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He grabs another shirt and slips it on, his fingers deftly dealing with the buttons, and I automatically wondered if he’d be as good undoing them regardless of the clothing item.
Err…why can’t I get my mind off this? Everything lately has been going back there, and I meaneverything. Last night while we ate dinner a drop of dressing dribbled onto his chin, and I found myself thinking what it’d be like to lean over and lick it off and then where I could dribble it for him to lick it off.
See, I’m imaging it again, and now that I know what his kisses taste and feel like, it’s so tempting, but the man is too old for me. He’s not that old, thirty-three or thirty-four I’d say, but he definitely has the confirmed bachelor feel to him and I don’t see him changing his lifestyle to suit me.
And I wouldn’t want him to either. The man I end up with will be perfect just as he is. Okay so maybe perfect is a bit of a stretch, but you get what I mean. I don’t want to deal with the whole ‘you’ll never change, yes I will, no you can’t, yes I can’ situation and that’s why I refuse to let myself get any closer to Rafe than I already am.
He turns to come meet me and I step back not wanting to get caught ogling him. That would just take too many lies to get out of. His phone beeps and he looks down at it and a different smile crosses his face. It’s a mixture of joy and light combined with adoration and love, and my heart drops.
Shit, excuse my language, he’s got a girlfriend. Of course he’s got a girlfriend. Any man as rich and sexy as him would have a girlfriend, and now my blood is boiling, not with desire but with anger.
How many times have I told myself I’d never get involved with a man who already had someone else? I’ve seen too many married, engaged, or taken men in the clubs literally drooling after the girls and I refuse to be on either side of that equation.
He looks up and I hide the anger in my eyes somehow. I do have to work with the man, and the goofy lovesick expression he wore just moments before is gone, replaced by an unmasked, unashamed look of desire and despite everything I just saw my pulse races in response.
What kind of sick joke is this?I ask myself, waiting for him to speak.
Chapter 6
“Holy hell,” he whistles and a part of me loves the response but the commonsense side of me, which is still repulsed by the knowledge that he’s seeing someone, drowns it out.
“Ready for dinner?” I ask trying to sound as normal as possible.
“I am but I don’t know if the restaurant is ready for you. You look…different. Not in a bad way, I meanwow. It’s a good thing you don’t wear something like that to work. We’d be having fights left and right as they fought over who would get to open the door for you.”
“Flatterer,” I tell him fluttering my eyelashes.
“Is there a reason for the change in style? Don’t get me wrong you look unbelievable but it’s seems a bit fast.”
“Well this isn’t exactly a work situation now is it?” I smile turning the charm up one tiny notch at a time, so I don’t overwhelm him. “We’ve been working pretty much non-stop, and those situations dictated work clothes but this, well, this is the real Amelia.”
“Then I say hello and politely ask if she’s ready to eat,” he says with a hint of hesitation.
Goody, my plans working already I muse gleefully, and as we step into the restaurant, I realize that Rafe was right, this place wasn’t ready for me. Most of the diners were staying in the hotel, and most of them were businessmen, I could pick out the groups of accountants, lawyers, salesmen and such easily enough and out of them there were at least a dozen who sat up straighter as I walked over to the table letting themaître d’seat me.
Well this should be easier than I expected. Rafe orders a bottle of wine and I glance at the menu, most of the items were pretentious wannabe-an-elite-eatery so I stuck with something basic but made enough changes to the normal add-ons that Rafe was taken back with my tediousness.
When the food arrived, I let Rafe take over the conversation, which worked out well. He wanted to know about me, so I told him, exaggerating a bit here and there, but sticking close enough to the truth that I could sound authentic. I told him about my sky diving, mountain climbing, and jet skiing adventures but let them all sound like dates instead of days spent with my family or friends.
By the time we headed back upstairs, I had the waiter ready to propose marriage, themaîtred’completely bemused, and the cook ready to kill me or throw me down onto the floor and ravish me if his eyes were to be believed. Rafe didn’t say a word from the moment we left the restaurant until we reached the room. He opened the door wide letting me in first. Then stepped inside behind me and locked the door, loosening his tie before tossing it onto the coffee table.
“That was quite a performance,” he finally said, and I momentarily lower my lashes to block my surprise.
“What are you talking about?” I ask feigning shock.
“At first I wasn’t sure what you were up to, but by the time you flat-out let the waiter make a pass in front of me, I’d figuredit out. So would you like to tell me why you were acting like a flirt, tease…cocktail waitresswhen that’s not the real you.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve known me what, two weeks? You don’t have a clue how I act outside of work,” I tell him defensively.
“No? Then let me tell you who Ithinkthe real Amelia is. The real Amelia knows how utterly desirable she is but doesn’t take advantage of it. Instead she uses her undeniable charm when she needs to get her way, for example when waiting on jerks in a strip club. The real Amelia doesn’t give every man in the world the impression she wants them. She gives them the impression that if she does, you’d be the luckiest man in that world.”
I try to hide my surprise and the fluttery dance my heart does but I’m not entirely successful.
“The real Amelia,” he continues, “she’s smart, attentive to details and can spot a line of BS before it’s even uttered. The real Amelia is sexy without the aid of clothes but when she does put them on, she knows how to wear them and not let them wear her.”
I shake my head trying to get him to stop. I can’t listen to any more of this, because my resolve will crack, and I know I’ll end up in his bed. He’s already got someone, someone it appears that he loves, sowhyis he doing this to me? It’d be one thing if it was just to sleep with me, and if that’s all he wanted, he wouldn’t begin to have waited two weeks to try it, and he mos certainly wouldn’t be spouting off the sweetest things in the world my way.
“The real Amelia is confident and competent in her work; she doesn’t question her decisions because she knows exactly where they’ll lead. The real Amelia is caring, daring, but wise; she doesn’t stupidly put herself in harm’s way or take unnecessary chances. The real Amelia isn’t scared of her sexuality, but she also doesn’t let it let it rule her. But most importantly, the realAmelia is scared to death of love and anytime it gets too close to her, she runs.”
