Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Marie
I’ve been a wreck all day long.
Jumpy. Off-kilter.
Forgetful.
The only good thing is that Jean-Michel is out of town.
So, he wasn’t there to witness my failings…and then press me into spilling my guts.
I’m sure he’ll hear about it.
Attie had sure looked at me sideways during our brief meeting—I’d pulled together some additional material for her and her team—but the case with Angela was heating up so rapidly that, luckily for me, she was too busy to really interrogate me.
Likely, that will come soon enough.
And likely, none of those will come soon enough to get me out of this date.
I thought about blowing it off, disappearing to a hotel again, maybe scheduling an emergency business trip to take care of something extraneous and unimportant…but something that needed to be taken care of in a time zone far, far away.
But Jace will just be here when I get home.
Ready to pounce…or maybe goad me into losing my temper and agreeing to a wholly stupid date.
Sex is easy.
Dates are…not.
They lead to me being an idiot.
“And you’re not being an idiot right now?” I ask my reflection.
Because even though it would make the most sense to put on my ugliest, frumpiest dress, to slap on my makeup in the most unflattering way…something stopped me.
Or maybe, something egged me on.
To pull out my sexiest little black dress, my skimpiest lingerie to wear beneath it, my strappy silver sandals.
So maybe, I’m determined to torture him—and also myself, imagining his reaction to the various parts of my outfit.
Or maybe, I just want him to think I’m beautiful.
That thought has alarm bells blaring through my head, has the reality of what I’m doing, what I’m playing with ricocheting across my mind.
The tornado inside my brain has become an F5.
I’m spinning out, caught in the dangerous crosshairs, debris flying my way.
“I can’t do this,” I hiss at my reflection, reaching for my makeup wipes.
But before I can open the package, there’s a knock at the door.
“Shit,” I whisper, freezing, wondering if whoever is on the other side—likely a certain troublesome billionaire—is going to go away.
My answer comes approximately ten seconds later…
With another knock.
I look around my bathroom like an escape hatch is suddenly going to open up—and when, spoiler alert, it doesn’t , I glare at my reflection.
Too much boobage.
Too much leg.
Too…just much.
But there’s another flipping knock and?—
“Open up, cookie!” Jace hollers through the wood. “I can hear the trashy show playing on the TV and know you’re in there.”
“Dammit,” I whisper.
I should have put my earbuds in and blasted a podcast, then I could have legitimately ignored the knocking.
Unfortunately, I can’t.
Because it keeps coming.
And it’s just us on this floor. The man can knock till his heart’s content and not disturb anyone—or anyone aside from me.
So, I know I just need to get this over with.
I scowl at the clock as I walk to the door, noting that the annoying man is fifteen minutes early, probably—rightfully—assuming that I’d be freaking the fuck out and pulling the plug on this shit right about…well, ninety seconds ago.
It’s that annoying thought paired with the still annoying knocking that has my scowl deepening, my focus not on checking the peephole.
But on giving Jace Henderson a piece of my mind.
Except, the sharp retort doesn’t escape the tip of my tongue.
Because I’m swallowing it, my mouth dropping open, heat boiling in my belly, sending a flush over me from head to toe.
Jace just smiles sexily at me. “Hey there, gorgeous.”
More heat, liquid desire gathering between my thighs, my nipples tightening when his gaze leaves my face, trails oh so slowly down my body.
And then I’m being proverbially reduced to ash.
Because I get to see the way his face changes as his stare traces over my body…
I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so breathtaking.
“Gorgeous,” he repeats softly, stepping forward and gently touching my cheek.
We stand there, close together, silence stretching, staring into each other’s eyes. I’m studying the golden flecks in those hazel irises, mixing with the green and brown. They look different today, more green and I think it’s because of the hints of emerald in his shirt.
A shirt I can only see a small triangle of.
Because the rest of his body is clad in a suit that is fitted to such absolute perfection that even the most celibate people on the planet would line up to get a look.
He’s strong, his frame powerful—something I knew from that night in the gym, from the naked horizontal (and otherwise) time I spent with his body. And it’s not like I haven’t seen him in a suit before—that night of the fundraiser, several times here in the building.
But this suit is different.
Or maybe it’s that I’m different.
Something that has alarm rippling through me—alarm that doesn’t have a chance to take charge and erect even stronger barriers against this man because he’s stepping toward me, those fingers trailing down my cheek, running lightly over the edge of my jaw. Then he shifts slightly and I hear a crinkle and?—
My heart rolls over in my chest.
“These are for you.”
Maybe I’d expect flowers, especially on a first date, but my nose tells me differently even before he unrolls the top of the bag, revealing?—
Molly’s peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.
Another hard pulse of my heart, the organ launching itself against my ribs.
“Jace—”
He steps by me and brings the bag to the counter in the kitchen, carefully rolling the top back down so the goodies stay fresh.
The suit that fits him like sin.
The cookies he brought because he knows I like them.
The careful preservation by gently rolling the bag back down…
I know I’m in trouble.
Because all my plans of telling him this date is off, to go home and leave me to my reality TV because we are never— ever —going to happen fly right out of my head.
“Grab your purse, cookie,” he orders softly.
And I don’t even resist.
I just grab my phone and purse, let him help me into my coat, and I…
Follow him right out the door.