by Megan Hart
She looked at him watching her. "What?"
"It's just . . ." He stopped himself.
Simone looked at him, the mug held in both her hands. A kind of understanding dawned in her eyes. She looked at the cupboard doors, several of them still hanging open. Then the mug in her hands.
"Oh. Guidelines," she said.
Elliott walked past her to shut the cupboard drawers, the sound of each a lot louder than he'd intended. When he turned, she'd settled herself at the table. She turned the mug around, around and around. He didn't sit across from her. He stayed standing at the counter.
"I'm very particular," Elliott said.
Simone laughed. "Baby, I know that. You like things a certain way. You're very precise."
"I've lived alone for a long time, that's all. It's my house. I like it to be the way I like it."
"Nothing wrong with that. I like my house the way I like it, too." She paused, looking around, then back at him. "How long have you lived here? I asked you last night, but you never answered."
He hadn't on purpose, because answering it would require explaining other things he didn't want to get into. "A long time."
"Was it your parents' house?"
He hesitated before replying; she was so freaking astute. "My stepmother's house."
"You lived here when you were a kid?"
"No. Not until I was seventeen."
"That's still a kid," Simone said.
Elliott frowned, thinking about being seventeen. He hadn't felt like a kid. "I didn't grow up in this house, if that's what you meant. I moved here when I was seventeen and lived here until after college. I bought it from my stepmother after my father went away."
"Where did he go?" Elliott didn't answer her. To give her credit, Simone got the hint. She shrugged. "Families are always messy business."
That was an understatement. He looked around the kitchen, trying to see it through her eyes. It was outdated. Worn. The appliances in Harvest Gold, the wallpaper covered with wagon wheels and the silhouettes of covered wagons.
"I used to have a place on the river," he said, uncertain why he was revealing that to her.
Simone looked impressed. "Nice. Swanky. How come you moved back home?"
"It's not . . ." It wasn't home, not exactly. "Well, I owned it, so why pay rent? And I didn't want to leave it empty. Didn't want to rent it. I figured I'd fix it up and sell it, but I just haven't gotten around to it."
He braced himself for the questions about why the house was empty, what had happened to his stepmother. Why it wasn't "home." But Simone didn't ask him that. Instead, she gave him one of those slow, sexy smiles that rose the hairs on the back of his neck and made him remember the sounds she made when she came on his tongue.
"So your guidelines are, don't mess up stuff in your house. That's just a matter of respect, Elliott. I can handle that. I'm kind of a slob, but I can be careful. I'm not," she added, "a total dick either."
He wasn't about to tell her that she was the only woman he'd brought to this house since he'd been in college. She'd smile if he said it. Maybe she'd comment, maybe she wouldn't. But then she'd know, and it would give her the wrong impression, that somehow this was something more than it was.
"I don't like dating," Elliott said bluntly.
It took a little longer for her to reply to that one, and for a moment he was sure he'd made her angry again. Then Simone sipped coffee and smiled, at first tentatively. Then brightly.
"At least not more than once or twice," she said.
"I don't want a relationship. Long-term. I haven't ever been good at it, and I don't do well with someone else asking things of me."
Simone frowned. "Barry asks things of you."
"Relationship things," Elliott said. "The kinds of things you're supposed to do with a girlfriend. I don't do them. I don't like to do them."
"You don't like to be kind or generous or loving?" Simone asked quietly.
"I don't think I am kind or generous or loving."
Her brows went up at that, but she didn't say anything.
"I mean things that women want. Like flowers. Or spending time together. I like my space."
"Well, if you must know, I hate cut flowers. They're a ridiculous waste of money, and I'd rather have a box of expensive chocolates. And I like my space, too, Elliott. Listen . . . we've been together a few times. I'm not asking you to be my boyfriend." She looked irritated, but focused again on the coffee before smoothing her expression. "You know, it is possible for a woman to be okay with just fucking someone every once in a while without all that other stuff. Especially when the sex is so great."
He smiled at that. "It's that great, huh?"
"Elliott," Simone said, "I never pictured you as a guy who needed his ego stroked."
"How did you picture me?"
She studied him for a moment, then smiled. "Powerful business man. Wears a suit and tie every day to work, and they always fit you like you've had them tailored just for you, but they're the same ones. You have what, seven?"
"Six. You counted them?"
"No. I just paid attention. Made a guess." She sipped her coffee.
"You paid attention to me."
Something shifted in her gaze for a moment. "You're a hard man not to notice. We rode the elevator a lot of times before you ever paid attention to me."
That was the truth, and he felt bad about it now. "I'm not just a suit and tie."
"I know that, too."
They stared at each other for a few long, silent moments. "I should have noticed you before that night I took you to Barry's party."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Yes. You should've. But did you ever think that maybe I never wanted you to, before?"
"Is that true?"
"Maybe," she said, like she was considering the truth of her own words. "Or maybe the universe had never conspired to bring us together until that point. Did you think of that?"
"The universe." He laughed and poured his now-cold coffee down the sink. "You need a freshener?"
"Yes, please."
He poured them both new cups, adding cream but no sugar to hers. She watched him and took the mug. She sipped.
