I’d have jumped on him without a second thought. I’d have showed him how much I loved him. I’d have left everything behind, lost everything without a shred of care, turned the world upside down, to be with him.
Except that was just a fantasy, and Mike Gennaro would never choose to be with someone like me.
The doors slid open, and I jumped inside. In the elevator mirror, my face was red.
Fuck. The look on my face.
Sweat beaded on my forehead.Did he notice?
Oh my God, what if he noticed?
Scene18
Maggie
He didn’t.
At least that was what I figured when the first thing Mike said to me after that awkward encounter was Kiddo.
“I’m not a fucking Kiddo,” I said.
He smiled as he opened the door of the silver Porsche for me. I got in, face relaxed, thanking God for the obnoxious word for the first time. He slid behind the wheel and started the car.
“Where’re we going?” I asked.
“Anywhere you like Ms. Dawson.”
“You’re telling me you haven’t already made plans?”
“I have.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. “But they can change. We aim to please, Ms. Dawson.”
“Okay. I officially prefer Kiddo to this creepy Ms. Dawson thing.”
“How about just Maggie?”
“Much better,” I lied. The way he said my name penetrated my core, forcing my sex to clench. He didn’t say the name; he fucked it with that rugged voice.
I turned away from him for a second’s relief and saw a rectangular white box, tied in a red bow, occupying the backseat. “What’s that?”
“Shoes. From Milano. I looked at them and thought you’d like them.”
“Aw. Thanks.” I touched his thigh and pretended to forget my hand was there. “You really didn’t have to. The bracelet was more than enough.”
“Come on. Just unwrap the box and tell me if they’re any good. You’re an eight, right?”
“Yes.” Unbuckling the seatbelt, I spun and bent one knee under me as I reached for the box. The car turned and the box swayed. I had to bend lower to get it. As Mike switched gears, his elbow rubbed against my hunched ass. A little gasp escaped my lips as I felt a throbbing between my thighs. I turned my head, expecting he would apologize or laugh or say something, but he continued driving as if nothing happened.
When I returned to my seat, I tore the box open, revealing a pair of suede, black ankle boots. “Oh my God. They’re perfect,” I whispered, feeling the softness of them in my hands. “Exactly my taste.”
He took my hand and printed a kiss on the back of it. “I know.”
My heart skipped a beat. The softness of his lips and the warmth of his breath brushing against my skin were, suddenly, too much.What the fuck is wrong with me today?
He made another turn and pointed at a jazz club. “This is where we’re going. Is that okay?”
“You kiddin’ me?” I smiled at the blue, neon sign with the name Vibrato on it. “I love jazz clubs. I’m glad you didn’t make a reservation at some fancy French restaurant or something.”
“Is that what Kyle does when he takes you out to dinner?”
