“Is that so?” he asked with that familiar smirk tugging at his lip.
“Haven’t you heard the expression ‘you catch more bees with honey’?”
He chuckled before straightening the lapel of his suit. Looking back to his phone, he said, “Honey didn’t make me this rich, sweetheart.”
Chapter 10
Jeremiah
Islammed my palm against the elevator button until the down arrow glowed against the gold metal panel in the wall. Sadie jumped slightly, but didn’t say anything as we waited for the elevator doors to open. We had ridden in so many this morning that last night’s steamy kiss in the apartment elevator felt like months ago. Though the enclosed spaces felt overwhelmingly intimate with her inside.
The doors slid open and I stepped inside, Sadie close on my heels. She pressed the button for the lobby, probably for fear I might break the entire panel with my agitation. The meeting we just left hadn’t gone as I planned. The client I thought I had in the bag had decided to change terms last minute, and without my attorney present, we had to forego signing him for now. I knew he was playing games, trying to see just how far he could push me.
I had kept my cool in his office, but let it out in the safety of the hallway. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me. I normally didn’t like people to see my frustration when things didn’t go my way, but for some reason I didn’t care with Sadie.
I ran my hand frustratedly through my hair, catching her watching me from the side of her eye. I wondered if she was thinking about her own fingers entwined in my hair not even twenty-four hours ago. I met her stare, a quiet challenge in seeing if it could possibly happen again. I could use the release. She quickly broke her gaze as the elevator began its descent.Guess not.
She looked polished today. Her skirt and matching blazer were pressed and they complemented her fair skin, while her auburn hair fell in long waves down her back, a stark contrast to her snowy complexion. I had never seen her hair down before, aside from the night we had in my apartment, but by then it was damp with sweat and tangled from breaking free from the hair tie. It was usually pulled into a bun or tied at the nape of her neck. I had the urge to run my fingers through it, but refrained from the wanting twitch in my hand.
The elevator doors opened then, and I swiftly stepped outside to get out from the small space of temptation. Just then, I felt my stomach rumble, signaling it was time to eat. I had skipped breakfast this morning, opting for another shower, since my body was still wound up from our rendezvous. I was now running only coffee and fumes. I checked my watch. It was nearly 1 p.m.
“We’ll grab lunch now,” I said, ignoring the stares in the lobby as we walked toward the large glass doors that led out to the upper west side of Manhattan. The sidewalk was busy with the after-lunch commute. The traffic even busier. I decided it would be faster to walk to a restaurant, and I knew just the place.
I crossed the street, not bothering with the crosswalk just a few yards away. The traffic was at a standstill, anyway. I could sense Sadie’s hesitation behind me, but she followed anyway, like a stray dog. I found it amusing how she had to do little hop-skips to keep up with me, all while scrolling on the iPad that had been practically glued to her nose all day. I knew she was trying hard to stay on top of everything, even at the mercy of oncoming traffic, however slow it was.
I opened the heavy wooden door to the Mediterranean restaurant and was relieved to see most of the lunch crowd had already cleared out. I held the door for Sadie, probably the first time I had today, and she warily slipped past me, leaving a trail of her perfume for me to inhale. Warm vanilla. It suited her perfectly.
As the door closed behind us in a dull thud, blocking out the afternoon sun, the hostess sat us at one of the warm wood high-tops toward the back of the dimly lit restaurant. One single candle flickered in the center of the table, casting shadows as I sat opposite of Sadie. The hostess handed us our menus, and a waitress was by shortly to take our drink order.
“Martini. Dry,” I said, looking expectantly at Sadie to see if she would indulge in a mid-day drink with me.
“Water, please,” she said with a curt nod before unlocking her iPad and using the pad of her finger to scroll. I smiled with amusement at just how hard she was trying to stay busy and avoid looking at me. I took the opportunity to look at her as I sipped my martini, observing the slow blink of her long lashes and the small movements of her mouth as she read silently. She really was easy on the eyes.
“Is my to-do listthatinteresting?” I asked before taking another long sip of my drink.
She looked up at me, her green eyes dark in the dim lighting. No sun shone in this back part of the restaurant. It might as well have been eight at night. It felt intimate, but this was not a date. This was lunch, between two people who worked together. At least, that was what I reminded myself.
She didn’t say anything before her eyes went back to the glow of the screen. I could tell something was on her mind though. Her eyes were no longer scanning the screen. She just looked blankly at it, while her mind whirred with other thoughts. I could tell she wanted to say something in the way she chewed the inside of her cheek.
“What is it?” I asked, not able to resist the urge of knowing what was on her mind.
She looked thoughtful as her fingertips ran up the length of her water glass, her touch leaving streaks in the cool water coating the glass. For a second, I was distracted by the movement, remembering how the same motions once moved up and downmy cock. As if noticing where my attention had gone, she abruptly stopped.
Her eyes found mine, wary, but I cocked my head curiously and offered what I could for a smile, trying to coax her thoughts out of her. A martini would do the trick, but she hadn’t joined me in ordering one. She hesitated for a moment before letting out a slow sigh.
“I’m just embarrassed…” she said, looking down at the table.
I couldn’t think of why. Was it because I had seen her naked? Was it because she had straddled me in the elevator last night? I wanted to assure her she had nothing to be embarrassed about.
“You shouldn’t be,” I said.
“I guess I didn’t realize how low people’s opinions were of me. Hearing the managers say those things about me this morning. I’ve worked with these people for years. I thought they had more respect for me.”
Ah. That was what it was. It had nothing to do with us knowing some of the most intimate parts of each other. I should have known by the look on her face this morning that what she overheard would affect her like this. I had sworn there were tears in her eyes when those men exited my office. I felt a tinge of guilt, which was unusual for me. By the time I reached her, she must have blinked the tears away, swallowing her pride. But I could see through it. She cared too much about what peoplethought. She let it eat away at her. It was why she let people walk all over her.
“I don’t know what I did wrong,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.
“Perhaps worrying about what other people think is what you’re doing wrong,” I said.