"You paid attention," Simone said in a low voice.
She sounded surprised, which in turn surprised him. "I'm not a total dick, you know."
"No," she said with a small smile. "Not totally."
"Do you always say what you think?"
Simone shook her head and tucked a fringe of hair behind her ear. She pulled her knee toward her chest with her toes curling over the edge of the chair and exposing the graceful lines of her bare thigh. She stared into her coffee cup, so he didn't have to worry she'd catch him staring at the shadow between her legs, hoping to catch a glimpse of that private place.
"Not always." She shrugged. "But I try to be honest. There's hardly ever any point in not saying what you think, unless what you think is deliberately hurtful. And if you hide what you think and don't say it, how can you ever expect anyone to give you what you want or need? Unless you ask for it? C'mon, Elliott. You ask for things. I bet most of the time, you get them, don't you?"
"Yes. In business. Yes, I almost always do."
Her gaze held his over the rim of her mug as she sipped. "But not in your personal life?"
"I get what I ask for there, too."
"Are we back to the guidelines?"
He knew whatever he said was going to piss her off or come out sounding mean, but she had just finished saying there was no point in not saying what you thought or felt. "I'm going to hurt you, Simone."
"I hope so," she said. "I told you, I like it."
His cock stirred at the throaty tone of her voice. He tried not to smile, but dammit, everything about her made him break his control. "That's not the kind of hurt I meant."
She stood, scraping the chair back on the linoleum. On bare feet, one in front of the other like a dancer, she padded toward him. She slid her hands up his chest to link behind his
neck. Her warmth pressed him. Her makeup had smudged, her hair was a mess, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her.
"I'm a big girl," she told him. "I know what I'm doing."
"I'm warning you. That's all," he managed to say without his voice breaking too much.
Simone pushed up on her toes to brush her lips against his. "Warning heeded. I get it. You don't want a girlfriend and you're a freak about people messing with your stuff. You're not always a dick, but you will be sometimes and you won't apologize for it because you're just a cranky grouch, and that's who you are."
"Yes," Elliott said against her mouth, his hands finding the sweetness of her ass and grinding her closer to him. "That's about right."
"Fuck me anyway," Simone said, and he was lost.
Chapter 22
Four voice mails from Aidan. A dozen or so texts. An e-mail. And now, Simone thought, surprised and irritated but also flattered, he was instant messaging her.
Don't keep ignoring me. I see you're online. Pick up the fucking phone and talk to me.
With a sigh that felt like it had been dredged up from the tips of her toes, Simone thumbed Aidan's contact listing. The phone barely rang before he answered it, but he didn't say hello. She waited, listening to the sound of his breathing.
"Aidan," Simone said sharply. "For fuck's sake."
"I wanted to see if you were going to hang up on me."
"Ugh. I just called you. Why would I hang up on you?" She flopped into her chair and put her feet up on the desk. "I'm at work. I can't just be chitchatting all day long with you. What do you want?"
"When are you going to stop ignoring me?"
"Um, I guess now? Since I fucking phoned you from work." With a grimace, Simone rocked in her chair. She actually had a bit of a break right now, but he didn't need to know that. And the truth was, she was getting the warm fuzzies from how desperately he'd pursued her.
Plus, she'd missed him.
"Are you still pissed at me?" Aidan asked.
"That's a complicated question."
He snorted laughter. "Isn't everything complicated with us?"
"Well. Yes. But the answer to your question is, no. I'm not pissed off at you anymore. I wasn't really pissed off at you to begin with." She paused, frowning. There was no point in lying to him. Aidan knew her too well for her to be able to get away with that.
"You'd like her," he said quietly.
Simone laughed harshly. "Somehow I doubt that."
"C'mon, Simone. You haven't even given her a chance."
"Do you want me to be besties with your sub? Is that it?" She got up from her chair to pace as she talked. "God, Aidan!"
"You've been friends with my girlfriends before."
"Sure. When you and I weren't fucking, yeah. Or when they weren't serious. This is different. And you know it. And I just . . . " She sighed, pausing in front of the window to look down into Elliott's office.
She still hadn't rearranged her office so that she could easily watch him through the window the way she used to. She didn't have to now, because she saw him a few times a week. Without glass between them. Without anything between them but their skin . . .
Aidan had said something she missed because she'd been looking for Elliott.
"Sorry, what?"
"I said, I miss you."
"Oh, Aidan. I miss you, too." Simone sighed.
"You'll always be my girl, Simone. You know that." His voice had dropped. Not like he was trying to be sexy. Not like he was trying to hide what he was saying from someone else, either.
Almost, Simone thought, like he was sad. And that made her sad, too. But what could she say? Denial would hurt him, and might really be a lie, anyway. Part of her always would be Aidan's girl, at least as much as she could ever be anyone's.
"Let me take you to dinner," he said.
"Tonight?"
"Yeah, tonight. We can go to that place you like, that Indian place."
She kept the smile out of her voice just to scold him a little. "What makes you think I don't have plans tonight?"
"Oh. Shit. Do you?"
