Page 24 of Elf-ish

“You’ll need to sign an NDA before I can tell you the rest of the story.”

I playfully swat at him. “You’re mean.”

“I’ve heard that a time or two hundred as well.” He sips his drink while gazing at me over the edge of the glass.

While I understand where his walls come from and why he insisted on fitting in, carrying on his family’s legacy, and living life to the max, tragedy and heartbreak have two paths. I didn’t travel the road he has after losing my parents, or the man I thought should have been the love of my life. If anything, my heart might have softened to tragic moments and deep loss.

Jude, however, has taken the callouses on his heart and hardened them, molding a glamorous but empty shell.

Jude sips his drink, but I still haven’t raised my glass despite my throat suddenly going dry.

“Let’s see, what else?” he continues. “My father always loved my younger sister more than me. Hell, I love my younger sister more than anyone. And she worships me, for obvious reasons.”

He winks, laying on that charm like people layer a cake, but I accept the twitch of a smile. The quotation mark at the corner of his mouth digs a little deeper, a little more pronounced.

“Obviously.” I scan down his form. Jude wears business suits like a second skin, powerful and attractive. Or are they a protective layer?

“She’s married with a few rugrats and lives in California.”

“That’s a long way from home, Toto,” I tease.

“Don’t I know it,” Jude mutters, lifting his glass but then notices I haven’t raised mine. He glances into the container in his hand and lowers it. “I’m really sorry about your parents.” He continues to stare at the amber liquid inside his crystal glass.

“Thank you, Jude. I’m sorry about your mom.” Finally, I lift my slim glass, salute him, and sip the drink that bursts on my tongue like the Christmas promised. Something minty while pine. Spicy and sweet all at once.

“Oh God,” I close my eyes and tip back my head. “That’s so good.”

When I lower my head, I meet Jude’s icy eyes, nearly crystallized, piercing and focused intently on me.

For some reason, I want to uncross my legs, spread my knees, and beg him to step between my thighs. The thought is so instant, heat creeps over my body, starting at my ankles and licking up my skin, swirling at my center, which I clench tighter because my legs remain crossed.

Jude’s gaze drops to my lap, where I’ve shifted from one butt cheek to the other.

He slowly gazes up my body, taking his time over my belly and along the V between my breasts.

“Let’s get—”

“Ashford.” The sharp bite of Jude’s last name, along with a firm hand squeezing at his shoulder, breaks the spell between us and cuts off his suggestion.

A suggestion I’m certain would have finished as an invitation to leave this bar. If only I didn’t need an NDA to get more truths from Jude.

He’s sex on a peppermint stick in the physically attractive column, but he has miles of question marks in the attitude department.

Naughty versus nice list. He’s fine to look at but his heart is still black and that’s just not enticing to me.

chapter 9

[Angelica]

Sharing a room with a stranger should not be this complicated. Especially when Jude isn’t entirely a stranger, although I still know very little about him.

The rest of the evening passed with me sitting on the barstool, looking pretty, smiling at creepy old men, and nodding at the wives who were talking about other wives who were absent. To Jude’s credit, he never left my side. Those necessary, occasional touches he mentioned in the car were constant, almost as if he needed the reassurance that I was here for him.

His hand on my back. Or the backs of his knuckles tickling down my arm. And once, he even reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze and then holding tight.

That perfected smile was in full bloom, and I wondered a time or two if his cheeks ever grew tired. Or if his soul did, because keeping up appearances developed a whole new meaning after watching Jude interact with the people affiliated with his company.

Hell, I was exhausted for him.