Hadn’t they?
Chapter Eight
Caleb was the first to admit that this was a risk. Maybe even a bad move. If Yvette and Kat’s expressions were anything to go by when he walked into their favorite bar with Kennedy at his side, this may have been a terrible idea.
Kat for one seemed happy to see her, though Yvette was a little more guarded. In her defense, she’d been the one he’d been complaining to all week since she was an objective bystander and not the good Samaritan who’d helped him score this gig in the first place.
And the gig he loved. Admittedly it was probably below his pay grade. But then again, was it? While he could memorize lines easily and could cry on demand, his skill set off camera was far less impressive.
It was pretty much nonexistent.
Over the course of this past week he’d learned just how ignorant he was about the world of people that were behind the scenes of television. Oh, he’d long admired the crew who worked on set—the director, the grips, the sound guys, the makeup crew—but he’d never seen the day-to-day operations that went on behind the scenes.
And it was fascinating. Truly. He knew the other interns, and Kennedy for that matter, thought he was either being insincere with his excitement, or was perhaps just too eager to please.
And he was that as well. But could anyone blame him? This was his first job, to some extent. His few new venture into a foreign world, and he had something to prove. He wasn’t like these college kids who had the world ahead of them. He had to make the most of this chance because what other options were there?
But while he truly enjoyed learning about the multiple facets that go into television, he had yet to find one that seemed like a good fit. So far nothing had felt as amazing as losing himself in a role, in playing a part that entertained people and made them happy.
Sadly, he was no less aimless today than he had been on Monday.
But then again, perhaps it was ludicrous to expect to figure out his entire life plan in the course of one week. Maybe it was even asking too much to want to sort out a career path in that time.
No, he needed to relax about it all. Take a deep breath and trust in the process. Or trust in Kennedy, at the very least.
He glanced over at the stunning woman sipping a glass of wine beside him—his boss, sort of. Definitely his superior. While she’d been nothing short of awful to him as a person, he respected the hell out of her as a professional. He’d heard what everyone had to say about her and saw the way she interacted with everyone who was not him.
Literally, every single human who was not him was treated to an entirely different demeanor.
Oddly enough, he found that heartening. Yvette, on the other hand, thought he was a moron. But then, she pretty much always thought he was nuts. She was diametrically opposed to his way of thinking in general, even now when she’d found the love of her life and had to admit that true love was a real thing and not just widespread propaganda pushed down society’s collective throats to continue the propagation of the human race.
Those were her words, not his.
But despite Yvette’s hesitation, he’d decided that Kennedy’s apparent repulsion was a good sign. The opposite of love wasn’t hate, right? It was apathy. And Kennedy was not apathetic when it came to him. It was clear he brought out some strong feelings. Strong negative emotions, apparently, but he’d take what he could get.
Besides, it wasn’t like she was the love of his life or anything. She wasn’t the dream woman he’d been searching for his entire life, much as he might have convinced himself that she was that night.
But that night he’d clearly been drunker than he’d realized.
And that was fine. He didn’t need her to be the one. He just wanted her to stop actively hating him. That was all. For a man who was known for his charm, that shouldn’t be too difficult a task.
Yet all week his attempts to get through her thick defenses had been a disaster. Each time he smiled, her frown intensified. He might not need her to love him, but he needed her help which meant he needed her to get past whatever injury he’d accidentally caused by sleeping with her.
It still nagged at him. It had been good, hadn’t it? It had been better than good… for him, at least.
Okay, fine, maybe his ego was at stake here just a bit. Or a lot. He needed to know that he hadn’t completely turned this woman off because of that night. He didn’t think of himself as a terribly egotistical person but he wasn’t sure his fragile male pride could handle that sort of blow.
So tonight, he’d get to know her outside of work. He’d get her to see that he wasn’t the player douchebag she must thing he was.
Even though she was the one who’d kicked him out.
He ignored that voice. Getting annoyed with her wouldn’t help anyone’s cause, and so far this night was off to a great start. After some initial awkwardness, Kennedy seemed to be having a good time. He’d even caught her laughing and smiling when he’d told his friends about his first week at work. Progress!
The problems started about an hour into the night when some friendly acquaintances who’d joined them started to head off to other plans they’d made for Friday night and he and Kennedy were left at a long table with Yvette and Darren, and Kat and Bryce.
It wasn’t the company that was the problem, it was the fact that they were couples. Which made it strongly seem as though he and Kennedy were the third couple. A triple date, as it were. Which they most definitely were not. She wasn’t his type, and he was apparently the bane of her existence.
The fact that they were at the end of a long table didn’t help matters any, either. At one point the couples were talking amongst themselves, clearly caught up in their own little idyllic worlds.
Not that Caleb was bitter or anything… though it had struck him on more than one occasion how insanely unfair the world was that his two friends who didn’t want nor believe in an epic love had found it without even trying. When meanwhile, he’d been searching since puberty.
