I almost gasp, but disguise it with a forced yawn. “No,” I say. Unless you count the fact I rode in your car this morning. “Just don’t think he likes me.”
“I wouldn’t worry. The only person he likes is his reflection in the mirror.” There’s a playfulness in his voice that makes me smile and, for the first time, I feel relaxed in his presence. “Get tech on the phone for me.”
I pick up the phone and dial, but I don’t know what he hopes to achieve. I’ve rang them four times already. “They’re waiting for one of their guys to finish up in Middleton. They can’t get here before nine.”
He winks and it sends a rush of heat surging through my body. Fuck me, he’s beautiful. He’s still an arse, but a damn gorgeous one.
“This is James Holden, CEO of Holden House. A member of my staff requested technical support several hours ago and I find your response time utterly unacceptable. I want assistance in my building within twenty minutes or I’ll take my business elsewhere.” There’s a brief pause while James gives the poor sod on the other end of the line a chance to speak, and then he puts the phone back in its cradle. “They’re on their way.”
Wow. “Impressive.” I’m more than impressed. I’m actually a little turned on. I won’t give him the pleasure of knowing that, of course. He’s still a twat.
James shrugs. “I don’t pay good money for bad service.”
Damn, he’s so close to me. There’s no way I can bring my legs down from the table without touching him, so I don’t try, even though I’m getting cramp in my calves. I assume he’ll leave soon. There’s no reason for him to stay.
“Is your car in the garage?”
“It’s being picked up in the morning. My brother sorted it.” I arranged it with Tom a few hours ago and he offered to cover the repair costs, too, until I get paid.
“How old is your brother?”
My brow wrinkles in confusion. “Twenty-nine.”
“And you’re the youngest?”
“Um, yeah.” Where is this going? “Why?”
“Just trying to work out how old you are. It’s not business related, so I can’t ask you directly, right?” A sly smile dances on his lips and I want to slap it straight off the beautiful bastard.
“You mean you haven’t looked it up on my file?”
“That’s too easy. I prefer a challenge.”
“Unfortunately for you, so do I.”
I don’t know what’s changed but I have no problem staring at him right now. His intense gaze pierces mine and I allow it. I have no choice. I don’t think I could look away even if I wanted to.
“So why did you get into publishing?” I probe, and realise it’s the first time I’ve actually asked him a question of any significance.
“It was expected of me,” he says, and I think I hear a hint of sadness in his voice. “This business has been in my family since the early nineteen-hundreds. I took over from my father just before he passed away.”
“I’m sorry.” I wonder if that’s where the pain in his eyes stems from. “My dad died, too.”
“We were close.” His voice is low as he stares down at his knees. “He saw something in me that no one else does. Even me.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t. Weirdly, I want to touch him, maybe even hold him, but I don’t do that either. Instead, I freeze, my eyes refusing to abandon his troubled face.
After several seconds that feel like hours, he looks at me, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his cheeks. “Sorry. Bit heavy for a Tuesday night, eh?”
I want to agree, but I can’t. I can’t seem to do anything but stare at him.
“I should get going,” he says, standing up and turning immediately away from me. “Let me know if the tech guy doesn’t show. I don’t want you waiting around all night.”
“I…” I pause while I remember how to breathe. “I don’t have your number.”
James stops next to the desk in front of mine, pulls what looks like a business card out of the hidden pocket inside his jacket and then scribbles something on the back of it. He takes a few steps towards me and holds out the card. Swinging my legs down from the desk, I take it from him, my thumb brushing against his. The contact sends a shiver down my spine that I can’t ignore, but thankfully I manage to stop it reaching my expression.
“That’s my personal number. Don’t share it.”
“Sure,” I think I say, but my mouth is dry and there’s every possibility I imagined it.
I watch him walk away and I’m unable to make sense of how I’m feeling. I didn’t want him to give me a lift home but I must’ve subconsciously assumed he would because I’m surprised he’s gone. Will he pick me up in the morning? Or is this, whatever this is, over now? The thought should make me happy. It’s what I’ve wanted since the moment he walked out of the bathroom last Friday – to forget him. I don’t want him to talk to me again. I don’t want him to even look at me, and I certainly don’t want to ride in his fucking posh car.
So why do I feel so deflated?
I make it home a couple of hours later. Tess is fast asleep in my bed and, after showering and slipping into some fresh underwear, I climb in next to her. I don’t sleep well, and not just because Tess spreads herself out like a starfish. My brain won’t switch off. I think about him…at work, in his car, but mostly I remember how good it felt when he fucked me in that damn bathroom.
Eventually, I drift into a restless sleep, but I’m awake again before the alarm sounds.
Tess grumbles at the noise and kicks me in the shin. “Make it stop,” she mumbles, clamping a pillow over her head. “It’s my day off.”
“Well it’s not mine,” I say, smiling at her dramatics. She’s never been a morning person.