I wait until we claim our seats, sitting across from each other, to reply. “Shouldn’t we be at least a little discreet?”
“No,” he says, and setting his phone on the table next to him, the way he’s monitoring it gives me the distinct impression that even on Sunday, he’s working some angle to take over Brandon Enterprises. “We do not need to be discreet.”
I consider him a moment and nod, pulling my bagel out of the bag while he does the same. I’ve just taken a bite of mine when he surprises me. “I want you to stay tonight.”
I set down the bagel and grab a napkin, only to have him reach across the tiny table and wipe cream cheese from my mouth, and lick it off his finger. “I owed you,” he says softly, and he is close, his mouth a lean away from a kiss, his voice sandpaper and silk on every nerve ending.
“We are most definitely not being discreet,” I manage.
“Stay the night again.”
Surprised, I lean back to look at him. “I have to get ready for work in the morning.”
“So do I.”
“I’m not riding to work with you, Shane. That just makes me look like a bimbo.”
He arches one dark brow. “A bimbo?”
“If the shoe fits.”
“That shoe hardly fits you, sweetheart.”
“I am sleeping with one of my bosses.”
“Yes. You are, and maybe I should just start ordering you to do things.”
“You already do.”
“And yet somehow I struggle to get you to do what I say.”
“Not at work.”
“Then consider yourself at work for a moment, because I’m taking you home early in the morning and you’re staying the night. End of subject.”
“I’ll stay,” I say, giving him a tiny smile. “But not because you’re my boss. Because I want to stay.”
His sexy lips quirk and he reaches for his coffee but doesn’t take a drink. He sets it back down, the full force of his attention on me. “I don’t wake up with women in my bed.”
While he has inferred as much, I am surprised and pleased by this announcement. “I’m no different.”
“You went on the pill for someone.”
“Paranoia,” I say honestly, clinging to every truth I can tell him. “I was afraid of getting pregnant, since becoming a single mom and trying to go to school didn’t seem exactly smart.”
“But you were in a relationship.”
“I thought I was, but I was confused.”
His brow furrows. “Now I don’t understand the words coming out of your mouth.”
I can’t muster a smile. “That part of my life is not my shining glory.” As with the present day, I add silently before explaining. “He was my college professor and didn’t tell me he was married.”
“How badly did he hurt you?”
“I found out the day after my mother was killed in a car accident. It was a blow.”
“I’m beginning to see you more clearly,” he says. And before I can ask what he means, he’s already moving on, “What did you do about the professor?”
“Nothing.”
“You should have reported him.”
“In hindsight, maybe, but I was not in a good place, and I darn sure didn’t want to hear I had daddy issues.”
“Lots of people date older.”
“Yes, but my father was…” I catch myself before I say a law professor and invite questions I can’t answer.
“Your father was what?” he prods.
“Within his circle,” I say, avoiding a question about where he taught. “So I brilliantly rebounded with a tattoo artist who was younger than me.”
“And yet you have no ink.”
“Oh, he tried to convince me to remedy that. But you know, it felt more like a commitment to him, which I wasn’t going to make, than a tattoo.” I sip my coffee. “I told you my history. Your turn.”
“I was engaged to another law student,” he says, delivering a bombshell I don’t expect.
“Engaged. That’s pretty intense.”
“Not really. I was young and the pairing fit an image I had formed in my mind of my life and career at the time, which was total bullshit. We ended badly, and after that, I let my career take over, and kept things simple with women.”
I tell myself not to ask, but I can’t help myself. “Simple how?”
“Women I have agreements with up front.”
“Agreements,” I say, a bit stunned. “That’s cold, Counselor.”
“Not if it’s what they wanted too.”
“That never backfired?”
“I never allowed one the chance.” He gives me a thoughtful look. “Interesting enough though, with you, I was the one who never had a chance.”
“Funny,” I say, my stomach fluttering. “I thought the same about me.”
Flecks of blue glint in his gray eyes, telling me I’ve pleased him, and I am surprised how much this pleases me as well. “Then it’s mutual,” he says, “but actually, there is one agreement I think we should make.”