Page 21 of Stuffed

"Why not?" She reaches up, straightening my tie. The casual intimacy of the gesture makes my chest tight. "Because I'm not that teenager anymore, Zane. I know what I want."

"And what's that?"

"You." Simple. Direct. Devastating. "I want you to stop pretending you don't want me too."

I catch her hand against my chest. "It's not that simple."

"It could be." She steps closer, and I let her. "If you'd just?—"

A knock at the door makes us jump apart. My assistant pokes her head in. "Mr. Mercer? Your ten o'clock is here."

"Thank you, Clara." My voice sounds strangled. "I'll be right out."

Tessa's already gathering her things, cheeks flushed. "I should go."

"Tessa—"

"No, it's fine." She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Thank you for reviewing everything."

She's at the door when I call out, "Dinner."

She turns. "What?"

"Have dinner with me." The words rush out before I can stop them. "Tonight. Let me explain…"

"Explain why you keep running?" But she's smiling now. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Pick me up at eight." She adjusts those damn glasses one more time. "And Zane?"

"Yeah?"

"Wear something nice."

She's gone before I can respond, leaving me with the lingering scent of vanilla and the certainty that I'm completely, utterly screwed.

"Smooth," Asher says from the doorway. "Real smooth."

"Shut up."

"You know she planned all that, right? The glasses, the desk thing?—"

"I have a meeting."

"The way she?—"

"Goodbye, Asher."

His laughter follows me down the hall, along with the memory of Tessa's smile. Of her challenge.

Eight o'clock can't come fast enough.

Chapter 7

Tessa

"He actually asked you to dinner?" Ivy is sprawled across my bed while I tear through my closet. "Our brooding Mr. Mercer made the first move?"

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