“Didn’t sound like it.”
“Don’t take my word for it then. Let me prove it to you.”
“Prove what? There’s nothing to—”
He leaned in, crossing his arms over his chest, his clothes straining and stretching as he towered over me. The muscles spread all over him gave sculpted to perfection—if I had a dime every time I read that phrase, I would be so rich I wouldn’t fear losing Brighton to Fletcher anymore—a new definition. And that three-horse tattoo covering his shoulder and bicep was sexy and adorable at the same time. They seemed to be rubbing their heads lovingly against each other every time he flexed his arm. I was licking my lips, forgetting to finish my sentence, when he bent his head down to my ears. “A man loves a good challenge,Gabriella.”
The amount of heat that rose to my face every time he rolled my name in that accent was ridiculous. I was in my fucking forties—sobs—and read smut for a living for God’s sake.
That heat snuck into other places, too, places that had been shut for business for years, when he was whispering, his sweet breath—it literally smelled like candy—hitting my earlobe and the side of my neck.
“You need a date for tonight. Unless you’re planning on going with that jerk you like his ass so much…”
“I donotlike—”
“Then I’m offering my services…the full package.” He drew back a little, just enough to make me see his full face, where my gaze was level with his very bitable mouth. Then his finger lifted my chin so I’d meet his eyes. “First night on the house.” He winked. WINKED.
I blinked like an idiot, standing there like a brunette Barbie, the actual lyrics of Barbie Girl playing in my head.You can brush my hair, undress me everywheeeeere…“No. No! Nope. Uh-uh.”
He looked at me like I was a crazy person. Of course, a middle-aged widow rejecting a free night—did he actually offer me a night with him for free or did I imagine it?—with this, all this… My tongue licked my lips again as I took in his frame one more time. I closed my eyes before they wandered to his sweatpants.
His finger dropped from my chin, and it felt like a magic spell had lifted off me, and I could finally move…and think.
“Why not?” It was a genuine question laced with incomprehensible frustration. Like he couldn’t fathom the possibility of a woman like me turning down a guy like him. He was obviously a cocky pretty boy who wasn’t used to any form of rejection, and it hurt him.
“Please don’t take this personally, Mr. Zappa. I don’tneeda date. What Ineedis a new personal assistant that has enough intelligence to remember my coffee order and not bring me thongs to wear on one of the most important events of my life, but instead I have Sadie, who can’t even understand she was fired and is still sitting on my couch watching this conversation like it was some reality show.
“What Ineedis enough clients to keep Brighton in business so an asshole like Fletcher doesn’t take it away from me. What I need is to stop talking to a boy old enough to be my son if I’d gotten pregnant at eighteen and go finish my work to get ready for tonight’s ceremony, which I’m going to by myself as I prefer.”
What I needed was for hair to stop growing on my chin and for my ass to stop growing at all, and above all, to stop sweating as if I’d just hit menopause, when thatdancerwas standing this close to me, smelling like a candy bar.
“And even if I did need a date, I wouldn’t take a pity one,” I added. Didn’t know why, but I did.
“Pity?” He shook his head incredulously. “What did I say to make you think something like that?”
“If it isn’t pity, then what is it? Why wouldyouoffermea free night? What’s in it for you?”
“Truth?”
“Please.”
“Even when you’re saying no to a gift thousands of women in this city would never turn down, even when you’ve done nothing but rejecting me since you saw me, I think you’re the most interesting woman I’ve met in years. I meant it when I said pleasing you would be a challenge. A good one. One I need.”
I swallowed. The sincerity in his words took me by surprise, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like surprises. I didn’t like not being in control. The last time I wasn’t…
“Well, good luck finding that somewhere else. I’ll never be your client, Mr. Zappa.”
Before he had a chance to speak again, I spotted my secretary coming in. “Zoey! Thank God you’re back. Please show Mr. Zappa out.”
With a smirk, he lifted his cap and ran his hand in his dark brown hair, smoothing it off his forehead, his biceps flexing. Zoey’s eyes sparkled, and a huge grin stretched her mouth as she watched him. Exactly how much flexing was required to take off a cap and put it back on?
He smiled at her. “Hi, Zoey. I’m Fab.”
“Hey, Fab,” she giggled. Oh for fuck’s sake. “You are—”
“Leaving.” I glared at her. “Please, we have a lot of work to do.”
He touched the pointed edges of her short hair, smiling wider. “IsGabriellaalways like this, Zoey?”
