No, that can’t be right. He’s possibly one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen in real life, and I’m quite sure I’m not in his league. Gorgeous, successful New York businessmen don’t tend to find themselves interested in women like me. Jesus, I must be pretty drunk if I’m imagining that.
But drunk I am indeed, because next thing I find myself imagining is him lifting me up onto that table over by the mailboxes and sliding one of his big hands up my thigh. I shiver at the thought of it, my whole body flushing with heat.
Oh God. Drunk and horny is not a good combination.
I clear my throat, hoping my little fantasy is not evident on my face. And now we are standing, staring at each other in silence, and I can feel the tension gathering around us, thick and heavy.
Shit, say something.
“You, uh, don’t take Henry trick-or-treating?”
He shakes his head, pocketing his phone. “He goes with his uncle. They do a whole”—he gestures vaguely and scrunches his nose—“Star Wars thing.”
“Oh.” I can’t help but smile, picturing Henry dressed up as Yoda or something. How cute.
Michael narrows his eyes at me. “What are you doing lurking in the hallway at this time of night, anyway?”
I smirk. “Hoping to run into you, obviously.”
There’s a little twitch in his lip, a spark dancing in his eyes as they explore my face. For one crazy moment I actually think he’s going to laugh. But, no—he manages to suppress what is clearly a foreign and unnatural urge for him, his expression returning to neutral.
“I’m locked out.” I smooth my hands down over the tiny skirt of my costume, watching as his gaze follows them. It was sweet of Cat to make this for me, but I’ve had about enough of dressing up since arriving in this city. I smile to myself at the thought that I’ll never have to wear that hideous wedding dress again. Geoff is a lifesaver.
Michael cocks his head. “What are you so happy about?”
“Nothing. I just… I got a new job tonight. At a bookstore,” I add proudly.
He raises his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Which one?”
“Between the Lines.”
He nods, scrubbing a hand over his beard. His gaze lingers on me and I feel a spike of self-consciousness again. I attempt a casual laugh to cover it.
“And what have you been up to? Hot date?” I say, then immediately cringe. I don’t know why I’m trying to banter with him when the two interactions we’ve had have been nothing but awkward and unpleasant. Maybe I was trying to see if he could crack a smile. I’m sure he was close a moment ago.
Anyway, I’m quite certain he was at the office again, closing on a deal or something, given he’s still in his suit. That delicious suit.
“Something like that,” he mutters.
Oh.
I feel an unusual twinge in my chest, and it takes me a second to recognize it as envy. He might be grumpy as fuck, but lucky bloody woman.
“And you’re coming home alone?” I joke awkwardly. “Shouldn’t you be bringing her—” Shit! Abort! Abort! What the hell am I saying?
I stare at the ceiling, grimacing. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to be a normal person all of a sudden. When I risk a glance at Michael’s face, he’s regarding me with that same look of amusement in his eyes.
“She wasn’t really my type,” he says at last, loosening the button on his suit jacket. He drags a hand through his hair, messing it up. It’s longer on top, I notice, and God, it looks even better all tousled like that. What I wouldn’t give to thread my hands up into it.
Fuck. I should not be out in this corridor alone with him after drinking. I’m going to say something stupid and embarrass myself. Wait, I already have.
I force myself to clamp my lips together and just shut the hell up. My phone buzzes in my hand and I glance down to see a message from Cat saying she’s on her way home.
Good. Okay. Michael will leave in a second and until then I need to just zip it.
But he doesn’t leave. He’s still studying me, apparently debating whether or not to say anything more. Eventually, he lets out a long sigh. “It was a set-up. I don’t know why I bothered.”
I suppress an eye-roll. Honestly, this guy. First he makes someone else take his kid trick-or-treating so he can go on a date, and then she’s not good enough for him? No doubt he’s got exceedingly high standards and this poor—probably quite attractive—woman had no chance of meeting them. I feel indignant on her behalf.
“What was wrong with her? She wasn’t beautiful enough?”
“Oh, she was beautiful,” he says. “But that’s the problem. You women all think that if you’re beautiful you can get away with anything.”
A dart of irritation shoots through me, quickly chased by confusion. “Us women? Why am I being brought into this?”
“Because—” He rakes his eyes over me with a smirk, and I shrivel a little under his glare. I knew he was one of those men that didn’t respect women. It was clear from the start.
“You’re all the same,” he mutters, shaking his head. And before I can say anything in response, he steps past me, taking the stairs two at a time, until he’s out of sight.
And I’m left, for the second time this evening, staring after him in shock.
10
Romance.
Mel said I should find something I enjoy writing and do it. I’ve been lacking direction in my writing, feeling like I need something to help me focus, and a romance novel might be a good place to start.
I’ve wanted to write one for years—hell, I’ve read enough of them—but I’ve never had a good reason to
