13. Dex
Chapter 13
With a sense of despair, I stare at the stack of work piled high on my desk. Since Nate dropped me off at the office on Monday morning after one of the most exciting and exhilarating weekends of my entire life, I’d come back down to earth with an almighty bump. Whether Bernard was still furious Nate had forced him into something he didn’t want to do, or my boss sensed a flush of happiness in me he’s determined to stamp out, he hasn’t given me a moment’s breathing space all week.
Not that it matters. I haven’t heard from Nate. At all. And that’s giving me far more sleepless nights than coping with a big baby like Bernard.
Sighing, I pick up the first file. Open it. Close it again. Release another sigh. It’s as if Nate has stolen my motivation, as well as my attention. Does his silence mean he’s changed his mind about New York? If he has then I have a problem, because he’s already cleared my debts. Jennifer called on Monday afternoon to thank me for clearing my arrears.
As I try to work through the reason for Nate’s lack of contact, the desk phone rings. It’s Bernard.
Rolling my eyes, I pick it up, but before I can say a word, he barks, “Get me a coffee. Now.” He slams the phone down.
I grit my teeth but comply without question. Someone must have ticked him off. Best to keep my head down, not draw attention to myself, and scour the internet for alternative jobs that pay as well as this one does.
Or, just as likely, win the lottery.
I make Bernard’s coffee, making sure to add exactly the right amount of cream and sugar, otherwise he’ll subject me to a hissy fit and his special acidic tongue.
I tap on his door and wait for the curt, “Enter,” like he’s a goddamn king.
“Here you are, Bernard.” I set the cup on the left-hand side of his desk. Never the right, even though he’s right-handed. Go figure. He doesn’t even look up from his computer as he stabs angrily at the keys. “Can I get you anything else?”
He glares up at me then. “Yeah, you can get the fuck out of my sight. I don’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the day. Think you can manage that, girlie?”
Girlie? Don’t punch him. Don’t punch him.
“Of course,” I murmur.
I turn to leave… and jolt to a stop. Nate is standing in the open door, his shoulder propped against the doorjamb, wearing a pair of Aviator sunglasses that hide those glacier-blue eyes, with his arms folded across his chest. His dark hair is rumpled and messy, like he’s just rolled out of bed.
God, he looks delicious enough to eat. I go to smile, then remember he’s left me hanging all week, so I glare at him instead. After a week of no contact, it’s what he deserves.
“My mother used to tell me manners cost nothing,” Nate drawls. “You should try using them sometime, Bernard.”
I drag my gaze away from Nate to glance back at my boss, tensing for an explosion when I catch the hate in his eyes.
“I can’t see you today, Nate. I’m busy, and we don’t have an appointment.”
Nate steps into the room, right next to me. The sleeve of his shirt brushes my bare arm, and a rash of goosebumps appears from pleasure rather than a chill. His fingers touch mine so lightly, I may have imagined it.
“I’m not here to see you. I’ve come to take your assistant to lunch.”
“You have?” The joy mingled with surprise in my voice lifts my tone. Just as quickly, I quash the spike of hope. It’s probably so he can let me down gently… tell me he made a mistake about New York, and put an end to our relationship.
Relationship? Pah. A weekend of hot fucking, more like.
He pushes his sunglasses on top of his head and looks down at me. I swear, I have a tiny orgasm just from the sight of his come-to-bed eyes.
“Yep.”
“She’s too busy,” Bernard interjects, even though his eyes narrow with curiosity. “Hasn’t done half the stuff I’ve asked for this week, which, considering her fifteen percent pay rise, means I should get fifteen percent more output.”
“She’s entitled to a lunch break.” Nate’s smooth voice dares Bernard to argue with him, and I know who’ll win if Bernard decides to take up the challenge. “I’ll have her back by two-fifteen.”
Bernard grunts. “She’d better be.”
Nate’s hand presses against the small of my back, and he eases me from Bernard’s office. My skin warms from his touch, and a sliver of desire creeps up my spine.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper as he closes the door with a quiet click. At least he doesn’t slam it, although that isn’t Nate’s style. He’s more the silent assassin type.
“Um, taking you to lunch?” He flashes me that perfect Hollywood smile, and my knees weaken. “Didn’t I just say that?”
I plant my hands on my hips. “I haven’t seen you all week, and then you turn up here and piss off my boss. Again. I’m teetering on the edge with Bernard, Nate. You know how important this job is to me.”
His hand curl around the back of my neck, and he bends his head, stealing a quick kiss. “Missed you, too, Titch. Now, can we go?”
Despite my lips tingling from his kiss and elation that he’s missed me, I refuse to show any reaction, even though I want to leap into the air in glee.
“You are an annoying little shit.”
He raises an eyebrow. “After last weekend, you know there’s nothing little about me.” He grabs my purse from where it’s hanging off the back of my chair, hands it to me, and slings a casual arm around my shoulder. “How about Thai? There’s a half-decent place right around the corner. They’re fast, too, which, considering we only have”—he checks his watch—“fifty-six minutes, is a good thing.”
I find myself propelled toward the elevator, my short legs struggling to keep up with Nate’s loping strides. As we spill outside into the bright sunshine, he drops his sunglasses back in place. Hiding his eyes gives him a more camouflaged appearance, although his blinding good looks still draw several interested glances. I must count at least ten women giving him the eye.
Jealousy surges through me like a swollen river following a torrential downpour. I’m so screwed. If innocent looks from passersby makes me want to gouge out their eyes, how will I feel when Nate moves on—because he will. Nathan O’Reilly is a player. A guy who likes to eat from a buffet. He’s all about new and exciting and variety. The minute I become old and dull, he’ll disappear.
