“Hey, still wanna talk?”
Morgan was sat on the edge of the booth; they’d had two jugs of cocktails delivered to their table, and he was laughing at what one of the men had said.
“Uh… Yeah.” He smiled nervously at me, rubbed at his thighs, and got up.
“I’m going to borrow him for a bit. There is a dancefloor up here, but you can go down if you want. These screens”—I pointed to the large screens set up on the edge of the walkway in front of the booths—“are for the privacy of the booths. Photos taken from downstairs cannot see up here. It will just reflect the dance floor back to them.”
“Follow me.” I smiled at Morgan, my breath catching when he smiled back.
I led him past the tables, ignoring the cat calls from Laura and Betty, and down the hallway that led to the offices. When I got to my office door, I sucked in a deep breath, the smell of his aftershave, a dark, woody scent engulfing me. Punching in the code on the security panel, I pushed the door and indicated for him to go through.
His upper arm brushed against my breasts as he walked by and my heart pounded so hard, I thought it was going to burst through my chest. I got us both a drink from the cabinet—my favourite, Cherry Brandy and Coke—and walked to sit next to him on the plush navy sofa and handed him his drink.
“Thanks.” He held up his glass and looked around my office.
“So, I thought it only fair that I explain fully why I think we should stay just friends.” I took a huge drink to try to calm my nerves; it didn’t help. I held the glass tighter so he wouldn’t see my shaking hands.
“Okay, tell me.” He leaned back on the sofa, his legs open wide, with his knee resting against mine.
I shuffled slightly so that we were no longer touching and began, “It’s not fair to you. I’m not looking to get married again or have kids.”
“Normally not what one talks about before going on a first date.” He grinned and leant forward.
“I know, but what’s the point of starting something that could end up not only hurting us, but your family, too. You all mean too much to me to lose you. You’re so sweet and kind, but I don’t think we would be compatible.” I finished my drink in another gulp.
“You might change your mind one day.”
I shook my head. “I won’t. After this divorce I’m done with marriage and I…I can’t have kids. I can get pregnant; I just can’t carry them full term. I lose them every time and it gets more painful with each loss.” My voice broke and I blinked away the tears.
“I’m so sorry, Andie, I didn’t know.” He leaned forward and rubbed my back.
“That’s okay. So, you see, you want kids, I can’t have them. It wouldn’t work.” I looked to the floor. Tiny pin pricks of pain stabbed at my heart at saying the words out loud.
“It’s not all about kids, Andie. I really like you. There’s more to this.” He took a sip of his drink, scrunched up his face, and put the glass onto my side table.
“What do you mean?” I wanted another drink but didn’t want to get up when we were talking.
“There’s something you’re not telling me. Go on, say it.”
“Say what?” I really had no idea what he was on about.
“That I’m too nice for you. The whole, ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ I hear it all the time, women think they want a bad boy, but they really want a nice guy to cuddle up with at night. That’s me.” He pointed to himself at the end of his sentence.
His tone harsh and one of impatience, but I couldn’t argue with him. After all, it was what the girls and I had agreed earlier in the evening.
I sighed. “I’m sick of all men, bad or nice. I don’t need it. I’m done.”
His hand travelled slowly from my knee up my thigh. “But you do like a bad guy?”
I gulped, and my pussy throbbed. I was moments away from throwing myself into his lap and having him right there. It wouldn’t be the first time the sofa had seen some action. Clearing my throat and shaking my head to try to clear away the inappropriate thoughts, I stilled his hand on my thigh.
Time to be honest. “I’ll admit, I do like someone that takes control of me. I always need to be the strong one during work so as not to get taken advantage of, but it’s nice to get taken charge of during the night.” My eyes met his; they were a shade or two darker than normal. “I’m sorry I just don’t think it would work.” I tried to sound definite and walked to the door, opening it.
Morgan stalked to me. “Well, I do,” he argued.
I sighed. “I’m sorry, I just want to stay friends.” I turned, walking through the door and back into the corridor towards the booths.
“Then why did you kiss me back? Twice?”