He knew she was out there. He wouldn’t give up. He’d never—
“So,” Kennedy cut into his thoughts, swirling her glass as she studied him. “Thanks for inviting me out tonight. It’s been fun.”
He frowned. That sounded like the start of a bail. It’s been fun, but… I’ve got to get up in the morning. It’s been fun, but… I have to walk my dog. It’s been fun, but…
“You’re not leaving yet.” Okay, that had come out a tad more intense than anticipated.
She looked up in surprise. “Well, I should—”
“Nope.” Ah, what the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. He refused to let this night end without some sort of satisfying understanding between himself and his new boss. That night could not have been that bad. And if it was, he needed to apologize.
And try again.
No, not try again. Obviously neither of them wanted that.
Yes, we do!
Clearly his stupid dick was doing the dumb thinking around here.
She arched her brows in surprise and she looked… sexy.
Shut up, penis.
She looked surprisingly human. Not nearly as intimidating as she had been all week, even though she still sported the too-tight bun, the severe black blazer, and the sensible pumps. “Excuse me?” She also looked confused, and rightly so. He supposed she wasn’t used to being told she wasn’t allowed to leave a happy hour event.
But he needed to talk, dammit. And this was the perfect time, when they were away from the office and she was in rare form. And by that, he meant human and not an automaton.
He cleared his throat and shifted a bit away from the rest of the table. She furrowed her brows but did the same, clearly curious.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to say you couldn’t leave, it’s just… I don’t want you to.”
Her face went expressionless.
Fuck, he was already off to a bad start.
“I mean… I didn’t mean… ah shit.
” He blew out a long exhale and went to try again but he noticed that her lips had curved in, like she was pressing them together, like she was…
Oh fuck me, she’s trying not to laugh.
That did it. He burst out laughing and she did too.
God, her laugh was awesome. It was better than he’d remembered. It was husky and low, and sexy as hell. Her eyes met his and for one second he had a glimpse of her. The woman he’d gone home with.
The one who’d disappeared in the cold light of day.
“I’m not allowed to leave?” she asked. She arched her brows again, this time in challenge.
Oh hell, he would never try to challenge this woman. She could clearly kick his ass any day of the week. She was the exact opposite of what he’d always been looking for—someone soft, sweet, nurturing.
This woman was cold as ice and scary as hell.
And hot, his penis kindly reminded him.
Yes, penis, we hear you.
He cleared his throat, grateful that her eyes were still lit with laughter even if her challenging look was mildly terrifying. “Of course you can leave. I just thought it might be a good idea if the two of us talked.”
She blinked once, giving nothing away. “About what?”
About how you gave me the single best night of passion I’ve ever experienced. Yeah, maybe he should tone that down a bit. “About the other night.”
He saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes at the memory and his cock stirred hopefully in response.
Calm down, boy. There would be no repeating that particular mistake.
Unless she wanted to.
But she wouldn’t want to, dummy, because she clearly regretted it.
That thought stung no matter how many times it struck him. She regretted it. The night that had made him happier than he’d ever been had been a mistake for her.
Shit.
She hadn’t spoken, and aside from that slight, unintentional acknowledgment, he might have been speaking another language.
All the more reason for him to get this over with.
“I’m sorry,” he said on a rush of air. But he wasn’t sorry, that was the thing. He didn’t regret that night, but if she did than clearly he’d been doing it wrong.
Her face grew even less emotional, if that was possible. “Why are you sorry?”
Excellent question. His mouth hung open but no words came out.
She shifted slightly in her seat. “Look, you don’t have to apologize. We were both at fault. I was just as much to blame for that mistake as you were.”
Mistake. He flinched at the word and after a brief narrowing of her eyes, she averted her gaze.
For some reason he found himself talking. Maybe he wanted to get her attention back—her gaze might be intimidating but it was an odd sensation to be in her particular spotlight. It made him want to impress her. No, not impress her. It made him want to be better. Her attention made him want to be worthy.
She had an air of a goddess about her. Strong, powerful, benevolent, wise.
And kind of scary.
“I don’t normally do things like that,” he said.
Her eyes met his and he felt a surge of… something. Something electric and powerful, a sensation he felt to some degree or another every time she looked in his direction, but none more powerful than that night. That night when she’d looked at him like a woman looking at a man, and not a boss glaring at her underling or a friendly acquaintance agreeing to drinks.
“You don’t normally share a cab?” she asked. Her expression was so serious and her voice was so bland, he almost could have missed the hint of teasing in her eyes.
Holy shit, that was such a turn on.
He kept his voice just as serious, his expression just as grim. “Never.”
“Well,” she said, reaching for her glass. “That’s good to know.”
Just before she took a sip, he caught it. That flicker of a grin as her laughing eyes met his.
Right then and there he decided—he needed to see that smile again. He needed to see that woman again, the one underneath her businesslike demeanor. The one who’d teased and taunted and laughed and kissed him like he was the only other person on the planet.
“How about you?” he asked before taking a sip of his own drink.
