What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not usually this…perverse.
It’s just honestly, are all interior designers built like goddesses?
Long legs for miles and asses that always look like tight perfection in a pencil skirt.
Jaxson should’ve warned me, but I doubt the man has eyes for anyone else but his wife.
Whipped motherfucker.
This woman’s light strawberry hair cascades down her back and the red belt wrapped around her waist brings back the memories of the girl from the other night.
Red.
Maybe this is what has me all bent out of shape because that woman has been haunting me and my dreams for the last two nights, and I don’t know who she is or even understand what it is about her that gets me going. All I know is by Sunday night I realized it was her I wanted more of and not the alcohol.
I touch the woman’s shoulder wanting to grab her attention and she screeches. The pencil from her hand dives to the floor as she spins around to face me, and her hand goes flying over her heart.
Green eyes widen in shock and she gapes at me like a fish.
Those green eyes I can’t get out of my mind.
It’s her! My red! How the fuck is this possible?
My eyes drift down every inch of her delectable body, but I quickly come back to reality when I realize I’m not dreaming. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, Red.”
“It’s Holly, actually,” she croaks and brushes her hands down her skirt. Her eyes remain on mine.
“You wouldn’t happen to also be Miss Jenkins, would you?” She nods, still staring at me. “Do you not talk now? I already told you the other night, I don’t bite.” I chuckle, yet I’m starting to feel uncomfortable by her reaction. I know I’m surprised to see her again, but why does she always look so shell shocked to see me?
“It’s not that,” she mumbles.
“Then what’s going on? Second time I run into you and you’re still looking at me like you’re starstruck. Last I checked, I’m not really high on the popularity list.”
Unless she reads Forbes.
Her mouth snaps shut, as she seems to realize she’s gawking at me and shakes off whatever the hell she’s thinking. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. It’s just...we’ve met before.”
“I know, Friday night.”
She blows out a puff of air that makes her bangs fly up. “No. It was years ago. You left a bit of a mark on me.” Her eyes close as if she’s realizing what she is saying.
“We have?” I stare at her, questioningly. Her face and body aren’t ringing any bells.
I feel like she’d be one I would remember, considering for the last two days the image of her hasn’t left my thoughts.
“Yeah, it was about three years ago. At the convention center downtown. Comic Con. You were dressed as Thor.”
“And who were you dressed as?” I smirk.
“Myself.” She tilts her head, smiling. “We met at the bar downstairs.”
“Oh…” It clicks. Three years ago, I was high as a kite on pain pills and alcohol. Even the best sex of my life I’m sure I washed down the drain with opioids and alcohol. “Got it.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry, I don’t remember.” I rub the stress wrinkles on my forehead.
Her cheeks heat and she looks away, embarrassed. “Right. I’m sure I’m just one of many faces,” she mumbles and turns to play with some papers on the table.
“Ouch,” I feign hurt at her backhanded comment, but it would be the truth.
“Sorry.” She blushes, just as red as her belt, and I know I have aptly nicknamed her. “Listen, I’m not upset or anything or disappointed. Just a lot happened that night...besides…just us...and it made the evening very memorable.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a long story.” She waves her hand and her eyes dart around the room, refusing to look at me. “But let’s say the events led to a huge impact on my life.”
I reach out and touch her shoulder and she shivers in response; I believe more from her anxiety than lust. “That’s why you were acting all funny the other night?” She nods and chews on her bottom lip. “I’m sure if my head was in the right spot three years ago, I would remember you,” I say sincerely.
“I believe that.” I’d like to believe it too. “You were super out of it and had trouble remembering your name.”
She hit the head on the nail for the old Liam. The one in a drug and alcohol induced haze.
“That sounds like me. Listen, why don’t we start over?” I ask, wanting to shut down the awkwardness circling around us.
“Start over?”
“Yes, start over. Unless what happened between us affects how you could work for me.”
Her eyes dart to the carpet fibers on the floor, and I can tell she’s debating my question. It spikes my curiosity, but she quickly glances up at me and smiles. “No. It’ll be fine.”
“Great. You’ll be working with me for the next four to six months, and I want to get off on the right foot with you. You came highly recommended by Jaxson, and I trust his judgment, therefore I trust yours to get this job done for me.”
“Yeah, of course. Sure." She clears her throat and tucks her hair behind her ear.
"Great. Now just also promise me you won't tell anyone about the Thor thing."
She giggles softly and finally manages to look me in the eyes again. "You mean your employees don't know their boss dresses up as some Norse god for just the fun of it?"
"Definitely not."
The only person that knows in this office is Sam and, well, now her.
"Don't worry, your secret is safe with
