Paige sucked in a breath and whirled away, her hand catching on a shelf that was stacked with folders. Wincing, she shook her hand out to try and disperse the pain. That’s when she realized the T-shirt was huge. The label read “Men’s XXL.”
“You done yet?” Noah asked.
If she riffled through the pile again now, it would only confirm that she’d been so distracted by him that she’d lost track of what she was doing. Not exactly a good look considering she’d asked for privacy.
So instead, she ditched her tank and pulled her denim skirt down her legs, then slipped the T-shirt on. It hung down to her thighs, and was roomy enough for a friend. Given Paige was fairly tall herself, it still showed quite a bit of leg, but it effectively covered up enough so that she wouldn’t get booked for indecent exposure.
How was it that she kept managing to end up half naked in front of Noah?
“Yeah, all done.” She bundled her skirt and tank up and tucked them under one arm. “This should be decent enough for me to get home and have a shower.”
“I thought we were all going dancing,” he said.
When she faced him again, there was a heat in his eyes. He looked…hungry. “I can’t go dancing in this,” she said, smoothing her hands over the sack-like T-shirt. “And besides, I’m covered in watermelon.”
“Come on, live a little.” He grinned. “Even Little Miss Perfect has to let her hair down sometimes. Would it help if I made you a bet?”
“Now why would you do that? As my boss, you’re supposed to be setting a good example.”
“Paige, I’ve never been a good example for anyone.” The smile turned from cheeky to wolfish. “And that’s just the way I like it.”
“You think you’re so charming.” She folded her arms across her chest, trying to muster all the bravado in her arsenal. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much. “But I hate to break it to you, I’m immune.”
“Got that vaccine, huh? Good girls like you always think they’re immune.”
“I am.” She stuck her nose in the air. “I mean, you’re attractive. But you’re not my type. Sorry.”
“Really?” His eyes glinted. “So if I kissed you now you wouldn’t feel a thing?”
Shit. He was calling her bluff. The smart thing to do would be to back down and hightail it out of the bar. But Paige’s love of competition ran deep. He’d ignited the side that needed to win—and right now, with everything that was going on in her life, she was craving a win.
“I’m afraid not. Good looks aren’t enough for me. I need spark.” She waved her hand around, taunting him. “Chemistry.”
What are you doing? This is your boss. This job is the only thing keeping your dreams afloat right now.
But drawing a line between her and Noah would preserve that. If she shot him down hard enough, she might have the willpower to keep some distance between them. If only she wasn’t absolutely, positively sure that she’d melt into a puddle the second his lips touched hers.
“You think we don’t have chemistry?” He raised a brow.
“I don’t,” she lied. “But you’re welcome to try.”
The instant the words popped out of her mouth she regretted them. She’d given him the green light to test her boundaries. To kiss her.
Better go home and pack those bags. You’re done for.
“I’ll do the right thing and give you to the count of three to back down.”
Shit. This was getting too real, too fast.
“One.” His hand came up to her face, the backs of his knuckles tracing along her cheek in a featherlight touch.
Say something.
“Two.” His hand curled around her jaw, sliding back until his fingers threaded into her hair.
Say something. Now!
“Last chance, Paige.” His eyes were dancing, wild and untamed. He looked like he wanted to devour her. “Three.”
The kiss was hard at first. Bruising. Desperate.
But then he slowed things down. One hand pressed into her lower back, forcing her body against his, and the other cradled her head while his tongue brushed against hers. He played her body like an instrument. Stroking. Maneuvering. Guiding.
She sighed into him, tilting her head back to let him take the kiss deeper. He tasted sweet and tart, like the citrus vodka cocktail they’d made together. There was a generous dusting of stubble on his jaw, and it lightly scratched against her skin. Roughing her up. Making her nerve endings sing. His lips were firm, demanding. His kiss scorched her insides until she was sure she’d turn to dust in his arms.
“Noah,” she moaned as his hand inched farther down her spine.
“Fuck, Paige.”
The muttered curse made her blood roar as it pumped through her. She wasn’t used to being a seductive creature—no man had ever told her she was hot. Sexy. No man had ever made her feel like she was an object of desire. And for so long she’d told herself it was because she had something more to offer than her looks. But right now, with Noah’s lips and hands on her, feeling desirable was the best damn thing in all the world.
“I knew it,” he said, victory glittering in his eyes. “You want me as much as I want you.”
Paige sucked in a breath, the reality of their kiss crashing down on her. She’d kissed her boss. Not just kissed, but basically dry humped him in the middle of his office.
The worst part was, it felt so incredibly right.
“I didn’t feel anything,” she said, her voice wobbling worse than a trainee circus performer. “Not even a little spark.”
“Liar.” He shot her a smug look. “Don’t you know life’s more fun when you stop worrying about doing the right thing?”
But it wasn’t. Fun wasn’t important to her. Success was. And success meant getting her perfect job, finding the right guy, and settling down. She wasn’t going to risk putting herself in a position where she might lose it all. This job was her life jacket, and she needed it more than she needed fun. More than she needed kisses that made her head spin.
