The Consequence of Seduction (Consequence 3)

“I didn’t see you.” He frowned.

“Happens all the time,” I grumbled as he maneuvered around us and made his way into the building.

When I looked back at Reid, his beautiful face was marred with an irritated frown. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“He ran into you.”

“Right.”

“How could he not see you?”

“Because he wasn’t paying attention?” I countered. “Look, I don’t know, it does happen a lot, though. I mean, don’t you ever get sat on in the subway?”

Reid burst out laughing. “Hell, no. I mean I don’t actually ride the subway, but I’m pretty sure if someone sat on me it would be on purpose, know what I mean?”

“Ew.” My left eye twitched.

“Why are you winking at me?”

Twitch, twitch, twitch. “I’m not winking!”

He pointed. “Yes, you are. Stop it! It’s weird! I don’t know if I should wink back or just stand here.”

“It’s a twitch! A nervous tic, you moron!”

“Aw, I make you nervous?”

“Can we just . . .” Breathe, Jordan, breathe. That’s it, nice and slow. Hot dogs and butterflies, what does the man bathe in? He smelled . . .

“And now you’re sniffing my shirt.” He choked on a laugh. “Something you wanna say?”

“Just, um . . .” I jerked back. “Making sure I know your scent so I can track you down.” I gulped. “Like a dog.” My face heated with embarrassment. “Because, uh, that’s what dogs do.”

“They also pee to mark their territory. You gonna do that too?”

“So.” I barely managed to keep in my embarrassed laughter and shoved his muscled chest like we were homies or something. “This is where the infamous Max is, huh?”

Reid ignored my inability to have a conversation that didn’t revolve around my peeing on him and fell into step beside me.

“Yup.” He exhaled as he steered us away from the main elevators toward a back hallway.

He swiped a card across a large metal door, which opened into a private elevator. The walls were bright pink. The music—Britney Spears.

“What is this hell?” I whispered once the doors closed.

“This, my sad, misinformed friend, is Max’s idea of funny.”

The doors in front of me were papered with old pictures of boy bands and a very revealing picture of Reid and some other good-looking guy singing with 98 Degrees.

“You were in a boy band?” I blurted out.

“I’ll take it to my grave,” Reid muttered under his breath. “Only Max and I use this elevator. Last year, he taped pictures of retirement homes inside and found a Bengay-scented air freshener.”

“Um, why?”

The elevator finally dinged at the top floor.

“I may have fallen victim to a horny grandmother.”

“Do I want to know?”

“No. And you’ll never know, unless you volunteer to pay for another round of therapy.”

I burst out laughing, then covered my mouth once he sent me a glare that was anything but amused.

The elevator doors opened up to a large lobby with modern decor. White leather couches were framed around a black coffee table with a few magazines scattered about. A tall black desk was directly facing the elevators as we stepped off and into the serene environment. It felt very Zen. Green plants lined the hall as we made our way around the couches and approached the desk. It was pretty, pristine, and totally unexpected after the elevator ride.

“Molly,” Reid crooned in a low, seductive voice that had my ears perking up like someone had just shouted that Channing Tatum was naked and giving away free doughnuts.

Clearly, this Molly had a similar reaction. It didn’t matter that she looked twice my age, with black hair pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head and bright red lipstick that flashed behind a blinding white smile. On closer inspection, it was almost impossible to tell her age. Her pencil-thin brows were pinched together behind black glasses that I’d bet money weren’t prescription.

“What can I do for you?” Her lips curved into another toothy grin as she lifted one of her pens and started sucking on the end. Oh, please. “Sir?”

“She calls you sir?” I mumbled under my breath.

Molly’s gaze snapped toward me. “Is she homeless?”

Eyes wild, I flinched, ready to jump over her desk and shove the pen into her Botoxed face.

“No.” Reid gripped my wrist tightly and held me in place. “She’s . . . my publicist.”

Molly burst out laughing.

I forced a smile. “It was a rough morning.”

“I’ll say.” She kept laughing in a totally degrading way that also happened to sound like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“Is my father in?” Reid asked, interrupting her cackling.

She held up her finger then scanned the computer. “Yes, he’s in the building for the next two hours. Did you need him?”

Reid’s grip loosened on my wrist. “Would you mind terribly asking him to meet me in Max’s office?”

“Of course not!” Her ability to both scream those words and also make me take a step back was impressive. Ears ringing, I was tempted to pound the side of my head.

Reid winked.

Molly did a little jig in her chair.

And I tried not to gag. Her reaction made it even more imperative that I have absolutely no reaction to him. I got it. I really did. Reid was one of those guys that couldn’t help but ooze sexuality everywhere he went.