“And wear a condom. I need to hear you say it.”
“Elijah,” Dakota scolded. “Leave him alone. He’s a decent guy, even if he doesn’t like parties, and you’re embarrassing him.”
What she said was mostly accurate. I tried to be a decent guy. But I wasn’t embarrassed. I was just totally unsure how to respond. If I said yes, I would look like a douche. If I said no, I would look like a douche. Yep. I was rusty as fuck when it came to situations like this. I did want to have sex with her. Without question.
“It takes a lot more than that for me to be embarrassed,” I said. “But I also know when to keep my fucking mouth shut. I was married.”
Elijah laughed. “I like this one, D. You might be breaking your pattern.” He reached out, took her champagne glass, and drained it. He handed it back to her and squared his shoulders. “Only six steps to the door. I can do this.”
With a dramatic arm lift, he walked up the stairs.
“Sorry about that,” Dakota said. “He’s a dancer. We like to perform.”
“No problem. Do you want another glass of champagne? A seat?” I used my big frame to shift toward the bar, claiming the space next to an open stool.
“Thanks.” She slid onto the stool and crossed her legs, revealing skin all the way to her hip. “I’d love another glass since Elijah drank half of my first one.”
I pictured my tongue trailing the path where that fabric split, all the way up to her inner thighs, where I would...
“Are you here with friends?” she asked.
I dragged my thoughts back to the present with monumental effort. “What?”
“Am I keeping you from someone?”
Nope. I was with my PA, who was neurotic on the best of days, and my assistant offensive coordinator, who I had known since college and I saw just about every damn day.
Hell, no, she wasn’t keeping me from those assholes. Hands down, I’d rather spend time with her. “Just a couple of colleagues. We’re here for the charity event. Sort of a ‘pop in, pop out’ thing. Three of us were free on Valentine’s Day so we got handed the task.” I raised my hand to order her another glass.
“I imagine you hate Valentine’s Day,” she said, giving me a slight smile. “It doesn’t seem like your thing, since you try so hard to be a grumpy guy.”
I wasn’t sure what had given her that impression other than me admitting to not enjoying overblown social events, but it didn’t seem to be turning her off, so whatever. And she wasn’t wrong. “I do hate Valentine’s Day,” I said. “Romance should be spontaneous, not required. It’s like a threat.”
“I’m mostly ambivalent about it.” She looked around. “What do you think makes this an anti-Valentine’s Day party like they billed it? I don’t see arrowless Cupids or petitions to cancel the holiday.”
“There is a table in the back where you can put a hex on your ex,” I said. Not my thing, but I wasn’t judging. Breakups could be messy.
“I don’t think anyone should be calling on voodoo to exact revenge. Whether it works or not, I have no clue, but I’m not messing around with stuff like that.” She waved her hand to emphasize her point. “Nope. Stay away from the voodoo.”
“I’m not messing with voodoo either. That seems like a bad idea for a lot of reasons. By the way, what did Elijah mean about you breaking a pattern?” I asked, curious.
“He isn’t the only one who historically has had bad taste in men.” She pointed to herself. “This girl can’t be trusted.”
I eyed her. What did that really mean? “You only date assholes?”
Not that it mattered. I couldn’t date her. I could have sex with her, but I couldn’t date her. My life was far too complicated with my job, traveling, my girls.
“Apparently.” She accepted the glass of champagne from the bartender with a thank you.
“Elijah clearly has faith in you.” I sipped my fresh martini.
“Elijah has faith in you, not me,” she said wryly.
That made me laugh. “I’m a total stranger to him.”
“Exactly. Yet he still trusts you to make better decisions than me.”