“You’re still hanging on like you’re about to drown.” He grazed the edge of his stubble-coated jaw along her neck, sending a delicious shiver of anticipation through her. “You enjoyed the hell out of that.”
She pulled her hands back from his chest and curled them by her sides. Frustration mingled with all her raging hormones because she wanted to be annoyed at him for saying that. She wanted to be able to throw that smirk back in his face by walking away. But he was right.
“I have a hard limit when it comes to getting involved with people at work,” she said.
“And kissing doesn’t count?”
Her breath hitched, her lips still tingling. “It was a test.”
“Didn’t feel like a test to me.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Felt pretty fucking incredible, if I’m being honest.”
She could try to lie again, but it was clear he wasn’t buying it. Guys like Noah had experience—they were confident. They knew what attraction felt like.
“I’m not looking for a fling.” She took a step back and felt a metal bookshelf dig into her back. Noah hadn’t moved an inch, hadn’t crowded her—and yet his presence felt like it was swelling, taking up every spare inch of space until she could see nothing but him.
“You might not be looking for it, but you want it. I’d put my last dollar on that.”
“You want to make a bet? Fine.” She sucked in a breath. “From now on I’ll keep my lips to myself.”
He looked at her intently. “Who are you trying to convince?”
She stuck her hand out toward him, ignoring his highly inconvenient question. “I won’t kiss you again while I’m working at First.”
“Why would I bet on that?” He took a step closer. “What’s in it for me?”
“The thrill of a challenge.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “That should be prize enough.”
Whoa! Did you not just have that whole conversation with him about how he’s
not the right guy for you?
It didn’t matter. Paige wasn’t the undefeated queen of debate for nothing. She wouldn’t lose.
“I want to make it clear I don’t need to bet girls for a kiss,” he said, but then his palm slid along hers, his fingers squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. “But you’re right. I do enjoy a challenge.”
“I hope you enjoy losing, as well.”
He chuckled, the warm air brushing her cheek in a promise of things to come. Or was it a threat? “I accept, Paige Thomas.”
She tilted her face up as they shook on it, making sure she looked him dead in the eye.
What the hell have you done?
Chapter Six
“What the hell is this?” Sally asked.
Paige snapped her head up as her friend pointed to the large men’s promo T-shirt currently draped over the clothing rack along with her denim skirt and tank top. It was Sunday afternoon, a full day after the mixology class, and Paige still hadn’t been able to get Noah’s kiss out of her head.
God, she’d been an idiot. Who on earth would be dumb enough to make a bet with their boss? A kissing bet, no less. So childish. So stupid.
She was egging him on even though he wasn’t her type. Not only that, but they were going in different directions in life, and Paige wasn’t about to compromise her values for a pretty face. Or a hot body.
Or a pair of lips that could kiss her senseless and melt every brain cell in her head.
Vodka. It’s definitely a booze-related mistake…like the Naked Pirouette part II.
“Did you have someone stay over?” Sally’s eyes bulged. “Did you have a man stay over?”
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t defile your couch like that.”
“I was more worried about you corrupting Damon.” She laughed. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate a live sex show in the middle of the living room. Although if you do want to have someone over when I’m out, you can put him in the cat carrier.”
Paige smirked. “Does that invitation extend to any time I’m home by myself?”
Sally poked her tongue out and scooped up the cat. It was incredible how the furry beast could turn from a demonic fur ball with razor-sharp claws poised to attack to a boneless clump of purring cuteness as soon as Sally touched him.
Suck-up.
“He’s a perfect little kitty. I don’t know what your problem is.” Sally rubbed her nose against Damon’s head. “That Paige is such a meanie face, isn’t she, my darling?”
Paige pretended to stick two fingers down her throat, and she could have sworn that Damon’s eyes narrowed at her. “My problem is that I’m certain he’s plotting to kill me in my sleep. Do you know I woke up the other morning and he was sitting on the coffee table, one paw hovering over my face? If I hadn’t woken up, he would have slashed me.”
“He wants to play. It’s an affection thing.” Sally carried Damon like a baby into the kitchen to get his food out of the fridge.
“It’s a demon cat thing,” Paige muttered as she hung up the rest of her washing.
“Hey, I was thinking we should go out tonight,” Sally said from the kitchen over Damon’s meowing. “Grab a few drinks and shake our moneymakers.”
“I seriously doubt my butt would make any money.” Paige checked herself out in the full-length mirror that sat against the wall. Yep, pancake butt still intact.
“I’m ignoring that self-deprecating BS,” Sally replied. “You don’t start until later tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, I’m on the lunch cover.” Paige bit down on her lip. A night out with Sally sounded fantastic, but there was this little problem of her dwindling savings. She’d be choking down a healthy dose of guilt along with her cocktails if she went out. “I’d love to, Sal, but you know I can’t spend much at the moment.”
“We’ll go to the Wooden Llama. It’s a really cute café that turns into a bar at night. They move all the tables out back to make a dance floor. Plus, they have two-for-one cocktails on Sundays because it’s ladies’ night.”
