by Kendall Ryan
When I reached the office, Evie was standing with her back to the door, facing a back wall that was covered with images of women in gorgeous lingerie. The splashes of color and the layout of her presentation were so eye-catching, I found myself distracted for an instant by the sheer punch of it.
“Hey, Smith, everything okay?”
She blushed a little as our gazes connected, and for a moment, I was silent as the memory of our kiss passed between us again.
“Uh, yeah. Wait. No.” I scrubbed a hand over my jaw and motioned for the two of us to sit. “Look, I just got a call from Arabella Christianson. She said you were supposed to send her your proposed ad campaign yesterday.”
Evie’s brows drew into a frown as her cheeks drained of color. “No. That’s not correct. I have it here in my notes . . .” She turned and began riffling through a pile of papers on her desk, tugging one out and holding it aloft. “This is due by end of business today. I still have a few hours.”
She slid the page across the desk to me. Sure enough, the time and date were written there in Evie’s graceful script and underlined twice.
That was good, but it would only take me so far. In her mind, Arabella still believed the agreement was for yesterday.
“I figured as much. You’re never late on anything, and I know how hard you’ve been working on this. Did you firm up these plans via e-mail or phone?”
“Shit. I’m pretty sure it was on the phone.” Evie shot a glance over her shoulder and turned back to me, looking as vulnerable as I’d ever seen her. “This would suck if it reflects on us poorly because, to be honest, it’s been done for two days. I’ve just been putting off sending it until the last minute because I’m nervous that she won’t like it.”
“That’s not possible. I know Arabella.”
“Arabella?” Evie paused, her eyes narrowing. “What’s the story? Is there something I should know?”
I cleared my throat. “It was a long time ago.” And not something I wanted to get into with Evie—ever.
“And what, you’re older and wiser now?” Her eyes narrowed further into the shape of slivered almonds, and I felt my stomach tense.
“Yes, and more importantly, I know how to show some restraint.”
“What does that mean exactly, Smith?”
“It means you have nothing to worry about.” That part was true.
“Why would I be worried? There’s nothing between us, right?”
“The truth is, she and I have a history. Let me go smooth this over. I’m afraid she’s got some old hang-ups, and this really isn’t about you at all.”
Evie shot me a now wide-eyed glare, curiosity written all over her features.
“She and I were connected in the past. And she might be trying to sabotage you to punish me. I’ll handle it.”
“No way. You’re not fighting my battle. And what kind of relationship?”
“It was purely physical.” The words felt sour in my throat. I hated admitting this to Evie, but I wouldn’t lie to her.
“So you slept with her?”
“Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I hated myself. The look of disappointment that flashed on Evie’s features was brief but unmistakable. A few seconds of silence passed between us, and I was left feeling like even more of an asshole than I was.
I shook my head slowly and took another long look at the collage of campaign elements. “If Arabella doesn’t like the campaign you created, then she’s a fucking idiot, Evie. This is brilliant.”
And it was. She’d struck the perfect balance between sensuality and class, each image showcasing the pieces to their best advantage. One teddy in particular caught my eye and I cocked my head, imagining Evie in that very outfit.
“That color would look amazing on your skin,” I murmured softly, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You’d look am—”
“Fucking horrible in that outfit,” a low voice chimed in sharply from behind me. “Ew, Smith. Don’t be imagining my little sister in this shit, or I’m going to have to fire you both,” Cullen said, stepping between us.
Evie’s cheeks turned the color of cooked beets, but I managed to keep it together.
“It’s a pretty color, buddy,” I said with a grin. “It would look great with her hair. Don’t get your panties in a wad.”
Cullen grunted and then shrugged. “Whatever. Still gross. The three of us need to have a quick discussion about the new line with manufacturing in an hour, so clear your schedules, all right?”
Evie gave her brother a thumbs-up, and I nodded. “Sure thing.”
He turned on his heel and left, already on to the next thing, seeming to forget all about the fact that I’d been imagining his sister in a peach teddy. That didn’t help either Evie or me, though, because we were left gazing at each other guiltily.
“I’m going to go see if I can talk Arabella down,” I said, breaking the tension. “And if not, don’t stress. I know that once she sees this, all will be forgotten anyway.”
Evie gave me a grateful smile and waved. I’d made it all the way to the door before I couldn’t stop myself from turning back.
“You would look super hot in that lingerie, though. Just saying.”
A pair of satin panties whizzed past my face, hitting the door frame. When I looked back at Evie, she was casting a scowl in my direction.
• • •
Once at home, I felt the stirrings of a headache forming. Huffing out a deep breath, I sat down on the side of my bed. I just needed a fucking minute here. I raked a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of all this new pressure on my shoulders.
Reaching into the drawer of my nightstand, I pulled a worn slip of paper from inside a familiar envelope. The paper’s edges were soft, and the faded ink reflected its age. As much as it evoked memories of my less-than-desirable beginnings, it was almost comforting in a way too.
I was left at four years old with just the clothes on my back—a size too small and fraying at the edges—along with this note in the parking lot of an emergency room downtown. My fingers traced the barely legible scrawl absently. I remembered nothing of my life before, and my adoptive mom said that was a good thing, but I wasn’t so sure. Even some sad memories would have helped me piece together the fragments of my early childhood.
