Romance: The Boss (3 page)

Chapter Six

“So you’re a Marvel fan then,” the suit perseveres, raising the glass to his mouth.

As his arm goes up I notice the huge, diamond-studded Rolex sitting on his wrist.

Okay…so he’s a
really
rich player.

Maybe even a billionaire, judging by the number of those carats. This place really is a mecca for New York’s most affluent.

“Yes, I prefer Marvel,” I say reluctantly, considering whether or not I should be more respectful.

For all I know he could be a mob boss or a hit man…

“Me too. Although I’m less Green Arrow and more of a Flash kind of guy.”

It’s funny; he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would be into The Flash or any comic book, for that matter. He looks more like a Calvin Klein model who would read GQ and Men’s Health magazine.

“So Lauren, can I buy you a drink?” he asks, beaming another million-dollar smile.

“No, thank you,” I say rudely, yet am picturing what it’d be like to make out with him. Those lips look finer than silk.

“And by no, what she really means is yes!”

I throw Brooke another look like I want to throttle her.

That girl does not know when to butt out.

“Mike,” the suit calls out across the bar. “Another peacock dew droplet for the lady.”

“No! Don’t make that,” I call louder.

Another drink and I may actually find myself pulling a Brooke and following the suit over to some dark corner.

“Lauren, come on,” he says smoothly, his fingers grazing over mine. “We’re all friends here. Let me buy you a drink.”

Whoa—hold up there.

I don’t quite know what he means by friends.

I’m not a member of this bar.

I’m not one of the “glamorous.”

I have exactly $601 in my bank account and am currently unemployed.

He’s flirting with the wrong girl.

Besides, as soon as he finds out I’m just some drifter from Colorado, he’ll move on very quickly. I think I’ll save myself the humiliation.

“No, I’m good.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, Lauren, can I ask you another question?”

“Can I stop you?” I joke. But I don’t think I could stop this guy talking, no matter how hard I try.

He snickers at me with a gleam in his eye. “No.”

Just what I thought.

“By all means then, go ahead,” I say, readying myself for his final play.

This will be interesting.

“Look, I find you very attractive,” he says clearly, very clearly, like he doesn’t have anything to lose. “Do you find me attractive?”

Does he really expect me to answer that with a straight face?

“No comment,” I reply.

I’m not boosting his ego any more than it already is.

“That’s a yes,” Brooke declares. “She does.”

“She does,” he echoes in agreement.

“No I don’t!” I protest, trying not to crack up at how ridiculous the both of them are being.

“Yes you do,” he states confidently.

I roll my eyes in an effort to not appear partially charmed by him.

“Okay,” the suit says. “I’m going to put my offer on the table.”

You mean that wasn’t his final play before?

Wow.

He unbuttons his jacket like he means business, like he’s about to sweeten the pot to clench a deal.

He’s definitely a businessman.

“I’m going to go and sit back there at my table,” he states decisively, eyes still trying to coax mine. “I’m then going to wait ten minutes. If you decide to go home with me, I can guarantee you that you will not regret it.”

I shake my head at the size of his ego once again.

I’ll give him points for cockiness.

“Okay, well I think I’ve heard all that I need to. Thank you for coming over, but shockingly I must decline your offer.”

I rebuke him with the verge of a smile.

But he merely chuckles, his steel-blue eyes still holding their gaze.

“You have fire. I like that,” he says before getting up and turning abruptly to Brooke. “Brooke, it was lovely to meet you.” And then, without even bothering to look back at me as he walks away: “Lauren, like I said…ten minutes.”

Ha, the audacity of this guy.

He really doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“Oh. My. Gosh. Are you crazy? He’s hot – like mega hot!” Brooke yelps, grabbing my arm frantically like we’ve just seen a celebrity and I didn’t get an autograph.

“Oh, he’s hot alright and I think the most pretentious person I’ve ever met! I mean, who does he think he is?”

Her big green eyes blink at me beseechingly. “I think you should consider his offer.”

“Excuse me? You want me to go home with that guy? Uh-uh, I don’t do flings. If you love him so much, why don’t you accept his offer?”

“He didn’t ask me, Lauren. He asked you.”

“Well, I’m not interested in him.”

“That’s a lie.”

She’s right, it is.

But I’m not telling her that.

“Besides, this is New York. Everyone has one-night stands here. It’s part of the experience. Just do it—the great thing about a city this size is that you will never bump into him again.”

Unless I come back to this bar, that is.

“Okay, firstly,” I say. “A part of the experience? Even if that’s true, that’s really not my thing. Secondly, the girls from Sex and the City bumped into some of the men they slept with.”

“Pfft,” Brooke scoffs. “That’s Sex and the City. Plus, I bet he’s a total man in the sack! It’s just want you need! Trust me: have a fling with him. You’ll feel amazing afterward. I mean, how long has it been now? A year?”

Ouch, that actually stings a little.

“Shut up! It has not been a year…six months, tops.”

“Whatever, just down that drink and go over there. You only live once. You can even take him back to my apartment; I’ll find my own abode for the night!” Brooke licks her lips seductively and gapes back over at the two men.

