I don’t know when I became the numbers guy, because hell if Michael has ever let me play this game before, but I am two seconds away from telling him - fuck his numbers, there is no way. In the end, “I told you so” will be my only excuse at why it just wasn’t possible to make this work. But that doesn’t help Gwen, and Lord knows I need to make this happen for her if I stand any chance of her hearing me out before our time here is through.
“I will see what I can do,” I grumble as I hear plastic wrestle behind me.
Turning, my eyes lock on Gwens, and her face blushes. I smile. She’s a welcome sight on a shitty day.
“I got to go,” I tell Michael. “I will call you Monday after I’ve looked everything back over.”
Even though he’s still talking, I quickly end the call. Gwen slowly starts to make her way toward me.
“This place looks like it’s coming along,” she says as she glances around the room. Her perfume takes over my senses, making it hard to respond. Her tight skirt and clingy top make make me think of all the violent ways I want to rip them from her body as my eyes hungrily roam the curve of her breasts.
“Yeah, it’s coming,” I groan. She blushes as we catch onto the sexual innuendo I totally didn’t plan on making. I shake my head at how stupid I sounded and try a different approach. “What brings you here? I would have thought you’d be done working by this time on a Friday night and out on the town somewhere?”
She shrugs. “Everyone left the office. Aaliyah is out of town for the weekend, and I haven’t made many other friends with the hours I have been keeping at work.”
“What about Eric?”
She rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips.
“What about him?” I swallow hard and don’t respond. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Roberts?” She teases. “He’s a work acquaintance. I don’t mix work with pleasure.”
I bite my tongue and don’t dare ask the obvious question that screams, “Then where does that leave us?”
In fact, it makes me question just exactly what she’s doing here. Usually, I’m the last person she wants to be anywhere around, especially on a Friday night when we don’t have to be thinking about work. Still trying to figure out what might have gotten into her, I’m cut short from my inward investigation when she says, “Forget it, I just kinda thought maybe we could hang out. But I guess just pretend I never stopped by,” She turns to leave and then stops. Stunned, I can’t bring myself to respond. Slowly, she turns back to me. “Unless you don’t have plans?”
I smile at her and take a step back. We’ve been down this road once before. I let her in, and she bailed on me. Twice.
Maybe she just needs to get laid.
After she stormed out on me ten years ago, I was never one to care about getting used. Hell, mostly because I was the one doing the using. But this is different. There are strings attached here: feelings and shit. I can’t just let her back in when I know we both want so much more than we might be willing to give.
It’s a thought I have wrestled with this last week since we walked along the Mississippi.
I know I came here determined to make her listen, but what if she is never ready to hear what I have to say? Not only that, but what if I can’t commit to her? To this? I know I want to, but a part of me is still scared. Can I really force us both into the fire that is our past with the hope that we’ll make it out alive?
Shit, now I am starting to sound like Noah. Fuck, this New Orleans voodoo might just be real.
“We’ve been here before, Gwen, remember?” I try to deflect, but she isn’t having it.
“I thought you made me a bet to prove we weren’t a mistake?” Her innocent eyes plead with me, and suddenly, I see the vulnerability in them that I haven’t seen in years. The fear of rejection, the need for acceptance. A look that matches my own. Hell, we’re one fucked up pair. Maybe that’s why we need each other to survive.
“Forget it,” she says quickly, then turns to leave again, flipping a switch like only she can.
I grab out quickly and pull her back to me, but she keeps a foot or two distance like I am about to hurt her. So I pull her closer. She fights at first before meeting me halfway.
“You’re right,” I cave. “I did bet you that, didn’t I?”
Her eyes meet mine. We’re on the verge of a breakthrough, and there is no way in hell I am going to miss my opportunity if I have even the slightest chance of getting us back where we belong.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask.
Her sexy smile gives way to a perfect laugh. “Well,” she says. “For starters, I thought we could pick up where we left off. We never did get that special dinner you promised to meet me at all those years ago. You hungry?”
“Starved,” I tease, drowning in her eyes and not thinking about anything related to food.
She playfully pushes me backward, but I’m quick to pull her against me. Her breasts rub against my chest, her hips fit perfectly against my pelvis, and my dick stirs when she sharply catches her breath. Flushed, she looks up at me with a hunger that matches my own.
“Kiss me?” I tease, although I know she won’t.
