Tangled Vines (6 page)

And of course Elle chooses the moment I’m staring at her, ogling her, in fact, with my mouth open and eyes wide, to scan the room. Her eyes fall on me and a look of excitement, mixed with a little disgust, passes across her face. “You okay, Owen?” Nick asks, elbowing me in the side. “You’ve been frozen like that for a few minutes. See something you like?” His eyebrow arches and a wolfish grin pulls at his lips. He tracks my line of vision and lets out a low whistle.  “Yeah, I wouldn’t be able to speak if I was staring her down either,” he adds, standing from his seat.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks, looking down at me. I’m still in my chair, unable to move, well, unless I want Elle, and everyone else in the room, to see the hard-on I’m currently sporting.

“That’s the S.U.B.,” I clarify, tipping my head over at Elle.

Nick laughs as he slinks back into his chair. “You’ve got to be shitting me. She’s fucking hot, man.” He steals another glance at her and that pang of jealousy I felt when she left with Robertson is back.

My elbow digs into his side and he looks at me with a smug look on his face. “You want her, don’t you?” Nick’s question catches me off-guard. 

“What? No,” my defense sounds weak even to my own ears.

“Real convincing, man,” Nick chuckles.

When the bulge behind my zipper has calmed enough for me to walk, I get up and go over to Elle who is still eyeing me warily.

“What are you doing here?” she snaps as I slide into an open spot at the bar next to her.

“Nice to see you, too,” I say without even looking at her. Tipping my head at the bartender, I order another round. Her anger at me simply being in the same place she is vibrates off her. So much so that when I get my beer, I lean in just to piss her off even more. With the citrusy and vanilla scent of her perfume curling around me, I whisper into her ear, “You don’t look like you’re pissed I’m here.” I trace a finger down her exposed arm, loving the fact that goose bumps dot her creamy skin as I do. “In fact, you look pretty excited to see me.”

With a huff and puff, she storms away from me, leaving me at the bar chuckling at her antics. Can’t say I mind watching her ass sway in front of me. And then watching her dance with her friends, yeah, that’s not so bad either.

Laughing as Nick finagles his way in-between two rather busty women, I still find myself watching Elle.
Ah, fuck it,
I say to myself. Three beers in and I’m feeling good. All thoughts of everything that’s been going on between the two of us – awkward first meeting, stilted encounters, ugly name-calling – melt away as I slip behind her on the dance floor.

“What the–” She jumps as I wrap my hands around the soft curves of her waist. Though she tries to maintain her prim-and-proper exterior around me, I feel her melt under my touch. It was the same the other day.

“Can’t you play nice, Elle?” I whisper into the crook of her neck. The music is too loud to tell for sure, but I think her only answer is a low groan. Knowing that I affect her, I make sure to let my stubbled jaw graze the soft skin where her shoulder meets her neck. She rolls her head to the side, clearly enjoying the rough glide of it.

As a slow song replaces the previous, fast-paced one, her body relaxes into mine. With my chest pressed against her back, her ass fits snuggly against my groin. My fingers dig into her hips, securing her tightly against my body. She rests her head against my shoulder and turns so that her lips are mere centimeters away from my neck.

“Is that nice enough for you?” Her sultry voice is seductive and raspy.

Without a second thought, I spin her in my arms, reveling in the soft feel of her tits pressed up against my chest. “This is much better.” With a sly smile, I wink down at her and we finish the song.

When the music picks back up, she excuses herself to go find her friends again. Before she’s more than an arm’s length away, I wrap my fingers around her upper arm and pull her back to me. “No, Elle. We need to talk.” The fire in her eyes is mirrored in my own, I’m sure.

No matter what tension there’s been between us, there’s no denying this attraction and if we plan to work together, we’re going to need to get along a lot better than we have been. To be honest though, working together in a professional manner is the last thing on my mind. Figuring out who the hell she is, what makes her tick, and how to get her to purr like she just did again, those are the most important things on my mind right now.

She gulps, and nods, sliding past me to an open table. My large frame eats up most of the space at the small table. A waitress comes over as soon as our asses are in the chairs. I order water and Elle gets a shot of tequila. Note to self: make sure she’s not driving and that whichever friend is driving, stays sober.

Trying her best to avert eye contact, she looks all over the room, everywhere except at me. Needing her attention to say what I have to say, I drop my hand to hers, covering it easily.

Risking my pride, and swallowing back whatever reservations I have, I clear my throat, calling her attention back to us. “What’s going on with us?” I ask. Her only response is a wide-eyed and dumbfounded look.

“What’s going on with us?” His voice is gruff and smooth at the same time.

What
is
going on with us?
I repeat to myself in my own head. The only answer I can come up with is that I have no freaking clue. Well, I mean, yeah I do – kind of. He’s hot; there’s no denying that, but that’s all there is.

Right?

His fingers snap in front of my face, breaking my dazed stare. “Earth to Elle,” he laughs, leaning forward on his elbows. His scent puts me on edge as it moves its way across the table. I hate him for putting me off my game, but dear God in heaven, I want to lick him so badly.