He saw her lips twitch with mirth. “What about me?”
He leaned forward, dropping his voice down several octaves. It was the voice Dr. Brandon Reeves had used to seduce his mistresses and the viewers. “Do you often share your taxi?”
He watched her eyes darken in response, whether it was the tone of his voice or the not-so-subtle innuendo.
“And what if I do?” Her voice took on that husky tone that he loved. The one that made his mind go way down into the gutter.
He shrugged. “No judgements over here. I just…” Ah hell, how to say it? “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t…” He dropped the sexy voice and the teasing tone. “I hope I didn’t offend you in any way. Or take advantage or—”
Her eyes widened as she reached across the table, her hand on his. “No! Definitely not. You didn’t take advantage and it wasn’t—”
He watched in awe as this poised, elegant femme fatale struggled for words like a normal human being.
“It wasn’t bad.”
He stared at her as she took a big gulp of her wine. His lips had parted to say something but then his dick started talking instead. “It… wasn’t bad?”
Jesus. It wasn’t bad? He shook his head and turned to look around the bar as if some salvation might be found there, far far away from this woman. She might as well have used those sensible pumps to crush his nuts. It wasn’t bad.
When he looked back he saw her doing that thing with her lips again. She was pressing them together. He watched in amazement as she lost the battle with laughter, shaking her head as an honest to God laugh was torn from her. “I’m sorry,” she said, gasping for air. “That came out wrong.”
“You think?” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Fuck me, she’s gorgeous when she laughs. And when she sips her wine, and when she glares. She was just beautiful, makeup or no makeup, hair up or down. The woman was strong, confident, and powerful. She was a sight to behold.
He ignored the fact that her laughter had Yvette, Kat, and the others looking in their direction. Leaning across the table, he gave her a teasing smile. “Do you perhaps want to try again?”
Still smothering a laugh, she nodded. “Yes, please.” Shifting in her seat, she toyed with her wineglass as her expression turned teasing. “The other night was good.”
“Good,” he repeated, certain now that she was teasing.
“Great?” she offered, laughter clear in her voice and sending a tidal wave of desire coursing through his body.
He gave a little snort of disgust. “You better believe it was great.”
“What was great?” Kat asked from further down the table. His gaze shot to his friends, who he’d kind of forgotten about entirely.
“Nothing,” he and Kennedy said in unison. His eyes shot back to hers and they both burst out laughing.
“Okay,” Yvette drawled. He could practically hear her eye roll but he didn’t care. His friends went back to talking amongst themselves and he and Kennedy were once again back in their own little world.
“So,” he said. “It was great, huh?” He couldn’t have held back the cocky swagger in his voice if he’d tried. And he didn’t try. He was having fun flirting with Kennedy, even if this was quite possibly the weirdest form of flirting he’d ever experienced.
“Easy there, tiger,” she said. “It was spectacular, but it was also a one-time thing.”
That was a splash of cold water, but the look in her eyes belied her statement. He could have sworn he saw the same desire reflected there but he didn’t know what to make of it. She was clearly into him.
Or into his body, at least. He wouldn’t go so far as to claim that she was into him. She’d made it very
clear that she was not. He found himself frowning at her and her small smile faded in response.
“Why don’t you like me?” Also, why did he sound like a fifth grade girl? Shit. He’d never been “cool” but he didn’t typically turn into a needy little bitch on a first date.
Or non-date. This was obviously not a date, despite the fact that he and Kennedy were the only non-couple hanging out.
She widened her eyes in surprise…or maybe it was alarm. “I, uh—I don’t not like you—I just, um—”
Her stammering was rather endearing, but he could practically see her coming up with excuses. Oh what the hell. He already looked like a fool, might as well get the truth out of her because, like it or not, he hated the fact that she hated him.
“You’re the actor.” He infused the words with the same disgust she’d done, mimicking her sneer quite well in the process, if he did say so himself. He arched one brow and gave her a little smile to ensure she knew he wasn’t angry.
And he wasn’t angry. Just confused, and a little hurt. What had he done to her to make her so disgusted by his mere presence? Most women liked him. Hell, most women threw themselves at him.
But this one seemed to think he was a blight on mankind.
She winced at his impersonation. Say what you will about his role on Days of Love but he could do a mean impersonation. It was right up there on his list of skills next to crying on demand.
“It’s not you,” she said. “I just… don’t like actors.”
Well, he couldn’t say he was surprised by that answer. “Why not?”
She shifted again, and he experienced an odd surge of triumph at finally being in the position to make her uncomfortable for once. He felt like he’d been squirming under her critical gaze all week.
“It’s not personal,” she said. He saw a flicker of pleading, there and gone quickly, but he took pity.
“Okay, fine. It’s not personal,” he said. Even though he had been an actor for nearly a decade.
She shifted again, her fingers tapping against her glass. Clearly she didn’t believe that he believed her. Probably because she wasn’t an idiot and he didn’t believe her.
Desire for Days Page 6