At least that would get her out of the house and stop her from obsessing over what’d happened at the mixology class on Friday night. Noah’s naked torso had been burned into her brain. The memory of his tongue sliding against hers sent a shiver down her spine.
It’d been so long since she’d been with a guy, and normally that didn’t bother her. She believed firmly that sex was something to be shared with a person you cared about, not simply a warm and willing body. For her, casual sex was a no-go. But there was something about Noah that got her blood pumping and her libido screaming like it was New Year’s Eve and Mardi Gras rolled into one.
Highly unlike her. All the attraction in the world wouldn’t change the fact that while they were working together, he was off-limits.
But you won’t be working there forever…
“Come back from fairyland. I’m talking about cheap drinks and dancing.” Sally came out of the kitchen and shook her head. “Not asking you to ponder the meaning of life.”
“I guess I can’t really say no to two-for-one cocktails, can I?” Besides, getting out of the house and keeping her mind off Noah was the smart thing to do.
Sally grinned. “No, you can’t.”
By the time they arrived at the Wooden Llama the place was packed. So packed, that Paige was sure a sardine tin would have been roomier. Oh well, who needed personal space anyway? That was part of big-city living. Packed bars, packed roads, packed trains. She tried not to cringe as a big, burly guy squeezed past her, his armpit uncomfortably close to her nose.
“Is it always like this?” Paige asked as they pushed their way through to the bar. She was thankful now that she’d allowed Sally to rope her into wearing a tiny little black dress. Not because she thought it looked good, but because the bare skin would help her keep cool.
“Sunday nights aren’t usually so busy, but they’ve been promoting the hell out of it.” Sally shrugged. “It’ll be fine out back. It’s only the bar area that gets crazy.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right.” Sally flagged down a bartender and ordered their drinks, shoving aside Paige’s hand clutching a twenty-dollar bill. “It’s on me.”
“I’m not letting you pay for everything.”
“Why not? I signed another corporate logo design job and those guys pay through the nose. Money’s not a problem, babe.” Sally shot her a rueful smile. “And I feel guilty that I’m ditching you at the end of the month.”
Like she needed the reminder. While Paige was floundering, Sally was flourishing. She didn’t resent her friend’s success, of course, but it didn’t fit with her view on the way the world worked. Paige had followed the rules. She’d gotten good grades, gone to university, studied hard, eschewed distractions (well, after the Naked Pirouette incident, anyway), and generally been a model worker.
Sal, bless her free-spirited heart, had given the rules the middle finger. But she was the one with an apartment, a well-paying job, and a boyfriend who was crazy about her and ready to take the next step. Paige had been taught early on that being a good girl led to getting ahead, but these days she was starting to question whether that was true.
The more she craved success, the further away it seemed to be.
“I feel like I’m dancing the line between accepting help and taking advantage of you,” she said as the bartender poured their drinks. The frothy, pale yellow cocktail looked perfectly delicate garnished with a wafer-thin slice of cucumber.
“I know you’ll pay me back when you’re sitting on the board of some big company and I’ve lost all my money and am living in a hippie commune.” Sally grinned and brushed a strand of curly blond hair out of her face. “Or in a beach hut in Byron Bay.”
“You fancy yourself a bit of earth-woman, Sal, but I know for a fact you’re wearing a forty-dollar lipstick.” Paige chuckled as she grabbed her cocktail from the bartender. “You’re not fooling me.”
“I like pretty things, so sue me.”
They wove through the three-deep crowd at the bar and found spot at the edge of the makeshift dance floor. The music was trendy and fun, and Paige found herself moving to the beat as she sipped her drink. She relished the cooling sensation of the cocktail sliding down the back of her throat. Dancing and drinks would do her good, help her to lose the pent-up energy that was making her feel edgy and tightly coiled.
It was the stress of her situation, that was all. That and the fact that she’d been so focused on finding work that she hadn’t let her hair down for months. Not since the night she’d accepted the job at the accounting firm and signed the lease on her apartment. She and Sally had sat on the floor, drinking champagne and giggling. It’d felt like her life was finally going in the direction she wanted.
If only she’d known that in a few short months she’d be back at square one.
“No frowning,” Sally said, poking her sharply with one painted fingernail. “Drink up. It’s time to dance.”
What the hell? She brought the cocktail up to her lips and tipped it down the hatch. Tonight, she’d put the rules to the back of her mind.
…
Noah leaned back in his chair and sucked in a long breath. He couldn’t have asked for a better night—cool breeze, beer in his hand, and the company of two gorgeous women. So why was he fidgeting in his seat?
“Bloody hell, Noah. Will you stand up and shake out whatever bug has crawled into your jocks? You haven’t sat still for three seconds since we got here.” His youngest sister, Ginnie, shook her head, sending black curls bouncing around her pixie face. She narrowed her dark eyes at him. “What is going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. It’s been a big week.” He took a long gulp of his beer.
“You’re supposed to be Mr. Chill,” Megan, his other sister, said with a frown. She was all lightness—white-blond hair and pale eyes—in contrast to Ginnie’s darkness. “I thought I was the uptight one.”
Betting the Bad Boy (Behind the Bar) Page 6
