He blinked. “I feel like you’re about to smack a ruler over my knuckles.”
“I’m not going to judge you. You’re my boss.” She gulped the reminder of her first drink and reached for the second. “What you do in your spare time is up to you.”
She slipped off the stool and went to walk away but he moved in front of her, blocking her path. “Why don’t you join us outside?”
“And sit with your little harem? No thanks.”
To her complete surprise, Noah threw his head back and laughed. The unapologetic sound zinged through her body, radiating with little tingles of awareness. “My harem? Good Lord. I don’t know what you’ve gotten into your head about me, but I’m not that guy.”
“The guy who has multiple women on the go?” She tried to step past him, but he deftly blocked her again.
Another patron shoved past them to get to the bar, and Paige found herself being pressed closer to Noah. She brought her hand up to keep the distance, but when it landed against his chest, she sighed at the feeling of hard muscles beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt.
“Let me revise my offer,” he said with a sigh. “Would you like to join me and my sisters outside?”
She blinked. “Your sisters?”
“Yeah, Ginnie and Megan are my sisters. I’m treating them to a few drinks.” His eyes skated down to where her hands still touched his chest. “Not sure they’d like to think of themselves as my harem, though. That’s a little creepy.”
Oh God, she was a grade-A idiot.
“Well, this is embarrassing.” She pulled her hand back and smoothed it down her dress. “Please don’t tell them about the harem thing.”
“It’ll be our little secret.” He winked. “Now, do I have to invite you again?”
Paige was about to decline when her phone buzzed. It was a text from Sally letting her know that she and Travis were heading back to the apartment. If she left now she’d have no choice but to hang out with Damon the Terrible and try to ignore the sound of squeaking bedsprings.
“Sure. Why the hell not,” she said.
…
Noah nursed his drink as he watched Paige charm the pants off his little sisters. She had them both completely enraptured with her tales of growing up in the country—including the time she had to rescue a lamb that’d been stranded during a storm. Even Megan, who usually took a while to warm up to people, was giggling like she’d known Paige since they were kids.
“I’m sorry to be the one to break up the fun, but I’ve got an early start tomorrow,” Megan said with a resigned sigh. “It’s a bit of a drive back and I promised Adam I’d be home before he finished up at work. We’re going to the movies.”
“And I have to start packing for Sydney,” Ginnie said.
“I thought you weren’t leaving for another three weeks?” Noah drained the last of his gin and tonic.
“I know. Three weeks is nothing. I have to plan all my outfits and figure out how I’m going to manage with only one suitcase.” She looked genuinely distressed.
“Only one suitcase, Noah.” Megan stifled a laugh. “It really should be a crime. I mean, how are these young fashionistas supposed to cope? Someone should start a petition.”
Ginnie elbowed her sister and rolled her eyes. “Who invited you anyway?”
The girls continued to tease each other as they pushed out of their seats and said their good-byes. From the corner of his eye, Noah waited for Paige to make a move to leave. But her hands stayed firmly wrapped around her drink. She sat with her legs crossed, her black high heel hanging off her foot in a way that was so casually seductive Noah couldn’t seem to direct his eyes elsewhere.
He wondered what it would be like to slip the heel from her foot and run his hand up the back of her bare calf. Would she feel as smooth as she looked? Would she sigh as he slipped the hem of her dress farther up her thighs?
“Your sisters are really sweet,” she said suddenly, interrupting his fantasy.
He bobbed his head, trying to shut down the swell of desire that had his blood stirring down south. “Yeah, they’re good value.”
“I, uhh…I’m sorry about before.” Her tongue darted out to run along her lower lip. “The harem comment was out of line.”
“It’s cool. You were jealous, I get it.”
She coughed as if her drink had stuck in her throat. “I was not jealous.”
“Just judgmental, then?” He raised a brow.
“You’re not very good at accepting apologies.” She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears.
He grinned. “I’m not very good at a lot of things.”
Paige tilted her head, curiosity dancing across her face. “Like what?”
“Like keeping my thoughts to myself.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs so that their bodies were closer together. To his delight, her lips parted as her breath stuttered in and out. “I’m not very good at sugarcoating the facts, either.”
“That’s not a bad thing. People who want to sugarcoat the facts tend to be the ones who like to ‘bend’ the truth.” Her fingertip traced the rim of her drink. “And I prefer being able to take things at face value.”
“You and me both.” He watched as she toyed with her empty glass, her delicate hands moving slowly but carefully. He wanted nothing more than for her to use that deft touch on him. “So, tell me, Paige, why haven’t you gone home yet?”
She looked around the patio area, which had thinned considerably in the last hour. The fairy lights still twinkled bright against the inky night sky, but the sound of conversation was lower now. Intimate. People had mostly paired off, with lots of interwoven fingers and whispers and low laughter. Verbal foreplay. Except for him and Paige, of course, because they were in an unspoken standoff. He knew that if he rushed in she would pull away, but he couldn’t help wanting to be close to her.
