One Good Reason (A Boston Love Story Book 3) (6 page)

I fold my arms over my chest to mirror his pose. Sadly, I doubt I’m equally intimidating.

“I don’t care about your photos,” I say, wishing my voice didn’t sound so breathy. “That’s not why I came.”

“So, I’ll just have to assume you were desperate to see me again.” His grin is sinful. “Can’t say I blame you.”

I scoff.

He makes a
tsk
noise. “First you sexually harass me last night, then you track me down at my office… Do you have a crush on me, snookums?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Fine.” He chuckles. “How about boo-bear?”

“How about I shove my foot up your ass?”

“Okay, I’ll take that as a
maybe
.” His head tilts in thought. “Pumpkin?”

“Eat a dick.”

“Cuddles?”

“Go die.”

“Cookie? Sugar? Snickerdoodle?”

“Why are all of these food-themed?”

“I’m hungry.” His grin widens. “Want to go grab lunch?”

“Are you seriously asking me out right now?”

“Of course not.” He pauses. “Why, would you say yes if I did?”

“No.”

“We’ll get something light. Chinese food.” His forehead creases. “I’m always starving thirty minutes after I gorge on Chinese. Why is that?”

I glare at him in lieu of a response.

“Okay, no egg rolls for you. Got it.” He continues as though I’m fully engaged in the conversation. “Appetizers and drinks.”

“Stop.”

“Fine, fine. Just the drinks, then. You convinced me.” He pushes off the desk and takes a step closer. His eyes gleam with good humor. “Unless you change your mind and want to grab dinner afterward, of course.”

Shameless. The man is completely, totally, one hundred percent shameless.

I wonder why I find that so sexy.

“You’re trying to distract me again,” I say in an uppity tone.

“Is it working?”

“No.”
Yes
.

“Most girls would love to have dinner with me.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

He laughs and the sound pools in my stomach like a warm shot of whiskey. “You’ll cave eventually. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m extremely persistent when I find something I want.” He takes another step in my direction. “Like the time I was in Thailand and I wanted a massive quarter-pounder with bacon and American cheese. It wasn’t easy, I had to drive almost a hundred miles… but I found a burger place. And
damn
if it wasn’t the best burger I ever had.”

“Do you take anything seriously?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Not if I can help it.”

“So you aren’t at all concerned about the fact that the entire WestTech server is down?”

He sighs. “You want to know what I’m concerned about?”

“Not really, no.”

“Cronuts.” He gestures at the plate of leftover baked goods on the sleek coffee table to his left. “I mean… is it a doughnut or is it a croissant? Who decides these things?” He shakes his head, as if deeply troubled. “What if someone put a gun to your head and made you separate all baked goods into categories? What then, huh? Where the hell would the cronuts wind up?”

I pause. “You think that’s a likely scenario?”

“Highly probable.”

I shake myself out of doughnut-related thoughts and contort my face back into my Ice Queen mask. “You’re distracting me again.”

“Am I?” he asks.

“You know why I’m here.”

“Yes, we’ve discussed this already. You simply couldn’t stay away.” He takes another step toward me. “I mean… I’ve been told my kisses are irresistible, but this is taking things to a whole new level.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late. I’m flattered.” He takes another few steps. “How could I not be? You went through so much trouble to get my attention.”

“Trouble?” I scoff. “Hacking your server took about as much brain power as chewing a stick of bubblegum.”

“Speaking of bubblegum,” he cuts in. “Funny story—”

“No!” I yell. “No more stories. No more tangents. No more charm or half-smiles or stupid little ploys to make me forget why I’m here.”

“
Charm
, huh?” He winks. “Stop, you’ll make me blush.”

I glare. “You took my thumb drive.”

“Did you say hump time?”

“Are you in seventh grade?”

“Sixth, actually, but I’m old for my year—”

“Shut up! God, how has no one strangled you yet? Are you always this annoying?”

“Would you believe, usually I’m even
more
annoying.”

“My flash stick.” I glare at him. “Portable hard drive. Fits in a USB slot.”