The blank space was left to fester, growing wider, deeper with each passing year. It was an emptiness inside me that nothing in my life had been able to fill—and believe me, I’d tried. Booze. Women. Fast cars. I’d tried it all.
Now I’d resigned myself to live with that hole in my chest. I kept my head down, throwing myself into my work to compensate for the missing puzzle piece inside me. But what else could I do?
I stuffed the paper back inside its resting place, knowing I was about to get deeper into my own issues before I found my way back out again.
Chapter Sixteen
Evie
I was a walking cliché. The once-ugly duckling who had shed her baby fat and awkward phase but was still too chickenshit to believe she was pretty.
I let out a heavy sigh, checking my appearance one more time. I might not like what I saw in my reflection, but that was silly, right? Smith saw me that way. He saw me as a sexual woman who’d wanted to explore, someone smart and capable and funny. He even said I’d look beautiful in that lacy peach lingerie. We worked in the business of seductive undergarments, but I’d never let myself believe I would be wearing them for a man, let alone Smith, of all people.
Fuck it.
Turning on my heel, I grabbed my purse and strutted from my apartment.
I wouldn’t know unless I tried . . .
Chapter Seventeen
Smith
Meet me at Restaurant Saint Germaine at seven on Friday.
I glanced at my text to Evie once more just to confirm the time and then checked my watch. Five after. She was always punctual, if not early, and I was starting to think I was about to get the blow-
off.
The week at work had gone by at a snail’s pace. Once I’d smoothed over the whole cock-up with Arabella, largely helped by the fact that Evie had indeed hit the ad campaign out of the park, there had only been mundane number-crunching to focus on. That left way too much brain space for me to think about Evie. The kiss in the copy room, and most of all, our date tonight.
I settled into my seat at a corner booth of the famed restaurant and glanced at the door again.
If there was even going to be a date.
She’d said yes when I texted her the other day, but maybe the weirdness of witnessing Cullen’s response to our exchange had finally gotten to her and she’d chickened out. I wouldn’t blame her one bit. It was fucking weird for me too. But things had escalated to the point that I was past caring. We would deal with Cullen when the time came.
For now, I knew that I was on the cusp of something with Evie. Something special. Something I’d never felt before. Something that was equal parts intriguing and maddening. Something that had the potential to quiet the demons inside me that whispered in the dark of night that I was unlovable and bound to be alone for life.
It might even be—
“Hey, you!”
I looked up to see Evie standing next to the table wearing a cream-colored blouse and a black leather skirt that fit like a second skin. Her hair was up in an elaborate twist that made me want to yank out the pins just to see those curls go tumbling around her shoulders.
My heart stuttered in my chest, and I stood. “You look amazing,” I murmured softly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. I breathed in her scent while I was at it, and my cock stood at immediate attention.
“Thank you,” she replied, her smile a little shy. “The skirt is a little much for me . . . kind of racy, but I figured what the hell?”
What the hell, indeed? I resisted the urge to skim my fingers across the buttery-soft leather and cup a handful of ass, and instead gestured for her to sit.
“I wish you’d let me pick you up next time,” I said, sitting back down across from her.
“After the close calls we’ve had with Cullen lately?” she said with a snort. “Our luck, he’d be pulling in for a surprise visit right as we walked out. Uber is fine. If you want to take me home tonight, though . . .”
She trailed off, her eyes blazing, and my pulse raced to warp speed.
“Ma’am, may I off-air you a beverahge?” the waiter who had magically appeared asked in the thickest, most put-on French accent I’d ever heard.
Evie blinked up at him, her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
He smiled, but there was an edge of annoyance as he replied. “I said, what may I get you to drink?” His accent was no less obnoxious, but this time, she understood him because he added a pantomime of a person drinking from a glass, his pinkie extended.
“Uh, sure. I’ll have . . .” She shot me a glance and I shrugged, motioning to my Scotch. I’d been spared this fake-accent routine because I’d ordered mine at the bar before sitting, so she was on her own. “A glass of chardonnay, please.”
He bent in half in a deep bow, nearly beaning his head on the corner of the table, and Evie winced.
“I weel return momentarily weez your libation,” he said before turning on his heel and sauntering away.
Evie stared after him and then turned to me. “Holy crap,” she murmured, and burst out laughing.
I’d always loved that laugh. It rocked her whole body and rang through the room. Apparently, though, not everyone was as impressed. A pair of diners a few seats away sent disapproving glances our way. I kept the grin on my face and raised my glass to them before taking a deep swallow.
Fuck them. If Evie’s contagious laugh didn’t charm the pants off them, they were clearly raised by wolves.
When she finally stopped giggling, Evie held a hand to her heaving chest and shook her head. “I’ve been to some nice places in my life, but this one takes the cake. There are five forks, Smith. Five. Even I don’t know what to do with that many,” she whispered, jabbing a finger toward the gleaming utensils. “I’m feeling a little out of my element.”
