“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 heck. 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 kiss 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!
He shushed the more primitive part of his brain that was loudly and obnoxiously calling for a replay of the kiss. “You can’t leave yet.”
She arched her brows in surprise and she looked… sexy. 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, dang it. 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.
Crap. He was already off to a bad start.
“I mean… I didn’t mean… ah heck.” 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…
She’s trying not to laugh.
That did it. He burst out laughing and she did too.
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 followed into a cab like some sort of siren.
The one who’d disappeared in a heartbeat.
“I’m not allowed to leave?” she asked. She arched her brows again, this time in challenge.
Oh heck, he would never try to challenge this woman. She could clearly kick his butt 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 more than a little scary.
And hot.
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 we shared the best kiss of my life. 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 that primal part of his brain 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 kiss that had shaken his entire world had been a mistake for her.
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 kiss, 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.
Oh man, that was so sexy.
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…” 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 come on too strong. 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—That is, the kiss 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 to end the conversation but what came out was, “It wasn’t bad?”
Jeez. 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 ego.
That was the best kiss of his life. 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 goodness 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. 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?”
“Good,” he repeated, certain now that she was teasing.
“Great?” she offered, laughter clear in her voice and sending a tidal wave of warmth coursing through his body.
She was teasing him, and it was…delightful.
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 a spectacular kiss, 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 heat reflected there, but he didn’t know what to make of it.
She was clearly into him. Or, she felt this attraction, at the very 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.
The question tumbled out before he could stop it.
“Why don’t you like me?” Also, why did he suddenly sound like a fifth grade girl? Crap. He’d never been “cool” but he didn’t typically turn into a needy whineypants 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 on what was otherwise date night.
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 heck. 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. Heck, 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.
She licked her lips and the action made him groan softly. This woman really shouldn’t be so tempting when she was insulting him and his life choices.
“It’s not like I hate actors,” she said, sounding for all the world like she was trying to convince herself as well as him. “I just could never date one.”
And there was the punch in the gut he had not seen coming. It seriously felt like she’d jabbed her hand straight into his solar plexus and was rooting around for his heart.
He was being melodramatic, he told himself.
But then again, he was an actor.
He took a long sip of his drink, not trusting himself to respond. He was a laid back guy by nature. He didn’t like conflict and he certainly didn’t get bent out of shape over some comments that a prickly, cold co-worker said. Even if she was beautiful and intriguing.
But much as he tried to remind himself that he did not seek out conflict, that was apparently exactly what he was doing. “What’s wrong with actors?”
He met her gaze and watched as she set her jaw and pressed her lips together into a thin line. So, he wasn’t the only one on the defensive.
Good.
“They tend to be impractical.” She lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “They’re often flaky. And they’re dreamers.” She said that last part like it was an accusation. She might as well have said, and they’re pickpockets.
He found himself staring at her with his mouth partially open, at a loss for where to even start. “Have you even met an actor before?” He shook his head. “Look, maybe some are flaky and some are impractical, sure. Just like some HR executives are probably sloppy or immature.”
He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice under control. He did not lose his temper. Like… ever. But her words made him think of the cast he’d worked with for the past decade. Yes, there had been a couple divas in the bunch, but for the most part they were hard-working and down to earth. “Do you have any idea how motivated and determined someone has to be to make it in that field? They have to face rejection daily, and still get out of bed each morning with the same enthusiasm and determination. A good number of them take demeaning jobs or work several jobs at once just to pay the bills so they can keep doing what they love.”
He leaned back, forcing himself to take another sip to calm his rapidly elevating pulse. “The actors I know work crazy long hours on set under varying conditions, spend their downtime memorizing and reading and studying, if not auditioning for other roles, and all while keeping their bodies in optimal condition on their off time.”
Kennedy’s eyes were wide with shock as he set his glass down. He caught Kat giving him a curious look from across the table but he ignored her. He couldn’t seem to look away from Kennedy. He didn’t know why her opinion mattered so much to him, but it did. And he hated the fact that she couldn’t see it.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I promise I didn’t mean you.” She bit her lip and the small show of vulnerability was nearly his undoing. This woman was such a baddie that the little gesture felt gargantuan. “I’ve been really impressed with your work ethic this week.”
Her praise felt too good. The worst part was, after everything he’d just said about actors, he felt a little disgusted with himself and entirely unworthy of her praise.
He rubbed his eyes, suddenly weary and tired. “Sorry, I just…” He looked up and met her gaze as he laughed softly. “I guess I wish I had the kind of determination and ambition that my fellow actors have.”
Her brows pulled together and she leaned forward. “What are you talking about? You’ve been working your butt off this week, and your attitude has been great.”
He laughed again, simultaneously loving and hating the fact that she was basically giving him an employee evaluation.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I meant that if I had their determination maybe I wouldn’t have quit acting just because I got killed off the show.”
Her expression softened and she dropped the HR executive routine. “Is that what you want? To keep acting?�
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He thought about it. He’d thought about little else since he’d found out he was going to lose his role. “Yeah. I mean, ideally I’d get to keep doing what I love every day, right? But when I think about going out into that world, taking roles I don’t want to pay the bills, or having to wait tables to make ends meet. I’m just not sure I’m up to it.” The sad truth of it settled over him, making him feel like a failure. For the first time since he lost his cushy gig, he saw himself in a new light. He saw himself from her perspective, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he saw.
She studied him. “Maybe you just don’t want it enough.”
He nodded slowly. There was some truth there, and he took comfort in it. If he really wanted something, he would go for it. Wouldn’t he? “I’ve also never tried anything else, so there’s always this question in the back of my mind. What if I found something else I loved?” He shifted, leaning forward, wanting to be closer to her, even though she was quite clearly his harshest critic. Or at least his most critical. “I had an acting teacher who always used to say, if there’s anything else you might be happy doing, do that instead. Because it’s a hard life and not everyone is going to make it.”
“Practical advice.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “I approve.”
“I’m so glad,” he teased. Then he turned serious. “I guess I just feel like I’ve got to see if he’s right. I need to at least see if there’s something else I could be doing that would be equally satisfying.”
She tilted her head to the side as if to see him better. “So that’s what you’re doing with the internship?”
He nodded. “That’s what an internship is for, right? To try out positions and roles?”
She pursed her lips before blowing out a long exhale. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”
He wished he knew what was going on in that brilliant mind of hers, but the fact that her tone and her expression had taken on a new look, one that was filled with something like admiration, that was enough to make his heart soar.
He temporarily forgot that he’d been beating himself up for not sticking with acting and for trying something new.
Once Upon an Ice Queen (Instalove in the City Book 3) Page 7