Simone looked out the window, but the sun had angled through the building to block her view of Elliott's office. If he was even in there. She hadn't seen him yet today, though they'd had a few quick texts back and forth this morning. Nothing important. He'd texted her "Good morning," and she'd said "Have a great day."
Talk about something that should be simple getting complicated. Or maybe it was the other way around, something complicated becoming simple. Either way, she did not have plans tonight beyond a long, hot shower and watching movies in bed until she fell asleep.
Alone.
"Sure. I'll do dinner. You'll pick me up?"
"You don't have a car yet?"
It was an old discussion, one he'd ragged her about often. "Why do I need a car when I can ride my bike, or take a bus, or bum a ride off an old friend?"
"You have a free parking spot!"
Simone laughed. "And if I bought a car, that free spot would cost me several thousand bucks a year. Right?"
"I'll pick you up," Aidan said. "You know I will."
"And dinner's your treat."
"You are such a conniving brat."
She laughed, loud and long and hard, her heart lifting suddenly from a weight she hadn't been willing to admit she was carrying. "Oh, I've missed you. So fucking much."
"Me, too, babe. See you tonight."
Chapter 23
Aidan had brought her along.
Simone shouldn't have been surprised. The girl was Aidan's girlfriend, and his submissive, a combination he'd been looking to find for a long time. A good friend would've been happy for him . . . and Simone was going to try her best to be.
The girl wore her pale blonde hair in a long braid. Dark glasses with square frames. Black fitted T-shirt and black capri trousers. Nothing about her stood out as unique, but she had a pretty smile, and she shook Simone's hand firmly, without hesitation.
"You should've told me," Simone said under her breath as they took their seats at the table and the girl--her name was Corrina, Simone reminded herself. Corrina excused herself to use the restroom.
"I thought maybe you wouldn't come if you knew." Aidan gave her what looked like one of his old cocky grins, except there was a shadow of uncertainty beneath it.
He'd been really nervous, Simone saw. Genuinely worried. Touched, she reached for his hand, linked their fingers. She brushed a kiss along his knuckles.
"I might not have. But that would've made me the asshole," she told him.
He squeezed her hand and pulled her closer for the hug he hadn't given her when he picked her up at her apartment. It was awkward, stretching across the empty chair between them, but for the moment it felt so good to be hugging him that it didn't matter. He kissed her cheek, hard.
"Don't go away like that again," Aidan said fiercely into her ear.
He pulled away when Corrina came back to the table, but not quick enough. The girl saw the embrace. She was good about hiding her feelings, though. She gave Simone a smile that seemed almost genuine. It was better than the one Simone would've been able to make if the situation were reversed, that was for sure.
That was the moment when Simone decided to like her.
"So, Corrina," she said. "Tell me about yourself."
Chapter 24
Later, when Aidan had paid for the meal and talked her into going back to his place instead of having him take her immediately home, Simone had the chance to see Corrina in a different light. The moment she walked through Aidan's front door, she took off her shoes and set them carefully on the mat next to the door. Then she knelt and unlaced Aidan's and set them aside, too.
"No, thanks," Simone said when Corrina looked first to Aidan for affirmation, then up at her. "I'll take care of my own."
"Go change and then bring us a couple of coffees, sweetheart," Aidan told her. When she turned to go, he stared after her for so long
Simone wondered if he were going to simply wait until she came back before he even turned to her.
"You are in so fucking deep," she murmured, shaking her head and pushing past him to take a seat on the couch.
She pulled her phone from her bag, thumbing the screen to check for messages, but there was nothing but a few alerts from apps she barely used. Nothing from Elliott. She opened her lists of texts, just to check and be sure, but the last thing on it was her message telling him to have a great day. No reply from him.
Aidan laughed and took a seat in the chair across from her. "She's . . . perfect."
Simone raised her brows and looked up at him from over the top of her phone. "Nobody is perfect."
"She's perfect for me."
Jealousy is a hard emotion to swallow, even when you're trying hard to shove it down your throat to keep from being an ignorant asshole to someone you used to love. Simone forced a smile. "I'm happy for you."
"Good. I'm glad." Aidan grinned, then narrowed his eyes to look her over. "Are you, really?"
Simone leaned forward, phone held between her hands. "Yes, honey. Yes. I am."
"I meant what I said at the restaurant. Don't ever go away like that again."
"I don't like it when we don't talk," she admitted, and snuck another peek at her phone, even though it hadn't done so much as buzz to indicate a new message.
"So. Who is he?"
She looked up, feigning innocence. "Who?"
"The guy who's not texting you."
She frowned. "Is it that obvious?"
"I know you, that's all. So, who is he?"
"Elliott Anderson," Simone said in a low voice.
Aidan put his feet down with a thump. "No shit. No shit, no way. Office exhibitionist guy?"
"He's not . . . you can't say he's an exhibitionist," Simone said. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't know anyone can see him."
"But it's the guy you've been watching. The one you had a crush on since you started working in that building? No. Shit." Aidan sat back with a stunned expression.
Simone hesitated, looking him over. "Now who's jealous?"
"You're with him? I mean, with him, with him?"