“Um – there’s nothing. I mean – why, what do you think?” Stammering over my own words makes me look like a blubbering idiot, but that’s pretty much what happens when I’m in close quarters with Owen.

Arching an eyebrow and pulling a lopsided smile at me, he laughs. Leaning back in his chair and raising his arms behind his head, he mutters, “Sure. Nothing. I gotcha.”

The smug jerk
.

For the life of me, I still can’t figure him out. Rough and abrasive one minute, then smooth and suave the next. There are two things I feel when I’m around Owen: turned on and pissed off.

Right now, pissed off wins. Shooting up out of my chair, it screeches behind me. The loud noise calls the attention of my friends who are on the dance floor. In a slow-motion haze, it seems as if everyone’s attention is on me, especially Owen’s. A playful look dances in his eyes as he waits for my explanation.

“You’re unbearable. You know that?” My voice is rising in volume, silenced only when Owen stands from his chair and moves right in front of me.

“I highly doubt that,” he smirks, standing in my personal space.

I poke him in the chest, not at all shocked by the rock hard pecs that meet my finger. “Well, you are. And frustrating, and annoying, and…” I pause, looking for the right word.

“And what, Elle?” He leans in closer, infinitesimally so. Regaining my composure, I pull back from him.

With a final poke to the chest, I add my final insult, “You’re an ass.” Of course, as I turn away from him, I stumble slightly, finally feeling the effects of the alcohol. His strong hand steadies me, pulling me upright next to him.

“Come with me,” he nearly growls as he walks me out of the bar.

Normally, being led by the arm out into the dark alley of a bar would scare the crap out of me but with Owen doing the leading, I’m anything but frightened.

Turned on and excited is more like it.

Dragging us into a dark recess, he pushes me up against the brick wall. “I won’t deny I’m an ass, but let’s be honest…” he pauses, leaning against me. His thigh slides in-between my legs, the denim scratching against the exposed skin of my legs. It takes everything I have not to close my eyes and revel in the feel of his body pressing up against mine. “You’ve been an ass, too.”

“Have not!” I defend, my voice bordering on a shocked squeal.

He laughs as he cups my jaw, pulling my face back to meet his persistent stare. “You have been,” he counters with finality. “But I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he adds, moving his lips within an inch of mine.

Like a fish gasping for air, I open and close my mouth, searching for the right words. When they don’t come to me, I huff in frustration.

“Do you like it?” He dances his lips over my cheek and down to my jaw and my eyes roll back in my head.

A mumbled, “hmmm” is all I’m capable of in response.

“This,” he answers my incoherent question, “me kissing you?” My eyes fly open at his words just in time to see his lips descend on mine, capturing them in a slow, tentative kiss. Like melted caramel, his lips move against mine. His tongue licks at the seam of my lips, but he’s not begging for entrance. It’s a claim he’s staking on me, branding my lips in a heat they’ve never felt before. Willingly, I open to him. Our tongues slide together. Moans fill the non-existent space between us.

When his hand knots in my hair at the nape of my neck, pulling my head back for more access to my mouth, I can’t stifle the groan of delight that passes my lips. “I’ll take that as a yes,” his words swirl through my lust-filled brain as his lips dance down my neck.

“So sweet, Elle. You taste so…” he pauses, licking a sweet and hot path down my neck, stopping just at my exposed collarbone. “So fucking good,” he finishes, looking me right in the eyes.

“There she is!” Crystal and my other friends call out from the end of the alleyway. “Hey!” They misread the situation, a frenzied sense of worry creeping in their voices. Owen throws his hands in the air, the ultimate white flag that he’s not doing anything wrong.

Still completely incapable of making any sense of what the hell just happened, I walk away from him and toward my waiting friends. “I’m fine, girls.” Chancing a last look over my shoulder, I add, “Let’s get out of here.”

Like the ass he claimed me to be, I walk away from him, his hot kisses, and angry look, trying desperately to make sense why the hell he affects me so much.

By the time Monday morning rolls around, I’ve cleared my head enough to develop a plan. It struck me as odd last week, as Owen sat at my desk, talking about profit and loss statements, and quarterly bank accounts as if he’d actually had experience with them. But since Ethan was here, picking me up for a business meeting slash dinner – one for which he gave me no notice whatsoever – I didn’t do much with it.

Sitting at my computer now, I’m ready to finally get to the bottom of the enigma that is Owen Carmichael.

Thank you very much, Google.

Why I hadn’t thought of a basic internet search on the man with whom I’m currently running a company is completely beyond me. All I can think of as an excuse is that Vincent’s death was so sudden. The legal proceedings that followed completely screwed with my head. Knowing that I needed to get the meeting with Ethan in before Owen could find out about it, I buried my nose in financial statements, figuring out the most fail-safe business plan I could come up with. In between all of that, figuring out who the hell Owen Carmichael really is, was way on the back burner.