Page 22 of Fairy Tale Lies
“Such as?”
“Her mother and stepfather are pricks. She was worried they’d do something to damage Marty’s business if they caught us together.” He grunted in satisfaction when the reel slid loose. He set it down and started on the next one.
“Yeah, I guess catching their patrician daughter in bed with the mover does play like bad porn.” Will chuckled, dodging the pair of pliers Jacob threw at him. “What’s the problem now?”
He sat on the edge of his desk, trying to separate his obligations from his desires. “Because now I’m working with her father. Mixing business and personal stuff is never a good idea. There’s no telling how Charles Meier would react to his daughter dating one of his lowly clients. Or what would happen when it crashed and burned between us.”
Hell, he wasn’t even sure Greta was interested. Getting a read on her was impossible. He’d never met a woman so apt at hiding her emotions. He’d catch a flicker, a glimpse that made him believe it wasn’t one-sided, then boom, she was impassive. A beautiful and cold marble statue.
“What makes you certain everything will turn bad?” Will asked.
“Remember Trisha?”
“I knew you’d mention her,” Will groaned. “Just because Greta and her family share the same zip code doesn’t mean they’re the same.”
“I dealt with Greta’s mother. Believe me, she’s the embodiment of wealthy snob. She disliked me and hadn’t even known what I’d been doing with her daughter.”
Her condescending attitude irked him. Freaking rich people.
“Plus, Greta told me we’re ‘too different’ to date. I’m assuming the difference is the zip code you mentioned. Our polar opposite upbringings.” Jacob needed to move and stood. “And, as I said, there’s Charles. He might not give a rat’s ass about my social status. Then again, he could. I’m finally able to open an actual brick and mortar shop. I don’t want to fuck it up over some woman.”
When they were together, she felt like more than “some woman” he had the hots for, but he wasn’t going to admit this to his brother. He barely acknowledged it to himself.
He stopped pacing and faced Will, catching his pained expression before he hid it. He still blamed himself for Rework’s past financial strains.
Before Jacob could refute Will’s guilt, he spoke. “You deserve this opportunity more than anyone I know. If you’re worried, back off. Find another pretty woman to mess around with. God knows it won’t be a problem for you.”
“I don’t want to ‘mess around’ with some other woman. I won’t with her either. Greta’s right, we’re wrong for each other. The draw is probably sexual chemistry, and nothing more, shit though, it’s strong.”
“TMI dude.” Will rose, brushing the front of his jeans before walking toward the door. “You’ve made a decision. Stick with it and get back to work. Isn’t your Micro-something due at the end of the week?”
“Yeah, it is.” Jacob sat, returning to his work and contemplations. He didn’t hear the door shut.
Chapter Eight
Walking through the halls of Swift Financial, Jacob’s steps were as steadfast as his decision. He’d be the embodiment of professionalism with Greta. He’d locked his attraction to her in a metal box and shoved it into a dark, dusty corner of his mind.
Yes, he wanted her and maybe even had a chance, but the odds of it leading anywhere were slim to none. She was right; they were too different. It’d be stupid to risk pissing off her father and gambling with the well-being of Rework.
His staunch resolve lasted all the way to the IT office.
Until he caught sight of Greta, sitting alone and lost in her work. She was so damn beautiful. Her soft auburn hair was in a loose bun, showing off her long, slender neck. The sight beckoned him to run his fingers along the exposed skin.
She turned from her computer, offering a shy smile and a mug of coffee. “Allen told me you’d be in right after lunch. Not sure if you drink it this late in the day, but here.” She handed him the cup. “Two creams, one sugar, right?”
He faltered. “You remembered?”
She shrugged. “I’ve a good memory for details.”
He did too. When it came to her.
He could recall basic stuff, like her fondness for American classics and modern-day romance novels, while other recollections were scorched into his memory with a soldering iron. Like the birthmark under her left breast or the incredibly erotic whimper she’d made when her orgasm built.
Shoving those unhelpful memories aside, he silently repeated his professional oath and took the empty chair next to her. “Where are Allen and Rae?”
“They’re around. Should be back anytime.”
He glanced over in time to catch the wicked glint in her eyes.