“I don’t know,” she said, her eyes raking over him with a burning intensity. “If I look at the facts, I should be back home and tucked into bed.”
“And what are the facts?”
Her hand fluttered at the neckline of her dress, which was modest in contrast to the high hemline. “That you’re too good-looking for my sanity and that I have a thing about losing.”
Well, damn. That made him want to puff out his chest in pride. If only he didn’t hear the “but” that was most certainly coming next.
“A thing?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t do it.”
“And what would be so bad about losing a little old bet?” He grinned. “You’ll have fun—I’ll make sure of it.”
“For one thing, I don’t date guys like you.”
“Who said anything about dating?” What he had in mind was a little more immediate than that. And a little more…sweaty.
“My point exactly.” She placed her drink on the ground and folded her hands in her lap. “Even if we weren’t working together, I don’t sleep around. No judgment, I promise, but it’s not my thing.”
“So you’re a white-picket-fence girl?”
“Totally and unapologetically.” She bobbed her head. “I don’t sleep with someone unless the relationship is going somewhere.”
It was a sweet sentiment. Sweet but naive. “So you’re carrying your V-card?”
She pursed her lips. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m not.”
“Then you thought previous relationships were ‘going somewhere,’ right?” He wasn’t sure why he was getting into this with her. Normally, such a declaration would be enough to have him heading for the door.
She folded her arms across her chest. “I thought so at the time.”
“But you changed your mind?”
“Circumstances changed,” she corrected. “My last boyfriend ended up moving away for work. It was an unforeseen event.”
“And you didn’t want to go with him?”
It was hard to read her expression in the dim lighting. “I had my own dream to
follow and, unfortunately, it took us in different directions.”
“You don’t seem cut up about it.”
“There’s no point being cut up. It was sad, but I moved on.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s with the inquisition?”
“I’m curious.” He shrugged. “You tell me that you’re a good girl who only wants a relationship and yet you’re here, drinking with me.”
“Can’t a boss and his employee share a social drink?”
“You haven’t exactly been acting like this is a social drink, what with the jealous comments about my harem and all.”
“I told you, I’m not jealous.” Her cheeks flushed pink, and she shifted in her seat, fidgeting and avoiding his eyes. “And I said I was sorry for the harem thing.”
“You’re sending some mixed signals, is all I’m saying.”
She rolled her eyes. “Because of one comment?”
“Not just that. I know you saw me while you were dancing and maybe I’m wrong, but I got the distinct impression you liked me watching you. It was almost like you were showing off for me.” He tilted his head. “If I’m way off base, then tell me.”
Her nostrils flared as she searched his face, not a sound emanating from her lips. The excitement was undeniable in her expression—wide pupils, flushed cheeks, and that damn tongue darting out to wet her lips again. She wanted him. And the fact that she was resisting it so hard made him want to push until he knew why.
“I walked away before and I can do it again,” he said. “Tell me to go.”
Chapter Eight
The mixed signals weren’t directed only at him; Paige could barely sort through the confusing clash of her heart and her head. This whole situation had “run for the hills ” painted all over it in big, bold letters. But for some reason unbeknownst to her, she remained rooted to her chair.
Say the damn words. Tell him to walk away.
But she couldn’t. Her lips and tongue would not comply and instead, her foot bounced to some imaginary beat while they stared each other down. Why was it suddenly hard to stick to her rule of avoiding casual sex?
It wasn’t that she was a prude. But to her, sex was an important bonding experience. She was the master of her own destiny, and that meant she had the right to demand certain things before she let a guy into her bed. One of those things was the promise of a committed relationship. Not to mention, she’d seen too many friends get dumped after giving it up to the wrong guy, having their hearts broken in the process. Or worse. Her brother had killed his career and his dreams by getting himself tied to a woman he didn’t love.
“You’re awfully quiet, good girl.” He was close. Too close.
The scent of gin and lime on his breath mixed with the delicate smoke of the candles burning down to stumps around them. The place was clearing, and soon they’d be kicked out. It was late enough that Paige could easily slip into Sally’s apartment without risking an interruption to her lovefest with Travis.
But she didn’t want the night to be over.
It’s all the cocktails talking. Go home and put an end to this craziness now.
“I don’t have anything to say,” she said, softly.
Noah stood and, for a moment, Paige thought he might be making the decision for her. But then his hand extended out in invitation. Shadows obscured his features, but she caught the wicked glint of a smile.
She slid her hand into his and let him help her to her feet. “Where are we going?”
“Dancing.”
He hauled her inside, where a crowd still occupied the dance floor. The music had moved from an upbeat electro track to a filthy bass-heavy grind. It was the kind of sound that encouraged hip rolling and head rolling and every other kind of rolling. The kinds of movement that simulated the hottest, dirtiest sex.
Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.
She followed Noah into the crush of writhing bodies as if propelled by some invisible force. The crowd swallowed them whole, sucking them into the depths of the dance floor until she was pressed against him, her hands at his chest. Her heart hammered as he looped his arms around her waist.