Nate secures us a table in a quiet part of the restaurant. The stolen glances and murmurings tell me he’s not slipped inside unnoticed, although no one approaches us. The area surrounding my office is full of casting agencies and scouts, so seeing actors isn’t unusual.
We order lunch—the two-course special that our server assures us is part of the fifteen-minute guarantee—and a bottle of water, because, well… work. I would prefer to slug back a large glass of wine, but given Bernard’s mood and my tenuous position, water is the safer option. Alcohol loosens my tongue, and that isn’t a good idea when it comes to my boss. His ego requires a high level of tongue-biting skill, and I can’t rely on Nate’s leverage over him rescuing me forever.
“Bernard’s still being a dick, I see,” Nate says with a carefree grin.
I shrug. “I can handle him.”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute.”
Silence falls between us, and I fiddle with the tablecloth as Nate’s keen gaze rakes my face.
“What’s the matter, Titch?”
I shouldn’t say anything. I should keep my mouth shut like a good girl, smile, and tell him I’m fine. Fine is a good word, right? Especially to a man. Men are comfortable with fine.
Instead, though, I make a complete and utter fool of myself with a diatribe I won’t remember afterward, even if someone puts a gun to my head.
“Have you changed your mind about New York? If you have then we need to sort out how the fuck I’m going to pay you back. Jennifer called me. She’s the manager of the home in case you didn’t know. She told me my arrears have been cleared. So, if New York is off, then A, you should have had the courtesy to tell me and you didn’t, which makes you a bastard, and B, I need to pay you back. And before you say a word, I know I said pay you back twice. I know, okay, but, well, fuck. And I know last weekend probably didn’t mean a thing to you, but I’m not in the habit of jumping into bed with strangers, pouring out all my troubles because of their superior sex skills, then have them come up with some sort of a… a… an indecent proposal while refusing to let the other person pay their half.”
I gulp in some air, damn sure all those words came out on one single breath. Where is the water? My mouth is dry as a cracker. I scan the restaurant for our server while shredding a napkin I don’t remember picking up.
“Dex.”
I can’t face him. I don’t want to hear the truth spill from those delicious lips that have explored every single inch of me. I won’t allow him to shatter my hopes for something more between us.
“Dex. Either fucking look at me or I’m gonna do something that’ll embarrass you a whole lot more.”
I snap my eyes to his. Nate doesn’t have the embarrassment gene, so I have no doubt he’ll follow through on his threat. The details of what that could entail are anyone’s guess, but I’m not about to test him.
“I haven’t changed my mind about New York.”
“You haven’t?” My voice comes out more like a squeak.
“No.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve been pulling sixteen-hour days. We’re up against a deadline to get the latest episode of my show in the can. I haven’t had time to do anything except work, sleep, and eat.”
My face burns. “Oh.” I drop the ribbons of paper that used to be a napkin onto the table and stare at my now-empty hands.
“That’s partly why I stopped by today, actually.” A pause. A sigh. A curse. “Will you fucking look at me.”
I gradually lift my chin again, meeting his ice-blue gaze.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Nothing. Apart from the fact I’m falling too deep, too fast, and I’m going to bear the scars for a lifetime.
“I’m sorry. For ranting. It’s been a stressful week.”
Nate leans forward and caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. “It’s all good, Titch.”
Our soup arrives, preventing me from reacting to the tender moment, but my skin prickles where he touched me. The server sets down the jug of water I needed five minutes ago. The minute my glass is full, I down it in one.
“Thirsty?” Nate asks with an eyebrow arch and amused smirk.
I ignore him, and instead dig my spoon into my soup. The flavor hits my taste buds, and I make an appreciative noise. Best. Soup. Ever.
“Stop taunting me. It’s mean.”
“I like taunting you, though.” I stick out my tongue. His eyes flare.
“Point that in my direction again and I’m sucking on it.”
A sound comes out of me that’s a cross between a gasp and a snort. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He bends his head to the left and licks his top lip. “Oh, Titch.”
Desire unfurls in the pit of my stomach. There’s something so wicked about Nate. I can’t get enough. There’s no doubt he’ll corrupt me. The question is to what extent.
I clear my throat. “So, you were saying… about why you stopped by.”
He laughs. “Was I?”
I pout, and he nods at my bowl. “Eat your soup, then we’ll talk.”
A growl sounds in my throat that makes him laugh harder. I almost inhale the rest of my appetizer.
Dropping my spoon, I gesture with a flourish. “Ta-Da.”
Nate finishes at a much more leisurely pace. By the time he pushes his bowl to one side, I’m almost fizzing with anticipation and a healthy dose of annoyance.
“Enough, already.”
He gives me an innocent stare. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You’re playing games.”
He rests back in his chair and drops his napkin beside his bowl. “I wanted to see you. I needed to eat. It seemed like a good idea to do both things simultaneously. Plus…” He shifts in his chair. Jesus, Nate O’Reilly actually looks uncomfortable. My skin tickles in anticipation. “We’re doing a night shoot tonight. It’ll probably finish about two a.m. I wondered if you wanted to swing by the set, and maybe after, we could grab a bite to eat, and you could come back to my place.”
My mouth falls open. Actually drops almost to the table like a scene from a cartoon. Okay, not exactly like that, but I’m entitled to overexaggerate. I’m in shock over here. “You want me to come… to come…”
He beckons to me and whispers, “Yes, I want you to come and come and come. On my tongue, my cock, in my mouth. Over and over. But not until I’ve finished work.”
Heat almost burns the skin off my face. Nate is so comfortable with dirty talk, whereas I have some serious catching up to do.
“I’ll text you the details of where you need to go. Security will direct you when you get there, then I’ll come fetch you. Deal?”
Railroaded yet thrilled, I nod. “I’ll be there.”