go out on a limb and ask a guy out while trying to get back out there, I get rejected. And it was in front of my friends, on my graduation night.” She plays up the puppy dog eyes and I hate that I can feel myself giving in.
“Get back out there?” I give her a questioning look and she shakes her head.
“You answer first.”
I stall for as long as possible till I feel the car slowing and Carson taps on the partition.
“Looks like your stop. I’ll walk you to your door.”
I exit the vehicle and hold out my hand. Brontë slides hers into mine as she steps onto the curb. We walk to the front of her building and she turns to face me.
“I’ll drop it.” She smiles. “Thanks for the ride and the company. I had a lot of fun.” She turns to reach for the handle of her door when I dart out my hand to grab her arm. She stops, looking down to where my fingers are wrapped around her arm, then back up at me.
Now is the time I should release her hand. I should tell her good night and march my ass back to my vehicle, but I don’t.
“No,” I say, looking into her eyes as her smile fades. “I wouldn’t have taken your number… Because I wouldn’t have let you walk out of the bar without me that night.”
Her lips turn from a straight line into a coy smile. “Bold of you to assume I would have gone home with you.”
Damn this woman, she knows exactly how to push my buttons… and it’s working.
I step closer to her, her back hitting the brick wall of the building and that cocky grin of hers fades.
“Bold of you to assume you would have been able to resist.” I run my hand slowly up her exposed arm till I reach her chin. I hook my finger beneath it, tilting it upward so that she’s looking at me. I take the opportunity to give her a taste of the kind of man I am—maybe if I call her on her bluff, it will put a healthy dose of fear in her.
“Do you think you would have said no, Brontë, if I had touched you?” I step even closer, the heat from our bodies colliding. I lean in, my lips right at her ear. “If I had kissed you?”
I hear her swallow as she tries to maintain her composure. This is what she needs, a reminder that her flirty little questions might have answers that she’s not prepared to hear.
“I know you enjoy tempting me, but I’ve got a lot more experience in this game than you do, sweetheart, so unless you’re planning on following through.” I lift my head so that our noses are practically touching. “Don’t fucking tease me.”
I reach my thumb up and drag it slowly over her bottom lip, contemplating if I should bite it but I decide I won’t be able to stop myself if I do.
