The tenseness of the last few minutes evaporated when he laughed. He put his arm around me and said, “No, Cierra. I’m not married. Why did you ask me that?”
I shrugged, not as amused as he was, and replied, “You just sort of freaked out when you saw the time.” Now that I said it out loud, it sounded silly. Just because a guy said, “It’s late,” didn’t mean he was married.
He squeezed my shoulder. “I have an early appointment in the morning, that’s all. I wish I could stay, but I don’t function very well without getting enough sleep.” He smiled, which made me feel even sillier.
“Me neither, but I’m not as disciplined as you are.” I smiled back.
“I’ll give you a call.” He turned around and headed out of the pub.
I immediately swung around and fixed my gaze on the pool tables, but my boss wasn’t there. I pressed my lips together and heaviness spread through my body. The idea that Trace Prescott had left the pub didn’t sit well with me, and I was mad at myself for caring. I’d just had a wonderful conversation with Cory, and yet one glimpse of my boss turned everything upside down. Angry, I grabbed my purse and walked toward the restrooms.
The ladies’ room wasn’t very far, but it was a challenge to maneuver through all the people. As I elbowed, twisted, and pushed my way along, I tripped and fell forward. With my head down, my arms flailing to grab on to something to stop my fall, I crashed into something hard.
“Shit!” I cried, sure my butt was going to hit the floor when a pair of arms surrounded me, curtailing my fall. My head lay against a hard chest, and I looked up to see who’d saved me from a lot of bruises and aches. And that’s when my gaze met his. Of all the people in the pub, I had to have bumped into him.
“You slamming into me seems to have become a habit,” Mr. Prescott said.
“I tripped.” That was the only thing I could come up with. I was mortified that I’d fallen into him once again. I also couldn’t trust my body being that close to him. It was already misbehaving: dampness in my panties, shallow breathing, stomach fluttering like a swarm of butterflies had gotten loose, and a dull throb in my private parts. I tried to untangle myself from him, but he held me tight and walked me toward the back of the bar.
“It’s nice bumping into you. Are you having a good time?” His voice was smooth like melted dark chocolate, making a shiver run up my spine.
I nodded. “Sofie’s with me. We came for dinner and drinks.” Why I had to let him know that I wasn’t with a guy was beyond me. Whenever I was around Mr. Prescott, I turned from a smart, professional woman into an insipid, brainless one.
“Do you come here often?” His warm breath fanned over my face as his familiar scent wisped around me.
“Yeah. I live nearby.”
“Do you?”
I nodded and lowered my gaze. That’s when I noticed the ink peeking out from the top of his T-shirt. I wanted to tug the shirt over his head to see the full tattoo displayed over his ripped chest. My mouth was as dry as desert dust, and without thinking, I traced the outline of his tattoo with my fingernail. I could’ve sworn I heard him hiss, but before I could be sure, someone from behind pushed against me, propelling me closer to Mr. Prescott.
“It’s crowded in here,” I croaked.
“I don’t mind it.” He ran his thumb under my bottom lip, and the heat in his eyes sent a bolt of desire between my legs.
All of a sudden, the voices, the music, the clink of glasses all vanished; the only thing I was aware of was the scent and feel of him. He lowered his head and came closer. Our faces were inches away. My lips parted and I swore I heard him growl before I closed my eyes, my senses on high alert as I waited for his lips to press onto mine.
But it never happened.
My eyes flew open and Mr. Prescott stepped back, his arms dropping to his side. The warmth of him was gone, an icy chill replacing it. “Watch yourself. You don’t want to stumble again,” he said. And then he turned around and disappeared in the crowd.
What. The. Fuck?My head reeled, my body shook, and my blood boiled. I was beyond mad. A huge part of me was humiliated that I’d opened myself up to him like that. I knew he was an asshole even before Kelsey confirmed it, yet I stood there waiting for him to kiss me. I fuckingwantedit.
Enough. I’m done.
A few minutes later, as I was leaving the ladies’ room, the door flew open and I jumped out of the way. A very drunk blonde teetered in on four-inch heels. She swayed toward me and I put out my hands to steady her when she looked at me.
“I know you,” she slurred.
It was Chandra Pierce, Mr. Prescott’s secretary. “Hi. It’s me, Cierra.”
“That’s right. Did you see Mr. Prescott? He had his arms wrapped all around a woman. I wonder if the paparazzi are here tonight. I’d love to have my picture in the paper.”
“Are you going to be okay? I have to get back to my friend.” I wasn’t in the mood to talk about my boss.
“You know what? The woman he was with was wearing the same thing you are. Isn’t that funny?” She swayed again and then her face went white. Her hand to her mouth, she dashed to one of the stalls.
I walked out and realized that Mr. Prescott had seen Chandra and freaked out before he kissed me. Knowing that made the sullenness shrouding me dissipate as I went back over to Sofie and Colin. They were kissing up a storm, and I figured I’d just head home.
“You leaving?” Sofie asked as I slipped on my cardigan.
“Yeah. Are you going to be okay? I can stay if you want.”
“I’m good.” She grinned.
“Okay. Call me tomorrow.”
As I was leaving, I sensed someone staring at me. I looked over my shoulder and met the smoldering eyes of Mr. Prescott. Standing there, we locked gazes and a strong connection pulsed between us. He lifted his chin at me and gave me a crooked smile. Did I see regret etched on his face? I thought so, but maybe I was reading too much into it.
I broke away and walked out into the drizzling rain.