It was like hugging a brick wall. Everything was as hard as it’d looked on Friday night. God, she wanted to tear at his T-shirt with her teeth so she could get closer. She ran her hand slowly up his chest, her breath catching as she felt the hard ridge of his piercing.
“You like?” he asked. His breath was warm at her ear, his nearness overwhelming her senses.
Her throat worked as she tried to swallow past the tight feeling there. “I shouldn’t.”
“Those are the best kinds of things to like.” This time his lips brushed her ear. His arms tightened, drawing her closer.
Heat radiated between them as they moved, and she was seconds away from dragging his head down to hers so she could re-create their kiss. Re-create the heat and tension and the unique taste of him on her tongue. So she turned, forcing herself to face away from him. But all that did was allow him to slide up against her back, his hands fanning out across her hips. Claiming her.
She sank her teeth down into her bottom lip to stifle a moan as she melted back against him. Yep, mixed signals all right. Her mouth kept saying no, but her body was screaming yes in every language it knew.
“Is this still a boss-employee event?” he growled into her ear.
She was pretty sure that her job description didn’t involve grinding up on her manager in the middle of a sweaty dance floor. Her job. The reality of what she was doing crashed into her—Noah was her boss and she needed this job. Sally was moving out in three weeks and the days were slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. She couldn’t screw this up, or it would mean she really was a failure.
“Yes, it is.” She stepped away from him and glanced over her shoulder to see the smoky look in his eyes, then she turned and pushed through the crowd.
…
Paige woke to the sound of a vibrations cutting through her skull like a knife.
“Who the hell does construction on a Sunday morning?” Groaning, she pushed up on one hand while she pressed the other against her forehead. “And why the hell is it so bright?”
“It’s Monday and it’s not construction,” Sally said cheerfully from the kitchen. “Your phone’s buzzing.”
“Crap.” Paige blinked a few times to focus her eyes and saw that Damon was batting her phone around like it was his own personal squeaky toy. “Hey, cut that out.” She snatched the phone up and hoped she wouldn’t sound as bad as she felt. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Paige Thomas?”
“Yes, it is.” She cringed at the excitement in her voice. Probably wouldn’t do her good to sound too desperate.
“I’m calling regarding your application for the junior accounting position with Stodder & Maclean, and I’m hoping you might be free to come in for an interview this morning. I know it’s short notice, but we’ve had someone drop out of the running and we really need to move quickly on filling this role.”
“Of course.” Paige waved to get Sally’s attention and signaled that she needed a pen and paper. “What time did you have in mind?”
Sally pointed to her desk, and Paige scrambled to get the details written down on a scrap of paper. The interview was at ten thirty, which, if it took an hour as they usually did, would give her a tight window to haul her butt to First in time for her shift. It was only her second week there and she felt guilty at the possibility of being late, but priorities were priorities. Hopefully her skills made up for her tardiness.
“Thank you so much for the opportunity,” Paige said, trying to keep her voice even and professional. “I’ll see you at ten thirty.”
“Is that what I think it is?” Sally clapped her hands together as Paige ended the call.
“Job interview in, like”—she checked her phone—“an hour. Crap! I need to get ready now.”
Her head pounded like a rock concert and her mouth felt as though she’d stuffed it full of cotton ba
lls. Ugh, why had she thought two-for-one cocktails were a good idea? She stumbled around the lounge room trying to get her things together so she could take a shower, and Damon hissed at her when she shooed him from the top of her suitcase.
“That’s for sitting on me while I was sleeping,” she said, poking her tongue out. “Don’t think I’m blind to your feline tricks.”
Two hours later, Paige walked out of the interview for a job that she was way too qualified for and that was paying peanuts. Such a meager wage would mean living farther out of the city than she wanted, thus increasing her commute time. Not to mention the fact that she’d probably have to take orders from someone with less experience than her.
“No wonder their other candidate pulled out at the last second,” she grumbled under her breath as she made her way to the tram stop.
But First wasn’t exactly a long-term option. While they paid fair wages for a barista, she hadn’t spent three years at university—plus all the hours required to fulfill her CPA—to make cappuccinos. It wasn’t part of her perfectly thought-out life plan. On the other hand, staying at First meant spending more time with Noah. She was about to chide herself for thinking stupid things when her phone buzzed. Noah’s name flashed up like something dredged from the darkest, dirtiest depths of her fantasies. They’d exchanged numbers so he could text her if any extra shifts came up at First. But this text was entirely not work-appropriate.
Don’t think I’ve forgotten about our bet. I’ll enjoy watching you eat your words.
A shiver darted down Paige’s spine as she stared at the text. It was the wrong reaction, the wrong feeling. The wrong everything. But Noah elicited a response in her that was totally foreign. It wasn’t the first time someone had hit on her at work. At her last job one of the associates had been insistent about taking her out to dinner. Relentless, even. And what had happened when she’d gone against her instinct and accepted the invitation? All her progress disintegrated.
Betting the Bad Boy (Behind the Bar) Page 8
