Page 7 of Boss of Me
She laughs. “Something like that.”
Entranced, I gaze into her sparkling eyes. I could listen to her talk all day. When was the last time I felt that way about a woman?
“Where are you going to grad school?” I ask her.
“University of Texas.”
“My alma mater. Awesome.” The second the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve screwed up.
“Really?” Marlowe tilts her head to the side and regards me quizzically. “I could have sworn Barbara told me you went to Texas A&M.”
Shit,shit, shit!
“Are you sure that’s what she said?” I counter, trying to plant a seed of doubt in her mind. “People who aren’t from Texas, such as yourself, often get the two schools mixed up.”
She laughs sheepishly. “I’ve definitely done that a few times.”
I smile, relaxing a little because I’m off the hook.Close call.“Make no mistake, UT is in a class by itself.”
“I know,” she says with a twinkling smile. “It’s one of the top universities in the country. I can’t wait to start classes next month. Since you’re an alumnus, maybe you could recommend—” She’s interrupted by a loud musical ringtone coming from the purse hanging over the back of her chair.
Throwing me an apologetic smile, she grabs her handbag and rummages around for her phone. I wonder if her real date is calling to say he’s running late. I wonder if I’m about to be busted. I fucking hope not.
I find myself holding my breath as she checks her phone screen. The thought of relinquishing her to some finance prick bothers me more than it should.
She’s not yours to relinquish, my conscience reminds me.What you’re doing is crazy and totally out of character. You have to know it won’t end well.
Marlowe lifts her head to look at me. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”
“Sure.” My voice is deceptively smooth. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just need to, um, return this call.” She rises from her chair and flashes me a quick smile. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch her walk away, the dark curtain of her hair swaying with her stride. She has a great ass, high and round and spankable. And her legs are nice and long—long enough to wrap around my back while I thrust deep inside her.
As she passes the bar, my brother looks her up and down appreciatively, setting my teeth on edge. He leans all the way to the side to watch her strut down the hall to the restrooms. When she’s out of sight, he swivels around on his stool and mouths to me,Who’s the hottie?
None of your business, I mouth back.
He laughs and shakes his head.
Part of me feels guilty for keeping up the charade with Marlowe. I know it’s completely wrong, but I can’t seem to help myself. She’s the most captivating woman I’ve ever met and I want to get to know her better—even if that means lying to her a little longer.
I bring my glass to my mouth, watching as a curvy blonde sidles up to Maverick. When she leans close and purrs something in his ear, he promptly forgets about me.
As I drain my whiskey, laughter erupts from a table to my left. I absently glance over to see a group of women sharing a toast, clinking their glasses loudly. They’re in their early twenties and dressed in skimpy tops, short skirts and high heels.
Three of them catch my eye and smile invitingly. When I tip my head, they giggle and start whispering to the others, who turn to stare at me, batting their eyelashes and tossing their hair like some mating call.
On any other night, I would have ordered them a round of drinks and indulged in some harmless flirting. But there’s only one woman I’m interested in tonight, and she’s not sitting at that table.
Tracing the rim of my glass with my thumb, I casually glance in the direction of the bathrooms. It feels like Marlowe has been gone forever, though in reality it’s only been a few minutes. She’s probably on the phone with the real Dawson, telling him about the creepy psycho impersonating him. At this very moment she could be sneaking out the back entrance, getting as far away from me as possible.
And I wouldn’t blame her. Not one damn bit. I don’t deserve to spend another nanosecond in her presence.
But when she suddenly emerges from the back, I’m more relieved than a shipwreck survivor spotting a rescue boat.
I watch her come toward me, trying like hell to read her expression. She doesn’t look pissed, which is a promising sign.
