Page 16 of Dangerously Tempting

After throwing on my best comfy with a splash of sexy outfit I have, I quickly gather my things and bolt out the door. I don’t have time for coffee this morning, so the men in my office better watch it because I might actually commit murder without my daily caffeine fix. I make it to my building in record time, giving Hank a quick good morning as I hustle on by. I contemplate using the elevator but I just know it will be one of those times that it takes 80 years to reach the bottom floor, and then there will be a person needing to get off at every single floor between there and my office if I do.

Stairs it is.

I shoulder open the door, having to yank my bag back up onto my shoulder as I do so. The damned thing has been falling off my shoulder repeatedly in my haste. It’s getting on my nerves so bad I’m about to just leave it on the floor and pretend it’s not even mine. I pinch it under my arm as I hustle up the stairs, glancing down at my watch.

I’m running behind, but I’m not actually late yet, thank goodness. I can make it and take a breather to situate myself before the shit show begins if I keep up my pace. But luck and fate don’t seem to be on my side this morning and I clip the front of my shoe on a step and barely catch myself on the landing before I eat shit. I glance up to discover there must be some smidgen of luck left because no one is standing around, like they usually are, on the floor above me that the construction crew are working on.

I take a shaky breath before pushing to my feet and try to take a step up onto the landing. I start the motion but something tugs me back, and I flick my eyes down to find my bag hooked on the end of the stair railing. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I grumble, giving it a yank.

That one, singular movement sends my world into utter chaos.

Suddenly my bag is made of the cheapest fabric known to man, and the damned thing literally rips apart at the seams as the handle tears off, dumping all my stuff onto the floor, some of it clattering down the stairs.

“Fuck this fucking day,” I groan, scrambling to catch what I can before it all goes down the stairs. I throw the tattered remains of my bag on the landing and start piling everything on top, cursing under my breath as I do so. I hear the sound of booted feet approaching and want to crawl in a hole and die before whoever is approaching gets here, but I’m too in the open and don’t have enough time.

Without a word, whoever walked over starts helping me collect my things, and I mumble my thanks, thoroughly embarrassed at this point. When I finally grab what I think is the last thing and add it to the pile, I look up at the man that was helping me and freeze.

My mouth drops open as soon as my brain catches up to what my eyes are seeing and I shoot my hand out to grasp the railing to steady myself as I push to my feet. I snap my mouth closed as our gazes connect, feeling completely off kilter

For a second I can see delight on his face, but as he scans my face it falls away. “Amelia,” he rumbles, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

“Jameson,” I force out, feeling awkward as fuck but unable to form a coherent thought, let alone words to say to him at this moment.

Never, in a million fucking years, did I think that I would run into him where I work. Not only that, but the hard hat concealing his hair and the gaudy orange vest pulled over his T-shirt certainly speak volumes on the amount of things that he didn’t tell me during our row in the sheets.

What the fuck is happening right now?

I squat down to fold my bag over my items and ball it against my chest, sucking in a breath to prepare myself for the shit show I can feel coming. It’s a matter of which of us will break through to the truth first, and at this point, I don’t care who. I need him to come clean and I need it right the fuck now.

As I raise back to my full height again I look at him from his booted feet, jean-clad legs, t-shirt, and vest, to hard hat-covered head. He steps back as I step up onto the landing, crossing his arms over his chest. His muscles pop with the stance, and for a moment I can’t look away, but I clear my throat and look up at him.

“This certainly isn’t where I thought my day was going,” I admit.

His lips pinch. “Go ahead and say what you want to say already, Amelia. It’s written all over your face.”

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie. You asked me what I do, I told you I manage a company, and I do.”

“And you didn’t think it was important to let me know that we’re in the same city? Or, I don’t know, that we’re working in the same goddamned building?” My voice echoes through the stairwell as it rises in volume with my anger. I grit my teeth, knowing that I need to calm my shit but I can’t seem to get ahold of myself.

I’m unsure if I’m more mad at him or myself at this moment. Of course, the one damn time I let someone in it turns out he’s a liar and possibly a stalker. It’s just way too convenient that he’s working in my building and then suddenly runs into me at the convention. It leaves me wondering if him winding up at my table was a set up after all, and the situation with blondie was all just a ploy to get closer to me.

“I didn’t know that until last week when I finally took a moment to look at the pen I got from your table. What kind of man do you take me for?” He rubs a hand over his beard in frustration. “You never told me what city you were from. It’s not like I had any idea we’d run into each other again.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat, angry for an entirely different reason now. He’d known and had my number this whole time but still didn’t call. So I wasn’t good enough that he wanted to see me again, was that it? I was just some random woman he wanted to fuck and then move on from with absolutely no additional thought? I know that’s the intention we went into the situation with, but hearing it said out loud, and to my face no less, is like a slap to the face.

“I’m going to be late for work,” I bite out, already over this conversation.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Get angry because you lied to me?”

“No. Don’t act like I’m suddenly below you because of my job.”

I flinch at his words, squeezing my bag so hard my knuckles ache. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Bullshit, Amelia. Utter bullshit. This is exactly why I didn’t tell you the full truth. Your opinion of me changed so quickly. I don’t know why I’m even surprised. Women are all the same.”

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