“That was a lot of technical jargon for a dumb elementary schooler like myself. All I heard was something about me driving my stick into your slot.”

“Cut the shit, okay? I know you have it and I want it back.”

“How do you know I have it?”

“Because…” I feel my cheeks heat. “You’re the only one who could’ve taken it.”

“When?”

“When
what
?”

“When would I have taken it?”

God, he’s going to make me say it. I grit my teeth. “Perhaps when you had your hands down my dress last night.”

“Oh, right.” His grin widens to epic proportions. “
Then
.”

“Just admit you have it so I know I’m not wasting my time.”

“I’ll tell you whether or not I have it…” He pauses. “If you tell me your name.”

“You can’t blackmail me,” I hiss. “I’m already blackmailing you!”

“How’s that?”

I throw my hands up. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the blockade I created in your entire computer system?”

“Oh, right.” His grin is unwavering. “That.”

“Yes,
that
,” I snap, slightly offended that my efforts at sabotage are being brushed off with such little concern.

“I’m sure my tech guys will figure it out. Eventually.”

I snort. “Have you
met
your tech guys?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He stares at me and some of the humor bleeds out of his eyes. His voice goes low. “Tell me your name.”

My heartbeat picks up speed. “No.”

“Fine. Then I can’t confirm or deny that your flash drive is in my possession.”

“
Jesus Christ
.” I look up to the heavens, seeking divine intervention. “This is torture.”

“This? No. This is a conversation between… friends.”

“We aren’t friends.”

“You’re right.” He shakes his head. “We’re so much more, snookums. Our connection… it’s deeper than words.”

“I loathe you.”

“You love me.”

I snort. “The day I love
you
will be the day the Red Sox and Yankees have a giant group hug on the mound at Fenway. Never gonna happen.”

“Come on. Tell me your name. I’m dying over here.”

“In that case, I’ll just wait for you to keel over, step around your corpse, and ransack your office until I find my flash drive.”

“Stone cold.” He shakes his head. “I bet you don’t want to tell me because it’s something hideous. Like
Minerva
. Or
Beatrice.
Or
Millicent.
”

“My name is not Millicent.”

“Whatever you say, Millie.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll take Millie over your other nicknames.”

“Come on. You know
my
name,” he points out. “It’s only fair.”

“Since when is anything in life fair?”

“Touché, snookums, touché.”

“Call me that again and I’ll kill you.”

“Tell me your real name and I won’t call you that anymore,” he counters. “Well, I won’t call you that
as much
. I don’t want to make sweeping generalizations about my potential future pet name use—”

“Oh my fucking god! My name is Zoe.
ZOE
!” I shout, just to shut him up. “Are you happy?”

He takes another step in my direction and I suddenly — scarily — realize he’s rather close. So close, in fact, that I can see those green flecks in his eyes up close and personal when they crinkle in a victorious smile and he murmurs, “Yes. I’m happy, Zoe.”

Hearing my name from his lips causes a visceral reaction within me. My throat goes dry. My stomach somersaults. My nipples harden beneath my bra.

Shit
.

He stares at me. “
Zoe
. Such a tiny name for such a big personality. It suits you.”

I haul in a breath, hoping he doesn’t notice that my thighs are suddenly clenched together.

God, what is it about this man? I want to strangle the life out of him… and fuck his brains out. All at the same time.

I’ve never experienced anything like it before.

“Can I have my flash drive now?” My voice is breathy.

“Must be something pretty important on it, if you’re going to this much effort to get it back.” His gaze flashes down to my mouth for a nanosecond. “I should probably ask you what’s on it.”

I pause. “Why don’t you?”

“You aren’t ready to tell me your secrets yet.” His voice is steady. “One day you will be.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” I murmur.

“I can actually hold my breath for a pretty long time. Once, I swam a hundred meters underwater from—”

Before he can launch into another ridiculous stalling tactic, I reach up and flick him right between the eyes.

“Ow!” Flinching back, he rubs at his forehead. “What was that for?”

I raise my eyebrows.

He grins. “Right. No more tangents. You didn’t have to resort to violence.”

