Page 3 of A Temporary Forever

“My eyes are here.” Celeste lowers her fork and points her fingers to her face.

Well, someone caught me. Fuck. But then, she hates me anyway, so why not have fun?

“Sorry, but your cleavage is inviting.”

“Cal!” Saar swats at me.

Celeste scoffs and pushes her plate away. “That doesn’t give you the right to blatantly glare at my boobs.”

“Oh, sweetheart, why did you dress like this, then?” Yep, I went there. And I called her sweetheart, because apparently tonight’s the night I completely lose my sense of propriety. Guess I left my manners at home.

Now Saar drops her cutlery. “Cal, what the fuck?”

But it’s not like I have a chance to score any brownie points here, so I shrug.

“I’m genuinely interested.” Not really, at the moment, but the issue is valid. “I mean, we’re friends here. Frankly, I don’t know any more when I can stare and when I can’t. Sometimes it feels that just by looking at my assistant when I speak to her, I might get slapped with a sexual harassment suit.”

And it’s true. I’ve never in my life made unwanted advances, but I’ve been accused of things—usually by women who are after my money.

I’m not discounting the prevalence or the disgusting nature of sexual harassment, but it’s annoying to be lumped in with my old man all the time.

I grew up with a father who routinely paid off women after he tired of them, or when they had no choice but to run to Human Resources.

My life is nothing like his, and yet often I’m judged for his actions.

Celeste raises her eyebrows slightly, but she quickly puts on the typical expression she wears around me. Like I’m an annoying mosquito.

“I wear this dress because I love it, and it makes me feel sexy and good. Because I love my body and feel comfortable in clothes like this.”

Fuck, that throatyrwhen she speaks. My cock twitches.

“Obviously,” I deadpan.

We glare at each other. I’m not even sure if I want to strangle her or bend her over this table and teach her a lesson. She dresses like prey, and I’m accused of being a predator.

I mean, I could have given her a compliment rather than stare. I didn’t even plan to stare. The woman is bad news as it is. I don’t need to pour oil into the fire.

“Okay,” Saar says. “Let’s go to the ladies’ while Cal orders another round of drinks and thinks about hisapology.” She jumps up as if her chair has burst into flames.

Celeste drops her linen napkin on the table, her long red nails grazing the fabric. With the lithe moves of a gazelle, she throws her arm over the backrest of her chair.

I watch with fascination as the red nails disappear. She leans back in a fluid motion and crosses one leg over the other.

And now I desperately want to see her performance tomorrow night. What the fuck?

“I’m good.” She smiles at my sister.

Saar groans. “Okay, but don’t fight or kill each other while I’m gone.” She stomps away.

Celeste tilts her head to the side, apparently expecting an apology. One that I owe her. But the stubborn bastard in me refuses to budge.

I lean forward, my eyes boring into her stony emerald gaze. “You’re sexy, Celeste. So damn sexy that the man in me, the animal, can’t help but respond. So if you choose to be sexy, then you need to understand your goddamn sexiness gets reactions.”

She smiles. She fucking smiles. She never does what I expect. Fuck, I don’t even know what I was expecting from her.

“No, Cal.” She glides her tongue over her lips. “What I, and frankly, society expect is that theopposite sex is intelligent enough to tame the animal, to apply common sense and good manners, and not to let the drooling caveman direct his actions.”

“So you don’t want my compliments?” Obviously she doesn’t, but playing this tug-of-words with her is more thrilling than I’d ever admit.

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