Page 7 of Exposed to You

“Usually I wouldn’t encourage you to date an older man, but Dallon King is a good guy. He’s very philanthropic—he volunteers a lot and gives to charity. He’s also very well respected and talented.”

That doesn’t necessarily make him an angel, I thought, but I kept my opinion to myself.

“A lot of the men in that business can be dicks, but he seems different.”

Does he? Well, sorry to disappoint you, Jeremy, because that is exactly what he is.

“And it’s really impressive that he started his own boutique firm at such a young age.”

I considered changing his nickname to King Dick, but quickly decided against it—he’d probably turn it into a compliment.

“All right,” Jeremy said and put up his hands, “I can tell that I haven’t convinced you. How about we change the topic to something else?”

“I’d like that,” I said, and only half meant it. I was dying to ask what else he knew about Dallon King, but at the same time, I really needed to stop thinking about him. For my health.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” Jeremy smiled. “We’ve just been on a few dates, but I think I might be into her. She works with me.”

“Nice!” I said, genuinely happy for him. “What’s her name?”

“Isobel. I think you’d really like her. We’re going out with a few friends tomorrow. Send me a text if you want to come.”

“I will.”

Maybe I’d meet a nice, normal guy there, I thought. A lawyer with sexier eyes than King Douche and doesn’t own a camera.

Chapter Five

The next day I was working the closing shift. I’d texted Jeremy to let him know I’d call after my shift was done. A half hour before close, Jackson told me he had to make a quick call and went into the back. He’d done this on more than one occasion and the calls were never quick, but I didn’t care. The cafe was empty except for a couple in the corner. They’d asked for refills twice and would most likely stay until close. It seemed like they were in a heated discussion about something, and more than once I’d seen the girl tear up.

I was watching them when the bell above the door rang. I turned to greet whoever entered but my smile froze on my face, my breath caught.

“Oh shit.”

I hadn’t realized I’d said it until he smiled. It was a smile of amusement, one side of his mouth lifting up into a smirk.

“Pretty much the reception I was expecting,” he said, sauntering in with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He was wearing black jeans tucked casually into boots and a grey dress shirt under his jacket. His dark hair was falling onto his forehead and he had the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow.

He was stupidly sexy. I really wish I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t deny it. Stupidly sexy and a complete jerk. I stood rooted to my spot behind the cash register, watching him approach, my hands grasping the ties of my apron.

“How?” I said in a voice I was surprised he could hear.

“Your friend...” he thought about it for a moment, waved his hand absently. “Jeremy. Nice kid.”

Jeremy. I was going to kill him.

Dallon King stopped in front of the counter and looked down at me with his smug smile. “He said that you missed me. Were losing nights of sleep just thinking about me.”

“He did not.”

He chuckled. “No, he said you’d told him about me. Said I should come by and see where you work. You’re not upset are you?” He made a sad face that might have been funny if I weren’t completely on edge. I couldn’t deny it; as much as I hated him, it was a rush just being in his presence.

“What are you doing here, Mr. King?”

“What do you think? And call me Dallon. We’re not in a working relationship.” His tone grew hard at the last sentence, and I swallowed.

“So, you’re a server now,” he said, smiling with one side of his mouth. He tilted the basket of cookies toward him, rummaged through and pulled out a peanut butter one.

“Yes, do you have a problem with that?” I asked, smiling prettily.

“None at all,” he smiled easily. “Though, I wish you were serving me.”

It took me a moment to understand his meaning. “What?”

“What?” he asked back, wide-eyed. Mocking me.

I glared at him. “I’m not a prostitute.”

“So you’ve mentioned. And I’m not a John, despite what you think.”

I bit my tongue and crossed my arms, waiting for him to get to the point of his visit. As if reading my mind, he narrowed his eyes and his tone turned serious.

“We need to talk. I’m used to getting what I want, Amy. Your email didn’t scare me out of contacting you again, as I’m sure you’ve figured out, but I didn’t appreciate it.”

His eyes bore into mine and I almost gulped. I looked toward the back of the cafe. Why was Jackson taking so long?

“I think you should apologize.”

I whipped my head back to Dallon, my mouth agape. “I think you should apologize!”

“Interesting,” he said, unwrapping the cookie and then biting into it, licking his lips sensually. “I believe we’re at a standstill.”

I glared at him. “Well I’m sorry you’re used to getting what you want and I know your act probably works on every other female in the world, but—”

“My act?” He cut me off, frowning.

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, your act. Acting all arrogant and sexy and practically demanding that women have sex with you.” I lowered my voice at the last bit.

“This isn’t demanding. Believe me, you’d know demanding.”

“Whatever. The point is I just see you for who you really are: an arrogant bastard that doesn’t care about anyone else.”

He stepped back, and I was pretty sure I had actually wounded him. “Jeez, you’re vicious. And here I thought yo

u were the timid new graduate that wanted to please me.”

My cheeks heated and I balled my hands into fists, took a deep, steadying breath. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” he winked, “but for now I’ll just take a coffee.”

“You’re staying?”

“Yeah. Why not?” He slapped a five down on the counter saying, “Keep the change”, and then strolled over to an empty table, where he sat down and picked up a discarded newspaper.

I picked up a mug, my hands shaking with anger or nervousness, maybe both. All we had left at that time of the night was the medium brew. I filled his coffee and carried it over to him.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the mug without looking at me. Apparently he was now engrossed in the newspaper. As soon as I was back at the counter, however, he asked quite loudly, “So did you find a place to live?”

I nodded.

“That’s great news. Whereabouts?”

Clenching my jaw, I returned to his table so that I didn’t have to talk across the cafe in front of the couple. “I’m not telling you that.”

He cocked his head to the side. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

I sighed. “What do you want, Mr. King? I mean, why are you here?”

“I said to call me Dallon. Sit, and I’ll tell you.”

Right then, Jackson came out from the back.

“So sorry. I just had to call a buddy about tonight,” he said. He looked from me to Dallon King and back. I could feel the tension radiating from us, and the look on Jackson’s face said he felt it, too.

“Maybe I’ll start cleaning up,” I said, moving to return to work.

“No, you visit your friend. I’ll start,” Jackson said, turning his back to me before I could give him the evil eye. He began pulling pastries from the display case, conveniently avoiding my look.

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