Rather than sit here and listen to Gibbs talk about how badly he needs us to make fools out of ourselves in public to get in the hottest gossip magazines, I’m back to staring at Layla.
She was gorgeous when she was sick in bed, but she looks even better now that the glow of health is back. After I got home that night, it took forty-five minutes in the room to take the edge off my lustful imaginings. Usually a quick trip to Zeus’s Playground would do the job, but the thought of being with another girl feels dishonest. Not dishonest toward Layla, but like I’m cheating myself. Like using a breadcrumb to satisfy starvation. Which is ridiculous, but no less a fact.
I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do about my attraction to this woman. Maybe I can’t get her out of my head because she’s not throwing herself at me. Could it be that simple, a silly case of cat and mouse? Snake and mouse. Yeah, that sounds more like it. And everyone knows who wins in that game.
“…but Layla will be there in my absence—”
“What?” Just the sound of her name from another man is enough to make me mental. I clear my throat and try to shrug off the fact that I wasn’t listening to a damn word Gibbs has said for the past who-knows-how-long.
“He’s talking about Flesh,” Rex answers from across the table. He’s slouched down in his chair with his elbows propped on the armrests, looking at me with an annoying-ass smile.
I glare at him and then turn my attention to Gibbs. “What about Layla and Flesh?”
“I’ll be out of town this weekend, and I need this publicity party to run smoothly. I’ve asked Layla to be there and make sure that happens.” He says it in such an everyday way, like he didn’t just verbally taser my adrenal glands.
“You can’t send Layla to Flesh.” My resolve is absolute. In the hundred different ways I play it out in my head, she doesn’t belong there.
“Blake, I’m happy to go. It’s not a big deal.” Her light voice carries a hint of uncertainty.
I lean toward her, resting my forearms on the table. “Do you even know what goes on at a place like Flesh?”
She blinks rapidly as if I caught her off guard, but doesn’t respond.
“It’s an adult pool. Topless. As in, the women don’t wear them.”
She recoils, but quickly recovers and leans in toward me. “You think I can’t handle a few naked boobs? Hate to state the obvious, Blake, but that’s something I see on a daily basis.”
The guys make no attempt to muffle their laughter. Bastards.
Jonah shrugs, fighting a smile. “She’s got a point, Blake.”
I glare him. “So bring Raven.”
His smile dies and his jaw gets tight. “Fuck no.”
Yeah, now who’s laughing?
Sitting back in my chair, fairly confident that I just made my point, I study Layla. She’s glaring at me, her mouth in a tight line as if she’s fighting to hold back what’s behind her teeth.
“Dude, you can’t compare sending a man’s wife to Flesh with sending a female UFL employee.” Caleb shakes his head. “Not the same.”
Holy shit, I compared Layla to Raven. What the fuck does that mean?
“Appreciate your concern for my assistant, but she’s got a job to do and that includes going to Flesh. Now, I have a teleconference in”—he checks his watch—“shit, three minutes.” He gathers his things and mumbles something to Layla. “Grab a schedule on your way out.” He scurries out of the room.
She drops a stack of papers in the middle of the table, and all the guys grab one except me. My eyes stay on her.
The thought of her at that pool surrounded by bare-breasted women, horny guys looking for action, mix that up with liberal amounts of alcohol. That’s an orgy waiting to happen. Layla’s fucking smokin’ hot and radiates an innocence that gives assholes ideas. Yeah, this shit ain’t happening.
“You’re not going.” The words come flying from my mouth and still the movement in the room.
“Excuse me?” She stands, places her palms on the tabletop, and leans forward. I’d make a wise crack about the perfect cleavage shot she’s giving me, but I’m too pissed.
I copy her confrontational stance, daring her to fucking try me. “You heard me.”
Her eyes flash with fury. “You don’t tell me what to do, Blake. This is my job.”
“Don’t give a shit. You’re not going.”
She slams one palm to the table. “Why are you fighting me on this?”
I don’t know. I can’t tell her the truth—that she and Axelle bring out a basic male instinct to protect. Even in my head, that sounds insane. This is why I stay away from women with kids. To keep my guardian complex locked up and avoid the feeling of betrayal when all my efforts aren’t returned. Just like with my mom the night she ratted me out. Dammit. I’m not doing this shit.
“Fine.” I drop my head back. “I give up. You’ll see for yourself.” Straightening from the table, my lips pull into a snarl. “But don’t come crying to me when you get mauled by assholes looking for an easy lay.”