Page 32 of Heated
“And by other things, I’m guessing you mean white,” I calmly add, though the irritation stirring in me is anything butcalm.
“Since you put it out there. You’ve already said there are only five women in your firm. I’m almost afraid to ask the percentage of Black or nonwhite associates. So needless to say, I’m not encouraged to believe your coworkers will accept thedifferencesthat exist between me and Val. Significant differences. Enough that your colleagues would either think I was a plant, the rebound chick, or, worse, a random fuck you’re trying to pass off as the new girlfriend. You’re better off finding another Val look-alike for the retreat.”
“I don’t want a Val look-alike. I want you.”
I want you.
The three words vibrate and shimmer between us like vapors of steam rising off a damp sidewalk after the blazing sun rises to its zenith in the sky. Hot and damn near visible. I should qualify it, explain what I mean by it, but I don’t. I just leave the provocative statement hanging out there like dirty laundry between us, daring her to take it however she desires.
“Why should I?” she whispers. “Why would I ever enter into this ... arrangement?”
I, again, prop an elbow on the armrest that separates us, leaning forward until her honey-and-almond scent teases me.
“You think I don’t see the guilt in those pretty eyes, Zora?” I murmur, cocking my head, drinking in every feature of that beautiful face before coming back to her gaze. “I’m not going to need to force you, to coerce you. All that guilt swimming inside you is going to do the jobfor me. I could remind you again of how you owe me. But you want to make it up to me, don’t you?” I lean closer, drop my voice even lower. “I bet part of you wants me to force your hand too. Do what? Threaten to tell Val how her little messenger failed on the job if you don’t come through? Ruin that so-called friendship you two have going?” I narrow my gaze on her, catch the slight tightening of her mouth, the flash of emotion in her eyes. Straightening, I shake my head. “Yes, I think a small part of you would like that, Zora. So it would absolve you of having to make the decision. It might even absolve you of that guilt swimming in your belly. But I won’t. I’m not taking the same choice away from you that you and Val took from me. Your decision. Are you going with me to the retreat? Do we have an agreement or not?”
Her inner conflict wars across her face. Indecision, anger, hurt, and, yes, shame.
“What are your terms?” she quietly asks.
Satisfaction and triumph pour through my veins like liquid gold, trumping the biggest case I’ve won in court and the wealthiest and challenging contract I’ve negotiated.
“No more Val. You’re mine now.”
Her full lips part, and she slowly straightens in her chair. Another myriad of emotions march across her face—shock, confusion, suspicion, back to confusion.
“Excuse me? You want me to be your ... what? Pretend fiancée? Friend?”
Yeah, I don’t blame her for requiring clarification. She’s not the only one who’s surprised at my decidedly possessive declaration. I had no idea that was coming out of my mouth, either, until it echoed between us. But it’s out there. And the longer it sits there, the more certain I am this is what I want.
Mine.
That’s it. Pretend fiancée. Friend. Whatever I need to make it through this fucked-up charade I’m asking both of us to play.
This isn’t about lust. Oh, I still want her. The thick length pressing against my zipper attests to that. But I can easily find a woman to fuck. Not being an asshole; it’s just the truth. But I’ve never had a woman simply as a friend, much less a fake fiancée. But as I stare at her, Jordan’s words from earlier haunt me, and I want more. I want someone to give me advice on her beautiful but complicated sex. Someone to help me not to be such a rigid, well ... asshole. Because I’m in panic mode. Val was my plan A, and I didn’t have a B. If I’m going to go into the next long-term relationship and make it last—if I’m going to get my own laid-out plans for my life back on track—I’ll need to do it differently this time.
My partnership at the firm depends on it.
My immediate goals depend on it.
My promises to my parents depend on it.
Bottom line, I need her friendship and her acting skills more than her pussy.
“Yes.” I answer her question, setting my coffee on the floor next to hers. Like second nature, I smoothly slide into negotiation mode. “Here are the terms. First, you end any and all contact with Val. I can’t have a double agent in my camp.”
“Seriously?”
She thrusts a hand through her curls, and though I just convinced myself I need her cooperation more than sex, that doesn’t stop me from wanting to bat that hand away and assume its place. It doesn’t require too much imagination to feel the phantom caress of those thick strands over my palm, between my fingers, and over the backs of my hands. A little coarse but silken. Soft yet textured.
Your rules,I remind myself, curling my fingers into my thigh.And you just made them five fucking seconds ago.
“Seriously. And I don’t care what you tell her to make it happen. Just make it happen.”
After a long moment, she gives an abrupt nod. “What else?”
“If we’re going to pull this ...” Hell, words fail me at the moment on what to call it. “Off and convince people we are a real couple, then we need to spend time together. A lot of time since we only have a month. So I can’t have you reneging on me later out of some misguided loyalty to Val.”
“Hold on.” She throws up a hand, palm out. “What exactly does that mean? ‘Spend time together.’ So if you call and want a playdate and I can’t make it, what happens? Do you follow through on that threat to tell Val that I screwed up? That’s not fair. I have a life. Family. Real friends. Suddenly rearranging my life so you’re the center of it isn’t easy or reasonable.”
