I maneuver her onto her pillow and slide from the bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead as I cover her with the duvet. “Good night, Sweetheart.”
Tate’s hovering in the hallway as I step out and close the door.
“That’s a nice story you were reading to her,” she comments, wrapping her arms around herself. “What’s it called?”
“I don’t recall,” I say, my spine stiffening.
“It sounded like it was about an adventurer?” she says, looking at me.
“Adventurer or risk-taker, depending on how you look at it.”
She laughs. “Aren’t all adventures a risk?”
I press my lips together, my chest tightening.
She looks embarrassed when I don’t respond. “I should go.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat, regaining control. “Cliff will drive you home.”
“Right, yep, thanks.” She turns, and I follow her into the living area. I call down to Cliff and ask him to collect her from the door.
Tate hovers awkwardly as we wait.
“My new uniform is in,” she says, stumbling over her words. “One that actually fits.” She shrugs a shoulder with a forced laugh. “So I can wear that in future, if you prefer?”
“If I prefer?”
“I mean… you look at all of my clothes like you hate them. I’ve caught you glaring at this,” she tugs on the hem of her T-shirt, “at least six times tonight.”
More like six hundred.
I grind my teeth, placing my hands on my hips.
“Not all of your clothes. Just ones from loser ex boyfriends. And ones that are…” I run my tongue along the edge of my teeth, searching for the right word.
“Distracting?” Tate offers.
“Ones that incite inappropriate reactions,” I say.
She laughs weakly. “I’m not worried about Jones. He’s just a flirt. He acted the same with my boss, Ashley, when he came in for coffee earlier.”
I pause, processing the fact that Jones has already been in for coffee, when I know he’s only ever over on Fifth when he has a meeting with me. And we had nothing scheduled today.My mind flits back to calling Tate, and Ashley telling me she was busy with a customer who wanted her number. Exactly what Arabella told me happens to Tate all the time while she’s working.
“I wasn’t talking about Jones.”
“You weren’t?” Her brow furrows. “Then, who?”
I allow myself a slow perusal of her. The clothes are a disgrace, frankly. She fidgets as my eyes rake over where the dips and curves of her body would be if they weren’t covered in cheap, shapeless fabric. She’s nothing like the women I like to fuck. They’re put-together, styled in designer outfits that suit their slender, waif-like figures.
I know I’m scowling, trying to understand why it is that my dick’s rapidly hardening as I drink her in.
There’s a knock at the door, and I welcome the opportunity to stalk away from her to answer it.
“I’ll call you when I need you again,” I tell Tate as Cliff stands on the other side of the door, waiting to drive her home.
“Okay.” She nods and pauses, waiting to see if I’ll move from the doorway to give her more room to pass.
I don’t. I remain solid until she slips past me, glancing at me. Her red hair is down and loose, glaring at me like a warning sign.
