Page 43 of Wait for Him

Her face goes shy.

Actually shy.

Her eyes duck, and there's a little curl at the corner of her mouth she's trying to hide.

Fuck me. Vulnerable Rose has always been my kryptonite. She's sitting there drunk and embarrassed, trying to hide that little smile, and all I want to do is scoop her out of the chair and take her home. Unfortunately, my dick has interpreted the situation very differently and I'm hard as a goddamn rail under the table.

Compassion and erections, it turns out, aren't mutually exclusive.

“A while.” She lifts one shoulder. “I knew you'd be in the area at the Singapore meeting. And I needed a safe ride home.”

Safe.

Right. That's me.

The safe friend. The best friend. The brother's-best-friend, nothing-can-ever-happen-here friend. I signed that contract the day Bennet and I graduated eight years ago, and I've honored every line of it since. Doesn't mean a word like safe in her mouth doesn't go in like a goddamn splinter.

“Of course.” I give her a gentle nod. “I'll take you home. Drink as much as you want. I've got you.”

She smiles and tilts her head slightly, taking another sip of her wine while she watches me over the rim. There's something playful in her eyes now, something I don't entirely trust, and the longer she looks at me without saying anything, the more I start to shift in my seat.

“I meant your home.”

Well.

And just like that, the contract's got a fucking crack in it, and she's the one holding the pen.

Her words haven't even finished settling before she's digging through her purse. I watch her rummage around for a few seconds, completely lost as to where this is going, until she finds whatever she's looking for and drops it onto the table between us.

A condom.

I stare at it.

Then at her.

“What do you say, Jackoftrades20?”

The handle throws me for a complete fucking loop.

She remembers it.

Not only does she remember it, she's using it on purpose, and somewhere beneath all that wine she's delighted with herself. I can see it in the little curl of her mouth as she waits for me to respond.

Jesus Christ.

I slap my palm over the condom and sweep the bar in a single glance. Booths, bartender, couple by the window. Nobody seems to be paying us any attention.

Good.

I've never given a damn what a room thinks of me, but I will not let Rosalie Bennett hand some stranger a story about herself because a man eons out of her league broke her heart this morning. She doesn't get to be careless with her own name on my watch.

Not even with me.

Especially not with me.

I slide the condom off the table and into my pocket. The flash in her eyes follows my hand the whole way, and I take a quiet second to have a very serious conversation with the part of me that has already reviewed her proposal and voted yes.

It's not happening.