The smile breaks across my face at his insistence and his compassion. “Yes. I’m really okay, Fent.”
His sigh streams through the phone and the touch of frustration is not lost on me. “Are you alone?”
I pull out of the parking lot of Pano and onto the road leading to the freeway.
“You mean you aren’t following me?” I only half tease. It wouldn’t surprise me. And it wouldn’t anger me either. The thought of seeing him, just the two of us, makes me want to dance in the seat of the car.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Fenton’s voice comes out in a strained breath. “Are. You. Fucking. Alone?”
“Yes, I’m alone,” I mock him. “But just for giggles, what would you do if I weren’t? What would you do if I said that I was with Grant and his fingers were dipping insi—”
“Brynne . . .”
“What if I told you his lips were—”
“I’m trying to be calm,” he interrupts, making me giggle, “But you’re pushing the fucking limits of my self-restraint.”
“Ah, poor you.”
He snorts. “It’s going to be poor you if you keep it up.”
“I might like it.”
He growls, the sound lighting me up from every which way. “Turn around and come back here.”
“I need to get home.”
“Just give me a few minutes.”
I laugh. “It’s never just a few minutes with you.”
He chuckles, the smoothness warming me. “No, it’s not and it won’t be. I’m not that kind of guy.”
“Thankfully.”
“So turn the car around and come for me.”
“I can go home and come, Fent.” I grin as I steer down the exit towards my house. Just knowing I’m turning him on, listening to him get worked up is better foreplay than I’ve ever had with anyone else. Having an effect on a man of this caliber is exhilarating.
I wait for him to respond and he doesn’t. He sits on the other end of the phone, completely still, not uttering a word.
“You still there?” I ask.
“I’m trying to decide how to handle you.”
I burst into a fit of laughter.
“This isn’t funny, Brynne.”
“Oh, no, it really is.”
He seems to struggle with his words, starting to speak and then stopping a few times in a row. My laughter ceases and a dubious feeling takes its place.
“In all seriousness, can I see you tonight?”
The way the words hit me makes me lose my breath. He’s not being playful, not teasing me with sexual innuendo. I’m not sure how to read what he’s saying, but there’s some overriding quality that makes me still.
“I have to work in the morning,” I reply, my voice wobbly.
“I’ll triple it.”
I can’t help but smile. “We’ve been here before. You can’t buy your way all the time.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” His words are so low, I can barely make them out.
A heaviness sits on my chest, an odd sense of trepidation taking over. There’s something in his tone that makes me curious, but also one that wants me to keep my distance.
“I can send someone to pick you up if you’re almost home by now,” he offers as I pull into my house.
“I, um, I really can’t tonight, Fenton.” I flip off the ignition and inside the car. “I have a few questions for you before we see each other again.”
He sighs, but doesn’t miss a beat. “Shoot.”
A million things flutter through my mind, a host of questions and clarifications I need. I don’t even know where to start.
Presley’s Mercedes pulls in beside me and she jumps out and waggles two bottles of wine in the air.
“Now’s not a good time. I need a few minutes to get my head together. It’s been a crazy night.”
“All right,” he sighs. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“I thought you had work to do and you couldn’t see me?”
“I do have work to do and, honestly, I probably have no business seeing you. But what can I say?”
I grin. “Ah, Fent, did you fall in love with me?”
“No, but I’ll pretend to love you if you’ll come over tonight.”
Laughter rolls off my tongue and I open my car door. Presley is standing there waiting for me. “I really can’t tonight. I have a date.”
“It better be with Presley.”
“I—”
“I’m warning you,” he growls, “If you fuck with me again and pretend you’re with someone besides Presley, I’ll be at your door in ten minutes.”
“It’s with Presley,” I reply sweetly. “Now I gotta go.”
“Talk to you soon.”
“Bye.”
The white wine flows smoothly in the glass, the sound music to my ears. Presley fills it to the brim, way past the acceptable level, and sits the bottle back on the table.
My legs curled under me, I take a sip of the sweet liquid. “I needed this,” I say, licking the tanginess off my lips.
“I always need this.” She pops her feet up on an ottoman across from me and takes a long drink. “So good.”