2. Ivy
IVY
Callum looks down at the stainless steel Vacheron Constantin watch I gave him for Christmas, then back at me. “I’m on the clock.”
“You’re on the clock with me.” I use my best insistent tone. My CEO voice.
Only, it doesn’t work on him. He’s immovable when it comes to rules. Always has been. “I don’t drink on the job,” he says, his tone clear and controlled. The command in it sets a fire inside my belly. I want him to use that voice with me in other ways. So many other ways.
“Ever?”
A shake of his head. “I don’t bend. Bending doesn’t keep you safe. But I’ll join you and have a glass of water. I want you to enjoy yourself, Ivy. To relax a little.”
I huff, like this is the height of compromise, when truth be told, I’ll gladly take a few moments with him any way I can.
Stolen, even though they’re in public.
But I’ll take what I can get. A year of longing for one man can do that to a woman. Can make you hungry for the slightest morsel of more .
I give him a smile. “I hear the water is incredible at Speakeasy,” I say as we walk toward the new bar. “So are all the cocktails. Not only are they delish, but they’re also beautiful to gaze at.”
“That’s the theme of this place after all. Beautiful ,” he says, and for a second, I swear he says, Like you.
But that’s my fantasies taking the wheel. Those are just wishes and wants.
Callum wouldn’t do that. Callum wouldn’t say that.
His eyes might roam over me all day long, but that can easily be excused as him doing his job. I can’t let myself imagine that the man I crave is wishing and wanting the same thing too.
At the bar, a quick scan of the vintage-style menu has my head spinning.
Everything looks tasty, but I’m tired of thinking.
With a sigh, I place a hand on his arm. “Will you order for me? I don’t want to have to think.
Then we’ll chat. I want to know what you think of everything.
You know I value your opinion, and I trust you to give it to me honestly. ”
He locks his gaze with mine. “I’m always honest with you, Ivy.”
The way he stares at me sends a bolt of heat to my chest, then down my body on a fast track between my legs.
He doesn’t take his gaze off me, and I turn hotter, the temperature under my skin soaring.
I don’t know if his look right now is unintentional, or if one tight, tense year of simmering desire has gone both ways.
A little breathless from his hot stare, I say, “I’m honest with you too.”
That’s true, except about one little thing.
I fantasize about him, and I’m not honest about that.
I’ve pictured him doing very bad things to me. Throwing me down on my Alaskan king bed, tying me up, holding me down, taking me.
So many times I can’t count.
I’m not honest with him about that. Or the way he finishes in those fantasies.
There is no need to tell him that at night he does filthy, unspeakable things to me. I should keep my darkest, most private thoughts to myself. That’s where they belong, after all.
Still, I shiver as the images flick before my eyes, though I try my best to bat them away while Callum signals the bartender.
The goateed man closes the distance in seconds, his gray eyes swinging to me right away. “What can I get you, Ms. Carmichael?”
Callum rests an elbow on the bar. “She’ll have a Long-Distance Lover,” he tells the man, but looks at me. My God, the word lover on Callum’s lips is inviting. He says it like I’m what he wants to drink.
Or maybe my dirty imagination is running away with me again.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Anything for you?”
“Make it an iced tea,” Callum says.
“Coming right up, sir,” the goateed gentleman says, then tosses a smile my way. “Good to see you, Ms. Carmichael. This will be the best Long-Distance Lover you’ve ever had.”
I flash him a cheery grin. “I have no doubt, Henry,” I say.
The bartender’s eyes light up, clearly delighted I know his name. Well, name tags do help.
The man turns to mix the drink while Callum and I grab a quiet booth in the corner, with two walls surrounding it.
That’s Callum’s MO. He doesn’t leave me in the open.
That’s how the stalker got close to me a year ago.
Too close for my comfort, saying things about my family, my parents, as if my parents had told him about me.
I shudder at the memory of that terrible night, but I’m grateful he hasn’t stepped foot in here since.
“So, what’s on tap for you tonight after you clock out? Must be a late night, since you leveled up to iced tea.”
“Oh, yes. I’m getting ready to party.”
I laugh, since that’s not his style at all. “And by ‘party’ I presume you mean going to the boxing gym? The gun range? A Krav Maga class?” I ask, teasing but not quite. He’s devoted to keeping up all his necessary job skills.
Callum glances at his watch again. “Actually, I’m seeing a friend.”
Friend? A wild wave of jealousy roils through me. Is Callum involved with someone? Does he go home to a woman at night? How did I not know this? He knows nearly everything about me, and now I’m just learning he has a friend .
“A friend?” I ask, and it comes out strangled.
His lips quirk. There’s that grin. That naughty, cocky grin. He moves the slightest bit closer. “A buddy. From years ago.”
I breathe out, visibly relieved. “Good,” I say, before I’m aware that word slipped from my lips.
He lifts a brow. “Why is that good?”
I try to make light of my gaffe, but making light turns into flirting. “It means I get to command all your attention.”
His eyes twinkle with mischief. “You already do, Ivy.”
The bartender brings over my drink and Callum’s iced tea, and I thank Henry, then take a sip, savoring the gin and lemonade. “This is terrific. A little sweet, but with a little kick.”
“Sounds like you,” Callum says, and he’s definitely being flirty too.
Maybe something is in the air tonight.
“So, why’d you pick the Long-Distance Lover for me?” I ask, then I’m momentarily distracted by the scene a few booths over.
A gorgeous redhead in a slinky emerald dress is flanked by two men.
One has his hand in her hair, stroking her locks. The other sets a hand on her leg.
“Supposedly, it tastes good on your lips,” Callum says and the innuendo in those flirty, potentially dirty words settles like sex on my skin as I continue staring at the trio.
Shamelessly.
I should stop looking.
They’re my customers, and staring isn’t nice.
But staring is oh so nice .
Oh so sexy.
Because there she is, enjoying herself in public, letting herself feel adored by two strong men who look enrapt with her.
His words register, and I shift in my seat and tear my gaze away for a split second. “Oh, really?” I ask playfully, smiling at him, this moment made stronger because of the company I’m keeping, this man beside me who makes me feel everything. And I can’t help myself. I need another look.
She’s . . . the center of attention. Her eyes flutter closed. One man whispers in her ear.
I swallow, my mind awash in a fresh reel of images, picturing the things they do to her, the ways they get off to her, for her, on her.
I try to shove the images aside, but ignoring them is too hard. I take another drink.
“I guess you like your drink,” Callum says, a knowing tone in his voice.
I lock eyes with him. “I like it so much.”
Even to my own ears, I sound like I’m in a hazy trance.
I feel like I am.
And I think my bodyguard knows.
I think, too, that he likes it.
And I have to wonder if he’ll like all my other kinks. Or if I’ll have to continue keeping them to myself.