Not that she was surprised. Wes might not have gone to college, but he’d always been the smartest guy she’d ever met. She’d known he was destined for big things, even back then.
“So how long have you wanted to take Soteria public?”
Wes frowned slightly, shook his head as he ran a thumb along the condensation on his beer. “I don’t. I like not having to answer to anyone. The freedom of being able to try things without the pressure of it having to turn massive profits.”
“Oh, sorry. For some reason I thought Jesse said...” Vivienne flicked her hand, dismissing the thought. “I was pretty distracted that day. Must’ve misunderstood.”
Wes stilled. “You saw Jesse?”
“I ran into him the other day in the men’s department at Neiman’s. He came over to say hi.”
There was something about the sudden tautness in his body as Wes crushed the lime wedge against the neck of his beer bottle before pushing it inside.
“It was a quick conversation,” she assured him, though she wasn’t quite sure why she felt the need to do so. “He was on his way to Whitfield Industries to try to woo Max into sticking with Soteria.”
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with him since the charges were dropped.”
“I’m sure he’s just really busy. He knows how much the company means to you.”
Wes nodded. Took a sip of beer. She was relieved that he looked more relaxed.
“So what were you doing at the men’s department at Neiman’s anyway?”
Vivienne cast around for a reason not to admit that she’d considered buying him clothes because his constant shirtlessness had been wearing down her attempts to keep her hands off him. Since she’d failed so spectacularly at the clothes buying and at keeping her hands to herself, the point was moot. In the end, she went with a classic subject change.
“The real question is, what was Jesse doing there? When was the last time that guy bought anything off the rack?”
Wes chuckled, relinquishing his beer when she reached for it—a habit so old and engrained that she hadn’t even realized she’d done it until the bottle was in her hand. “He does love to blow money on pretentiously expensive custom-made suits.”
“And country club memberships,” Vivienne added. “Vintage Corvettes. Rolexes.” Jesse had always loved a good status symbol. Or eight.
“And a luxury schooner.”
Vivienne’s eyes widened at the addition, Wes’s beer arrested halfway to her mouth. “He did not.” She took a long swallow. “Does he even sail?”
“No. He was at some auction and just wanted to outbid that douchey frat brother of his. The one who stole his girlfriend during spring break. Trina What’s-her-name. The heiress to the bagged salad fortune.”
Vivienne laughed as she handed back the Corona. “I remember that guy! He wore so much cologne.” She shook her head. “Jesse really bought a vengeance boat? That is a level of retribution I didn’t even know existed.”
A pretty raven-haired server with a high ponytail and the most perfectly winged eyeliner arrived with their tacos, and they both dug in with gusto.
Vivienne closed her eyes and hummed at the gustatory pleasure that was Señor Taco’s. “Oh, God. How have I stayed away from this place for so long?” she mumbled through the bite of heaven. “Still the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
Her heart clenched hard at his lazy white smile. “I’ll try not to take offense at that.”
The sexual innuendo slipped under her skin.
He turned back to his taco, giving her leg a teasing bump under the table, but her body misinterpreted the casual contact as something far more charged. Her muscles clenched at the jolt of heat that Wes so easily unleashed in her.
They people watched as they ate. It was a good crowd. Lots of college students, judging by the number of T-shirts with school logos on them.
Vivienne watched in fascination as a couple of UCLA students stole past them hand in hand, all flushed cheeks and furtive giggles. The fact that they thought they were being sneaky in their quest for a quickie had her rolling her eyes.
“Nice to know Señor Taco’s restrooms are still seeing their fair share of action.”
“Is that censure in your voice?” Wes shoved their empty plates to the middle of the table. “Because if I remember correctly, you and I were responsible for a good portion of that action.”
“That was a long time ago.”
Wes stared at her for a little too long, and she wondered exactly what he saw in the dim light. His voice was low when he spoke again. “Not that long ago. And action has its charm. Sometimes talking’s overrated.”
He shifted on his stool, and their shoulders touched. “Those two agree with me.”
Vivienne followed the tip of his chin to find that, at some point during their conversation, a few couples had migrated to the dance floor to take advantage of the sensuous Latin beat. She didn’t need to ask who he was talking about.
They were mesmerizing—practically glowing with sexual energy as they used dancing as a thinly veiled metaphor for foreplay. Their bodies moving in unison, brushing against one another, only to retreat before coming together again. It was absorbing, the illicit heat of them.
This time, Wes’s leg didn’t bump hers so much as slide along it, and Viv sucked in a breath at the unexpected contact that turned watching into something more visceral.
“You remember what that was like?”
His voice was husky, seductive, and it prickled along her spine like a touch.
“Being so into someone that you can’t think straight. That undeniable pulse of desire that makes you want to push the limits.”
Wes pushed his stool back a little, angling his big body toward her. “That overwhelming rush of lust that makes your skin come alive.”
She shivered when his thumb traced the length of her arm. Vivienne was definitely alive in that moment. It was like someone had plugged her into a
