“So, maybe you should actually find an apartment, since there will no longer be any need for us to be working such crazy hours together.” What the hell was I saying? If she moved out, what would happen? I’d no longer be able to hear her toss and turn at night, or face her in the morning and share a pot of coffee. I froze. Wait. What the hell. Was I in a relationship? My body started to shake a bit. Would I miss her? Was that the issue?
Her face fell as she chewed the lipstick off her lower lip. Swear, it was physically impossible for the woman to keep anything on that pout of hers, not that I minded. Damn it, and now I was staring at her lips. “I’m working on it.”
“Work harder,” I said hoarsely, just needing her to get the hell away from me so I could think without her perfume making me want to take her into my arms and kiss the crap out of her.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re an ass.”
“Not what you said last night.”
“I was inebriated!”
“You were naked!” My voice raised. So. Naked.
Ass, hips, breasts. Damn those breasts.
Another phone in the air.
“We really need to get this under control,” Jordan muttered as more people took pictures of us. “Look, you have an interview this evening for Sirius radio. I’ll text you the address. Don’t show up drunk, and make sure your shirt’s tucked in.”
“Oh, good, I’ll do that. Just make sure you don’t have any stains on your breasts so I don’t get distracted.”
“I’ll be sure to eat with a napkin tucked into my shirt.” She grinned wide.
“You know, they do hand out those bibs with little crabs on them over at the Crab Shack. Meet me there for dinner,” I blurted.
She fidgeted with the strap of her purse, her eyes downcast as if the idea of dinner made her uncomfortable. “Why?”
“Because,” I said, rocking back on my heels, “we both need to eat.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows scrunched together while her shoulders noticeably slumped.
“Look.” I ran my hands through my hair. “We’re both exhausted after keeping Max up all night with our fake sex. We need food and hydration, and everything will look better once all that happens. Let’s have dinner after my interview, on me.”
Jordan sighed and checked her watch. “Okay, that’s fine. I’m going to go meet with another client, then I’ll—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I held up my hands. “Other client?”
“Reid.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for this. Of course I have other clients.”
“Who is he?” I didn’t mean to yell. Not really. But yell I did.
She smirked. “Why? Jealous?”
“No.” Yes.
“And what makes you think it’s a he?”
“Is it?” Say no. Just. Say. No.
“It’s Casey Carter.” She pulled out her cell while my entire line of vision went hazy with red.
“Casey Carter?” I repeated. “Casey ‘Can’t Keep It in His Pants’ Carter?”
“He keeps it in his pants just fine.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Her hip jutted out. I knew that look; I knew that stance. It would behoove men everywhere to memorize it so they recognized when it was time to stop talking and take cover.
“Just . . .” I took a few steps back. “Be careful with him. He’s British.”
“And that means what, exactly?”
“They, um, don’t . . . have the same . . . moral code.”
Jordan nodded mockingly. “You’re so right. I mean, those damn accents can only mean one thing. Sexual deviants. How could I be so blind? Tell you what, you can do this with your moral code talk.” She flipped me off, Italian style.
If I didn’t already like her, that would have sealed the deal.
It meant she didn’t give a shit.
Just another thing that made me like her more than I should. Wait, what? My arms started nervously itching. I did not do relationships—ever. The sooner she moved out of my apartment the sooner I could get back to being . . .
Lonely.
Shit.
I was screwed.
“Oh!” Jordan ran back toward me. “I forgot about Otis!”
“Otis is just fine.”
“Otis will pee all over your fancy apartment if you don’t take him out!” Her lower lip pouted. “Please?”
“What will you give me if I do?” Yes, I just went there.
“You know what—” She gripped her purse harder. “Fine, I’ll just be late. Forget about it.”
“Wait.” I held up my hand. “Fine, I’ll do it, but this isn’t a thing. I mean, we aren’t a thing.”
“What?”
“This . . .” My hands flailed in the air between us. “This can’t be a thing where we get all cozy and I take your dog for a crap in the park.”
Jordan looked heavenward. “It’s just a potty break, not an engagement announcement. I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon, all right?”
She stomped off.
And I was left feeling like a total ass. She was probably confused. Hell, I was confused. Things were getting muddled where our relationship was concerned. On one hand, I employed her. Yet I was living with her and fake seducing her, though at some point it had turned more and more real. I made a face and clenched my fists as her curvy ass made its way down the street. One minute I wanted to kiss her senseless, the next, kick her to the curb and lock my door. I needed to stop blurring the lines, both professionally and emotionally, or else things were about to get a lot worse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JORDAN