The Exception (The Exception #1)

“No, I’m not married anymore.” My voice gave a little more away than I intended, earning me a suspicious look from Cane. I noted the measurements and started to the other room, his footsteps close behind me.

“Are you all right? I didn’t mean to pry.”

The genuineness in his voice took me by surprise. “Yeah, I’m good. Things happen, you know?”

“This explains a lot.” He held the tape against the far wall and I scratched down the number.

I looked down at the notepad for a moment longer than necessary, trying to get ahold of my rioting thoughts. I didn’t want to discuss this with anyone, but especially not a client. Regardless of his flirty nature, amazing looks, or this new side I was beginning to see from him, that is what he was—a client. Nothing more, nothing less.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I huffed, giving in.

He held a hand up in defense. “I didn’t mean anything. Just that you are so, I don’t know, halfway pissed off all the time.”

“Well, maybe that’s what ended my marriage. Maybe I’m hard to deal with.”

“Well, you are hard to deal with.” He leaned against the wall, crossing one ankle in front of the other. “But what I really think happened is that guy did a number on you. Just saying.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really want to talk about it. Just saying.” I made a few notes in my notebook, avoiding his pointed stare.

“I didn’t mean anything by that. You’re just a hard one to figure out.”

I shook my head. “That’s not true.”

“I could form a better opinion about that if you weren’t so damn hard to deal with.”

My face jerked to his to see a teasing look. I shook my head, walking back in the office and putting my things inside my bag. “Thank you for your help today.”

“Thank you for coming by on such short notice. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will.”

He stroked his chin with his thumb. “I think we made a good team, even though you came in here with a bit of an attitude this morning.”

I winced. The sound of him calling me out embarrassed me a little. “I’m sorry about that. I just wasn’t sure what was going on when you were sitting there all smug.”

“Words are hard for you, too. We should have started off with the physical. I knew it.” He snapped his fingers in the air.

I shook my head, making my way to the front door. I needed to get out of there quickly. He was being nice—that wasn’t playing fair.

“Jada.” Cane’s voice was a command and I automatically stopped dead in my tracks. I turned and he was glancing at his watch. “Would you want to grab dinner later? I feel like I owe you something for coming over here first thing and I don’t like owing anyone anything.”

He stood stoically, the light shining through the window casting shadows upon his features. He looked sharper, sexier, and more devastatingly handsome than ever before. And as much as my body wanted to go to dinner with Cane Alexander, and, quite frankly, be his dessert, I knew my heart would ultimately be what was carved up and devoured.

I could not buy into his charm, as much as I wanted to.

“You don’t owe me anything. Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t help it that I feel that way,” he winked. “You are just going to have to go to dinner with me.”

“I’m sorry, Cane. I can’t. Thank you, though.” I started to leave again but stopped when I heard a soft chuckle come from behind me. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, really. It’s just that I usually don’t invite women to dinner and I never get turned down when I do. Am I losing my touch?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t know if you had it to begin with.”

He put his hand over his heart. “That hurt.” He took a step towards me and my breath caught in my throat. “What is it about me that you don’t like?”

“Nothing, per se.”

“You are very reserved around me. I think you don’t want to like me. But here’s the thing—I can read women better than anyone. It really is a gift. I know you are interested. So, what’s holding you back? I am just asking for dinner. I’m not out-and-out asking you to fuck—yet.”

His words were a match, sending my libido up in flames.

I tried desperately to control my response to him, but it was easier said than done. The crudeness should have had offended me, but my body was humming instead.

“Do you talk to all your business associates this way?” I asked, trying to distract him.

“No. They’re usually overweight, middle-aged men.” He made a sour face. “I actually keep business and pleasure separate. You’re just an exception.”

The air between us crackled, but each of us held back.

“Cane, look, I’m sorry.” I took a step back until I could feel the cool glass of the front door at my back. “I really do need to get back to the office.”

“You have to eat. What’s wrong with sharing a meal with me?”

“Dinner leads to dinners, which lead to lunches, and I just don’t want to go there.”