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“Fuck it,” I said. “I like her. I want to see where it goes. Damn the torpedoes.”
“Hah,” Sean said, sitting heavily in the chair across from me. “Now, I can drink to that. Speaking of drinks, you got something in mind for lunch?”
“What, no lecture?” I asked.
He shook his head. “You know better than that. I’m on team Hunter. I’ll back you a hundred percent. But we can talk about that with food in our stomachs and a drink in our hand. Where do you want to go?”
I had to stop myself from telling him the only place I wanted to go was home. With Julia. Alone.
ChapterTwenty-One
Julia
Monday had come and still nothing from Hunter about what our status was. I was starting to believe he never would. How would I handle that? Would I just accept it, go back to how I felt about the job when I first got it, and then get the hell out as soon as possible? Or would I be able to take it, coming in every day and seeing the place where I experienced the most intense orgasm of my life, and found myself falling deeply in love with a man who was so damned complicated that I couldn’t figure him out?
Maybe I should just quit now. If only the mounting bills at the bar weren’t weighing me down, I probably would.
I was packing up for the day, determined to leave right at five after spending almost the entire day in silence in my office. Hunter spoke maybe a dozen words, total to me all day, and half his day was out of the office with his friend, another billionaire named Sean Rusk, out to lunch and whatever they did after. Rusk had a bit of a reputation for being a playboy and flashiness as the CEO of a major hotel chain. I presumed that what they were off doing had something to do with the gentlemen’s clubs around town.
Hey, maybe he could get me in on one of those jobs. It couldn’t be any more humiliating than the way Hunter was treating me now. I’d have to trade my purple heels in for some foot-tall glass ones with a goldfish floating in them, and I’d need to get real comfortable with tassels, but perhaps it wouldn’t be all bad.
The more I joked with myself about it, the sadder I became. I needed to just shake all this off, go home, take a long bath, and get ready for work in the bar. Monday nights were usually pretty fun. The TVs would be tuned to wrestling, which Dad loved and I followed because of him, and the bar patrons got into it and quaffed cheap beer and ate tons of fries during it, so I tended to make decent money. I could salvage some of this day if I just kept my attitude in check.
With my things packed up, I checked to make sure no one was nearby, locked the main office door, and went to change my clothes. I had just put on my running jacket when the door jiggled. It unlocked just as I slipped on my second shoe and the clock struck five.
Hunter walked in, eyebrow raised as he looked around.
“I only locked it so I could change,” I said, coming out of my own office. “It’s five, and I have a shift at the bar tonight, so I am heading out. I emailed you the three calls you got, but nothing seriously time sensitive. Also, your dry cleaning will be delayed until tomorrow morning. Something about a stain on one of the pockets.”
“Squid ink,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Squid ink,” he repeated. “I got some on my shirt while I was touring a restaurant with the owner. I was thinking about investing in them, but they were sloppy.”
“I see,” I said.
“Like, get squid-ink-on-a-possible-investor kind of sloppy.”
“Ahh.”
“Not good.”
“I expect not. At any rate, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Whoa,” he said, stepping in front of me as I tried to get around him and out of the door.
Our faces were brought close, too close. I could feel his breath on my skin, and immediately I broke out in goosebumps. I hated that my body still reacted that way, but there was no ignoring it. Getting this close to him only burned that flame that I thought had gone out. Suddenly, it was roaring again, and I felt like tossing my clothes away and kissing him right then and there.
But I didn’t. I took a step back and cleared my throat, trying to shake off the sensation before I opened my mouth again.
“Excuse me,” I said as politely as I could.
“Are you planning on running home tonight?”
“Yes,” I said.
“It’s going to be twelve degrees,” he said. “You’ll freeze.”
