“It’s Joz. You hungry?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Are. You. Hungry?”
On cue, my stomach grumbled, reminding me I still hadn’t eaten since the yogurt on the plane that morning, and it was now six-thirty in the evening.
“I’m jetlagged and irritated at being woken from my nap.”
“Grumpy when woken. Got it.”
“What do you want, Joz?”
“I thought you might like to have dinner with me.”
“What on earth gave you that impression?”
“We can talk through the finer contractual details.”
“What finer details? You’ve left no room for negotiation, and I’m not in the mood to be played.”
“I’m not playing.”
“I think playing is your default mode.”
That throaty laugh came at me, and God fucking help me and my neglected libido, but my stomach did that swoopy thing again. I should’ve brought a vibrator with me to take the edge off, because Joz Raynor was not the man to scratch my itch. He was a business deal. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Come on, Aspen. You’ve got to eat.”
“That’s what room service is for.”
“Eating alone is sad.”
“Is it, though? For you, maybe, but I’m sure your little black book is bursting with names who’ll drop whatever it is they’re doing for a chance to spend some time with you. I’m more than happy to eat alone.”
The line fell silent for a few seconds.
I pulled the phone away from my ear. Still connected. “Hello?”
“Have dinner with me. Please, Aspen.” The tone of his voice gave me pause. He sounded… not exactly desperate, but lonely.
Rubbing my lips together, I shook my head, already regretting the decision I was about to make. “Okay, but if I catch you ogling my breasts, I will have your dinner poisoned. I’m at the Kingcaid Hotel in Kensington. Meet me at the onsite restaurant in thirty minutes.”
I caught the beginnings of another laugh before I hung up. The man was a dreadful flirt and entirely too used to getting his own way. I called down to the restaurant, and despite being fully booked, they somehow squeezed me in. Perks of being a Kingcaid, I guessed.
Flinging the covers to one side, I climbed out of bed. A quick shower and a change of clothes later, and I arrived at therestaurant five minutes late. The maître d’ informed me that Joz was already here—information that, I admit, I was surprised to hear. I fully expected him to turn up late, if only to, once again, show me that he thought he was in charge.
He stood as I approached, his mid-length, brown hair scraped back into a man bun, his beard neatly trimmed. He wore a smart pair of black jeans and a button down, also in black. His roguish smile and sparkling blue eyes made my stomach do that flippity-flop thing again. It didn’t mean anything. I was tired, that’s all. Add to that my year-long celibacy, and boom, no wonder my libido was emerging from its cocoon in the presence of an attractive, if fucking annoying guy. Although I was too busy for a relationship, and casual sex had never interested me.
Why the hell was I even thinking about sex? Especially sex with Joz Raynor.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Did I have a choice?” I softened my comeback with a small smile.
His smile was far broader and all-together too sexy. I swore the woman sitting on the adjacent table gave a dreamy sigh and received a sharp look from her male companion in response.
“Ouch.”