I can only assume she has her eye on the other man now.

She’s right about one thing, though: the suit is ridiculously good-looking.

And hell, if I’m being honest with myself maybe my life is too PG-13?

Maybe a one-night stand is just what I need to get back into the swing of things?

And if it’s going to be with anyone, I could do much worse than Casanova over there.

“I need something stronger if I’m going to go there,” I announce, taking a deep breath before drinking the rest of my cocktail.

“Atta girl!” Brooke hollers before calling back to Mike. “Two of your most potent shots over here!”

“Brooke! You’re inexorable.”

“I don’t know what that word means,” she says perkily. “Your vocabulary has always astounded me. But whatever it means, I’m not it: I’m supportive. In a you-need-to-get-laid-stat kind of way!”

She flares another wink and then hands me the shot before Mike has had barely a chance to put it down.

“Bottoms up, girlfriend!”

Chapter Seven

“So is this the way your night usually turns out?”

I‘m standing in the middle of Brooke’s apartment in Chelsea with the suit from the bar, still dumbfounded that I’m even going through with this. He’s watching me intently from where he sits on the arm of the sofa. I can just tell I’m naked under his gaze, being revered at like a gift soon to be unwrapped.

“What?” he asks, a crease appearing in his forehead.

“You find a girl in a nice bar, go home together, and then nail her. Is that how it usually works?”

He frowns, obviously taken aback by the comment.

Not that I blame him.

Nail her?

What the hell did I say that for?

“Ah…that’s not how I would usually put it. Do people really still use the word
nail
?”

“Yes,” I say bluntly.

“Interesting.”

“I’m… I’m sorry but I’m really nervous.”

It’s true.

My palms are sweaty, I have butterflies in my stomach, and he looks like a Greek god that has just fallen from Mount Olympus.

I don’t know whether it’s the subdued lighting or the orange-blossom scented candle I lit earlier or just pheromones, but this guy doesn’t even have one bad angle.

“I can see that you’re nervous.”

“I also downed three horribly potent shots before I left the bar with you. I’m really hoping they kick in soon.”

He chuckles and crosses his arms, clearly amused. “You’re adorable.”

Adorable?

I hadn’t expected him to say that.

I don’t know whether it’s a compliment or a witty insult.

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. Now, take off your dress,” he orders, giving me a look like I should do what he says.

“R… right now?” I stammer, still hesitant to even move an inch.

“Yes, now.”

“But I hardly know you.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

That is the point.

This isn’t a date or a hang out aimed at getting to know each other; this is a hookup.

A fling.

A one-night stand with a complete stranger and for one reason only: sex.

Quick, hard, and purely adulterated sex.

“That’s true,” I finally say, taking a step forward.

He laughs discernibly at my uneasiness and then stands, taking a few strides toward me. “I’ll tell you what. How about I start?”

I watch him slip off his shirt effortlessly, a set of impeccably toned abs appearing in its place.

Wow.

Why am I surprised? Of course he was going to look like he just walked off the set of a modeling shoot.

“Your turn.”

“Nuh-uh. No way, not with all that going on,” I say, trying to be shrewd by pointing at his chest. “That can’t be real. Can it?”

“Would you like to feel it for all intents and purposes?”

Good, he’s witty too. That helps.

“No…yes…can I?”

“Please yourself.”

I feel the shots starting to work, his olive skin becoming even more splendid in the light.

I run my hands over his chest, a contrast of soft and hard bumps, almost like the touch of a smooth pebble in my hand.

“Okay,” I declare, stepping back. “They’re real. Wow, you’re like a piece of artwork. A beautifully sculptured piece of symmetrical artwork.”

“Thank you. Now, take off your dress.” His smirk has returned in glorious fashion.

“No, I need to be Photoshopped first.”

He laughs again, louder and more genuine. “You’re funny—I like that too. But I know you have a sexy body, Lauren.”

“What? How could you possibly know what I look like under this?”

“A guy can always tell what a woman will look like. And you have a great ass. That’s a good sign.”

I feel my cheeks redden instantly.

At what opportunity had he been able to check out my ass?

Oh wait—he’s a guy. Stupid question.

“Look, I don’t know if I can do…” But before I can even finish my sentence he fills the space between us, taking my head in his hands commandingly.

“I think we’ve done enough talking. Don’t you?” he breathes, the smell of whiskey and mint drifting from his mouth. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay.”

I give in completely, his lips, warm and powerful against my own.

“I want to ravage you, Lauren,” he says, practically purring out my name.

His lips move down to brush my neck, sucking on it gently and making me wet instantly.

I’d lied to Brooke at the bar: it’s been a year since I’ve been with someone; I’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

“Which bedroom is yours?” he murmurs, obviously not wanting to waste any more time.

“The first one,” I sigh, letting him lead me over to it.

He opens the door and pulls me inside, not bothering to look around or even notice how messy my double bed looks from not making it this morning.

Instead he gently reaches around to unzip my dress, letting it fall to the floor before guiding me down onto the pillow.

Wow.

So I’m really going to do this…