I plant my hands on my hips and crane my neck to glare directly into his eyes.

“Okay, okay. You win.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Fix the computers and I’ll give you your damn flash drive.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

His eyes narrow fractionally. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”

I press my lips together, displeased by that notion. “That’s assuring, considering you’re the one who stole it from me in the first place.”

“How about we shake on it?” he asks, extending his hand into the space between us. When I make no move to return the handshake, he waggles his fingers wildly. “Oh, come on. Humor me.”

I sigh and, without letting myself think too deeply about what I’m doing, grudgingly reach up to slide my palm against his. The feeling of his callused skin against the soft pads of my fingertips jolts through me like static shock. It takes all my self-control not to react as he squeezes my hand and pumps it slowly up and down, his eyes locked on mine.

After a few seconds of torture, I yank my hand from his warm grip and spin away. I practically sprint over to the computer sitting on his desk. I feel him following close at my heels and do my best to ignore his presence.

Just fix the computers, get your flash drive, and get out of here before you do something you regret. Like jump his bones.

To my great annoyance, when we reach the desk he pulls out the computer chair for me to sit. He may be an ass, but he’s a gentlemanly ass.

“Milady,” he says with a mocking bow.

I flip him off and drop into the leather seat, wiggling the mouse to activate the screen.

“What did you change my password to?” he asks, watching my fingers key in the phrase.

I smirk. “
Parker West Wets His Pants
. One word. All lowercase.”

“And you accuse
me
of being immature?”

“You are immature.”

“Just fix the damn network.”

I ignore him and get to work. It only takes a few minutes — blasting a dam apart is a lot easier than building one from scratch — and when I tap out the final sequence of code, I look up to find Parker staring at me incredulously.

“What?”

“Who
are
you?” he mutters, something like awe in his tone. “CIA? NSA? FBI? Some other three-lettered agency whose name is too classified for public consumption?”

I shrug, push back the chair, and rise to my feet. “I’m the girl who’ll kick your ass if you don’t fork over her flash drive.”

He grimaces. “Here’s the thing…”

I go still.

“…I don’t exactly have it,” he finishes.

“What?” The word cracks out like a whip. “We had a deal! Don’t fuck with me, playboy, or so help me, I will hack into the FBI database, steal your fingerprints, frame you for murder, and send you to rot in prison for the rest of your days.”

“That’s rather elaborate,” he says, chuckling. “You’ve really given my demise some thought.”

“Would you like a cellmate named Diablo or Hulk?” I tilt my head. “Then again, it probably doesn’t matter. I’m sure either of them will be happy to make you their new bitch.”

“Chill, Piper Chapman. You didn’t let me finish. I don’t have the flash drive
with me
.” He grins, totally unaffected by my death threats, and reaches out to grab my hand. I’m so stunned by the casual action, I don’t even move to pull away until it’s too late.

“Where is it?” I ask as he starts walking, tugging me behind him. His fingers are fully intertwined with mine — I feel the soothing stroke of his thumb against the back of my hand when I try to squirm loose.

“Patience, grasshopper.” He holds the door to his office open for me to step through. “You’ll see.”

“You expect me to just go along with you without asking any questions?” I stare hard at the spot between his shoulder blades as he leads us down the hallway. “I’m not one of your stupid bimbos. I don’t even know you!”

He slams to a halt so suddenly, I almost run straight into him. When he turns his head to catch my gaze, there’s something simmering at the back of his eyes. It looks like a challenge.

“You’re afraid.”

“Of
you
? Hate to break it to you, but no.” My denial is swift. “I could kick your ass.”

“Doubtful,” he mutters. “But that’s not what I was talking about.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“You’re afraid to be alone with me.”

I snort. “Oh,
please
.”

“You’re afraid you won’t be able to control yourself in my proximity.”

“Get over yourself.”

“You’re afraid, my sweet snookums, that one more minute in my presence will make you fall head over heels—”

“If you stop talking right now and don’t say another word until we get the flash drive, I’ll go with you.”

His lips slam shut and his eyes crinkle in an undeniable smile. He’s clearly pleased with himself.