Page 28 of Don't Game Me
Emma rattled off the international number. “Are you at the office?”
That was a land mine. With his promise to Noah about work he didn’t want to put Emma in an awkward situation. She’d never rat him out on purpose. If Noah found out he’d feel like a shit. But this level of feeling like a shit wouldn’t equal that after the catastrophe of Noah finding out he’d kissed his sister.
Still, he wasn’t defending himself to his assistant. “We’re eating lunch at the office. See you guys later.”
“New chairs?” Becca shifted around in one of the designer white cloth and metal chairs positioned into a square around a coffee table in front of his desk.
He nodded. The modern design chairs weren’t his choice, but their image consultant thought his office needed an upgrade several months ago. Its new streamlined look supposedly broadcast the rhythm of new century modern. He found the overpriced furniture stiff, impersonal, and ugly as hell, even if it was supposedly ergonomic. When he had time, he’d get the old stuff back.
As with everyone who sat in the particular chair she’d chosen, Becca discovered it was unforgiving and hit her back at a funny angle.
She settled onto the edge of the seat. He wanted to rip off those jeans and kneel in front of her. His tongue would slide past her underwear and lick until she lost control. He locked his jaw.
No. A cold shower and your hand are the closest you’ll get.
“So, what’s your guess on the ETA of lunch?” Her stomach grumbled loudly. She offered him an apologetic smile. “I skipped breakfast, and I forgot my coffee on my parents’ kitchen counter.”
“I’m hoping soon.” His tone came out tight.
“I’m sorry for the argument in the car. Let’s forget about that and what happened last night. Let’s have lunch and get to the rehearsal.”
“Not sure forgetting yesterday or the parking lot will be an option.” He wouldn’t forget their kisses. His body clamored for contact with her. To kiss her again. To act out his fantasy with her in the chair.
Her eyes dilated, and she licked her lips. Subconscious acquiescence of their attraction? She’d fight him if he tried anything right now. Or maybe not. One or two deep kisses, if he made them dirty kisses, considering the combustible nature of their chemistry, and she’d melt.
His habit of spitting out odds kicked in. If he initiated, this was far more trouble than he needed.
She scowled.
He sighed. “I’ll make this call, and then we’ll have lunch.”
“Great.” She gave him a tolerant smile. “You want me to grab some drinks from Noah’s fridge? If I recall, you never keep food or drinks in your office.”
“I’ll take a water. Thanks.” He dialed Germany.
The flutter in Becca’s belly in reaction to Jake’s declaration he wouldn’t forget their kisses grew. Something about kicking Jake’s ass and laughing with him while playing the game opened a floodgate of flustered and bizarre emotion she couldn’t label. His unguarded moments this afternoon proved him a pretty daggone cool guy, one she could laugh with.
But the flutter soured to pain. She didn’t deserve laughter with him. This was her moment to use the fake phone to connect with an office computer. She could do it in Noah’s office.
She couldn’t do this.
She had to.
No, she didn’t.
She chickened out.
Becca scurried out of Jake’s office, taking deep gasps of air in front of the elevator. Breathing didn’t get easier on the ride up a floor to her brother’s office. Tears prickled her eyes as she walked the long hallway to Noah’s office. She swiped them away.
She couldn’t do it. Failure settled in her stomach and spread out like a sponge. She shivered even though it wasn’t cold in the office and wrapped her arms around herself.
Get drinks. Back to Jake’s office. Focus.
She didn’t remember getting drinks or riding down in the elevator, but when she almost collided with a twenty-something petite girl carrying four extra-large paper bags, her haze cleared. Her nose alerted her lunch had arrived. The girl wore no makeup, and she’d pulled most of her frizzy brown hair into a ponytail. Tight workout pants for work? At her internship, Becca never dared workout pants. She wouldn’t be caught dead in public in workout clothes unless she was traveling between the car and gym, not that she could afford to belong to a gym. This girl exemplified hot mess.
“Are you Kylie?” Becca asked.
The girl’s eyes widened. She nodded.
