“Sure. You ready now?”
“Yes.” She wraps her hands around the coffee I hand her, adding sugar and cream. “Sorry. I should have asked you last night.” She clears her throat. Brings the cup to her lips for a sip.
“It’s not a problem. Sleep well?”
She coughs, a choke almost as if her drink goes down wrong.
“Rachel, are you okay?”
“Fine.” She holds up a hand to keep me from coming close. “Fine. Sorry.” She turns and walks back toward the hall. “I’m just gonna grab my bag and we can go.”
Weird. I glance down at Walter. “That was weird, right?”
He shimmies in place, anxious for more attention. I crouch down and scratch along his back, trying for the life of me to figure out the source of Rachel’s odd behavior. She’s admittedly not much of a morning person—this I already know. But she’s never been so uncomfortable. Was it something I said? I can’t think of anything.
Rachel returns with her bag and coffee, heading straight to the front door without a look. I harness Walter and jog after her, catching up before she hits the elevator call button. Normally, we’d exchange a few words. A glance and a smile. Something. But today she’s uncharacteristically silent, and the quiet stretches in discomfort. I want to ask what’s wrong, but I don’t want to offend her, or bring up something she’s obviously unwilling to talk about, so I stay quiet.
If she’s upset, she’ll tell me about it when she’s ready.
Patience. Understanding. These are traits women look for in a partner. Or so I’ve been told. I need to wait for her. The same way I’ve been waiting for her to change our relationship status from friends to lovers.
So I drive and wait, and wait, and wait. She doesn’t say a word. Not to me. Not even to Walter.
I should be awarded a fucking medal of perseverance. Still, she doesn’t even look at me.
Praise the Lord, traffic is light, and as I exit the off-ramp near the studio, my phone rings. Saved by the bell! Only, I’m not. Pierce’s name flashes on the caller ID and I immediately send him to voicemail. No way in hell I’m taking one of his calls on speaker again.
I pull into the lot and pull to a stop before the entry, as I have every day this week.
Rachel reaches for the door.
“Hey, Rachel.” I reach out and touch her forearm. I should persist with the patience thing, but it will eat me up all day if she leaves without saying something.
“Yeah?” She pulls her arm away, reaching for her bag, but the fact she’s no longer exiting like a woman on the run calms my nerves.
“Have a great day. Okay?”
Her eyes lift to mine, and her lips part before she presses them into a smile. “Yeah, thanks. You too.” It’s the most I’ve gotten all morning. I’ll take it.
Once she’s out of the SUV and I’m back on the road, I return my missed call. “Hey, Pierce.”
“Jude! My man.”
I’m not his man. I paste on a smile so I’ll sound friendly. It’s a trick my mom taught me when I was younger, and it works. “What can I do for you?”
“I need my dungeon.” There’s a shuffle through the line, and then the bang of a door shutting. “What’s the status?”
“The contractors will be in next week. You’ve already met with the interior designer.” I know he liked the custom spanking table because I sent him photos as soon as I had it safely stored. Does he want me to check in with every little update? Hold his dick? Probably. “I promise the finished project is going to blow your mind.”
“I hope it blows more than my mind.” He chuckles.
He’s such a tool. “We’re on target and budget.”
“Did you meet with the club like I asked? The one in Pasadena?”
No. I hoped that was merely a suggestion. Good thing I built in a decent bonus to my quote, because Pierce is going to suck up all my attention with this job. “I should be able to stop by this weekend.”
“Great, man. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
Definitely not. I have no intention of visiting during operating hours. Might be able to talk the owner into a private tour. I’ll call them as soon as I’m back in my office. Not that any tour would be for my pleasure. Which gives me an idea . . . “Hey, I have to run, but I’ll keep you posted on any updates.” I say good-bye and concoct a risky but possibly genius plan.
29
Rachel
The ride to work with Jude was the most awkward and uncomfortable yet. All because I couldn’t meet his gaze without thinking of his penis. And once I started thinking about his dick, I couldn’t help wanting to touch it, and myself, and jump his bones. Fuck. Not good. Not good at all. This weekend is going to be excruciating.
“What’s with you today?” De’Shaun whispers from where we stand back from one of the sets. We spent all morning beautifying the actors for a day of filming, and now it’s a waiting game until they need us next.
“Sorry. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Honey . . .” He stares, his brows lifting high. “We’ve been here for four hours and you are just now telling me this! Spill the tea, sis! I want all the dirty details.”
“It’s not that.” At least, not in the way he thinks. I try not to pout.
“Aw, tell De’Shaun your problems.”
“It’s nothing.” If you consider catching your temporary roomie jerking off with your name on his lips nothing. A spike of arousal heats my cheeks with a blush. “I should be focused on other things.”
“Girl, don’t lie to me. I’ll harass you until you dish, so you might as well get it over with.”
“You know how I’m staying with a friend?”
“The rich dude who rescued you off the freeway, then invited you to live in his castle?” He sighs, then rolls his eyes.