I was about to argue with her, to tell her she would fit in no matter where she went. But the truth was, when I’d planned the date, I just wanted to impress her. This place was a Michelin three-star restaurant and made all the magazines. After our first date at my apartment where we’d eaten a humble roasted chicken, I’d wanted to knock her socks off.
But that wasn’t Evie, was it?
This was a generic fancy date for a generic woman. Evie was right. The only reason she was out of her element was because this place wasn’t good enough for her.
I dug into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and dropped a fifty on the table. Then I stood and held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
She let out a puzzled laugh and eyed me suspiciously. “And go where?”
“You’ll see,” I replied, a plan already unfolding in my mind.
Tonight would be a night Evie would never forget, and it wouldn’t be because of any stars or fancy food. It would be because the date was for us and only us.
• • •
“I thought this place closed down last year,” she said, shooting me a shocked look as we pulled up to Rap Scallion’s Bar and Grill less than an hour later.
“Nope. Granted, nobody we know comes here anymore because it’s still a college bar, but they’re open and it’s Friday Five-Cent Wing night, and they have a trivia contest going on.”
When her eyes went suspiciously glassy, I knew I’d done good. This was the same bar we’d gone to on her twenty-first birthday. Up until the point that she’d lost her cookies, she’d had a great night. We all did. Sometimes I wondered if I’d known then that things had changed between us and had refused to admit it to myself.
“Thank you for bringing me here. Lots of great memories,” she said, reaching out a hand and laying it gently on my chest. She shifted on the seat of my car and then gasped. “Oh my God, but look at what I’m wearing. I think I’m just a little overdressed, no?”
“Except that one time you were naked in my hotel-room bed, you always seem overdressed to me, so I’m not the guy to ask,” I said with a wink. “But I can help if you’re worried about it.” I shrugged off my suit jacket and tossed my tie aside before facing her again. “Let’s get this hair down first.”
I reached for the twist like I’d been dying to do since she first walked into the restaurant, and with a few gentle tugs, sent the whole mass tumbling down in a cascade of honey waves. I ran my fingers through it until it looked sexy and mussed, like she’d just left my bed.
“Perfect,” I murmured, my voice gritty.
Her throat worked as she swallowed and nodded. “Good start. What else?”
I trailed my hands down her neck to the buttons of her blouse, flipping open one and then another until a sexy hint of cleavage showed. It took a Herculean effort not to bury my face between her breasts and stay there until morning. I worked up one more surge of self-discipline and untucked the hem of her blouse, unfastening two buttons at the bottom as well and knotting it at her waist. It was only then that, in the moonlight, I realized I’d uncovered a swath of fabric.
Peach lace.
“Ahhh, fuck,” I groaned. My gaze locked with hers, and her breathing became choppy as she wet her lips.
“Y-you said you wanted to see me in it,” she whispered, her voice so low I had to lean in to hear her.
I sure had. In her office a few days before, I’d pointed to this very piece of lingerie. And now, here she was wearing it.
For me.
My resolve not to sleep with her was hanging by a fucking thread, and that thread was unraveling faster by the second.
“I want to see the rest of it more than you could possibly know.” In fact, my dick was so hard, it could have crushed coal into diamonds. “But if I unfasten one more button, we’re never getting out of this car.�
�
“Would that be so bad?” she asked.
She gnawed on that bottom lip the way she always did, and I let my thumb caress just a scant inch of the soft fabric before pulling back.
“Yup. Because if you think your real first time is going to be in a car, you’ve lost your mind.”
And if I didn’t get out of said car, I was going to lose mine.
I pressed a hard, rough kiss to her mouth because I couldn’t not do it, and then I flung open my door. “Now, let’s go have some fun.”
Luckily, we did. We strutted into Rap Scallion’s hand in hand like we owned the place. We got a few looks from the jeans-and-T-shirt crowd, but soon enough, everyone went back to their beers, and Evie and I were engaged in a heated battle at the dartboard.
“All I need is a bull’s-eye and I win,” she said, rubbing her hands together with glee as she lined up the tip of her high-heeled shoe with the piece of black tape that marked the floor. She closed one eye and perched the tip of her tongue on her top lip as she focused.
As competitive a person as I was, I felt a rush of pride wash over me as she launched that dart into the heart of the board. The electronic game beeped and blinked wildly in celebration of her victory, and she danced along with the noise in time.
“Oh yeah, oh yeah, I’m a beast!” she chanted, shimmying in place as I looked on, shaking my head in mock disappointment.
In truth, I could have watched her shimmy all night. A swath of that peach lace flashed at her waist whenever she moved, and it was doing things to my insides that I couldn’t even describe.
I strolled toward her and bowed deeply like the waiter at the restaurant. “Congratulations, mademoiselle. May I buy you a victory drink?”
She grinned and nodded. “Yes, please. No Sex on the Beach, though. Shot and a beer for me.”
We made our way back to the bar and I placed our drink order. While we waited, she sent me a grin that lit up the room.
“This was a great idea. I’m having a blast. Remember the night of my birthday, when we first got here we did that trivia contest? And Cullen made our team name Multiple Scorgasms?”
