“Thank you,” I say for a third time this trip, mildly surprised by his actions.

He smiles slowly, his green eyes reflecting a flash of amusement. “It’s simple manners, Bee.”

“Of course.” I straighten my skirt as he reaches for the studio door and holds that open, too.

He touches his fingers to my waist as I come to walk past him and dips his head. “Some of us are still gentlemen, you know.”

“Nice to know,” I whisper on an inhale.

Acts like a gentleman. Talks like a wet dream. Fucks like a pornstar.

I’m. So. Screwed.

***

We leave Kevin Peters’ studio happy, and Carter with a further two pieces commissioned, this time for his house. Apparently the man is somewhat of an art connoisseur.

Me? I just want something to eat. I’m starving.

“Are you headed back to the restaurant to make your calls or your office?” he asks me once we’re in the car and heading back into Manhattan.

“The office would be great. It gets noisy when they start ripping shit up.”

He nods and checks his watch. “We can stop for lunch if you’d like.”

“Oh… It’s okay. I’ll order something in when I get to my office.”

“Are you sure? I know a really great burger place.” His eyebrows arch, and the upward turn of his lips are convincing.

“I’m not really dressed for a burger place,” I answer. “Honestly, I’m fine. Thank you for offering, though.”

He sighs and sits back. “You’re one of those salad-only types, aren’t you?”

“Only if I can order pizza the next day.” I snort. “Trust me. I watch what I eat but I’m not obsessive. I enjoy a burger as much as the next person.” I won’t tell him I ate almost a whole sharing bag of tortilla chips right before we met.

“So get lunch.”

I sigh softly. “That isn’t a good idea, is it?”

“Why? We’ve been successfully alone for…” He looks at the time. “…Almost two hours.”

I purse my lips. “Which is against what we agreed.”

He rests his arm across the back of the seat and levels his gaze on me. “Bee, I’m not asking you on a date. I’m asking you if you’d like lunch. Fuck, argue about buying your own if it’ll make you feel better. We have a working relationship and I’d never do something that’ll make you uncomfortable.”

I could really, really go for a burger right now. “Okay, okay. Fine. But I am paying for my own.”

The smirk that accompanies his side-eyed glance as he sits forward to tell the driver where to go informs me that my argument is entirely futile, but hey.

It feels good just to make that point… Even if it was a waste of breath.

After several minutes of silence ranging from comfortably looking out of the window to awkward moments of eye contact and an almost knee-brush, we pull up outside a burger place. Once again, Carter helps me out of the car, purse and all, before shutting the door. He places a hand on my lower back and guides me into the building with a gentle push.

A shiver runs down my spine, one I can’t control. His fingers twitch where his touch is burning into my skin at my side. My heart does a quick double beat as the smell of burgers assaults my senses. I do my best to focus on the rich scent, but I can’t.

The sensation of his touch is just too consuming.

He keeps his hand on my back as I stutter my way through my order and make a last-ditch attempt to protest about him paying for my lunch. I only breathe easily when he lets me go to pull out his card and pay.

I take the chance to run and snag a table. I just… need to breathe. It’s like he’s touched me once and through his fingertips, he’s drawn out every bit of oxygen I need to survive.

These feelings are insane. So what if we had one night? So what if I know all the things he wants to do to me and in all the places? Christ—this isn’t okay. Why did I let him talk me into lunch?

What’s it going to be next? He’s going to talk his way into slipping his cock inside me?

I don’t care if he is being a gentleman. I don’t like him being a gentleman. I don’t think I can take one more brush of his hand across any part of me, even if it’s my fucking shoulder or ankle something.

Hell, don’t even touch my purse, man. I’d probably shudder at that shit, too.

I need to calm down. I need to breathe. Nine more days of this—surely I can do this by avoiding him? Call ahead before I go to the restaurant or just hope he has other things to do? That works, doesn’t it?

Questions, questions, questions. It’s always questions with him, isn’t it?

Maybe Charley was right. Maybe I’m a dumbass for not fucking him again when I had the chance, when he was offering it right there and then. Would I want him less if I did?

Should I try—

No. I shouldn’t. I should not try and proposition him.

“It’ll be around ten minutes,” Carter says, taking the seat next to me and putting my water in front of me. “Tell me about Donnelly Designs.”

I take the bottle and uncap it. “What about it?”

“How did you start it? You’re part owner, right?”

Slowly, I nod. “My mom owns the majority. She started it when I left college.” I run through everything, and when I’m done, our food is here.

“So your mom controls it all?”

“Kind of.” I dab the corner of my mouth with my napkin and peer up at him through my eyelashes. “Thanks for calling her that time, by the way. She’s still bitching at me about my supposed attitude.”

His eyes glitter with restrained laughter. “My apologies. I’ll make sure to follow up and tell her how talented you are.”

I stare at him flatly. “Gee, that doesn’t sound patronizing at all.”

He grins and takes a bite out of his burger.

I kind of want to hit him in the face with mine.

Thankfully, he doesn’t respond, and we finish our lunch in amicable silence. Well, I say amicable… His silence is amicable. Mine is definitely pissed off. I think I’m learning he has this effect on me.

Turns me on one minute, pisses me off the next.

We make our way outside where the car is still waiting, and I glance over it. There are an abundance of cabs, several of which look empty, and I weigh up my options—another few minutes with him in a car or get a cab?

It isn’t hard to choose.

“Thank you for lunch,” I say to him, tucking some of my hair behind my ear. “I need to get back to the office now, but I can check in with you later to update you.”

“I’d appreciate that. Can I take you there?”

I smile coyly. “Until you’re in the driver seat, you’re not really taking me anywhere, are you?”

One of his dark eyebrows quirks up. “Well, any time you want me to hop into it, I’ll be happy to take you wherever you want to go.” His voice is husky, and fuck the goosebumps that are appearing up and down my arms. Fuck them so hard.

I step off the curb and raise my arm. A cab turns toward me almost instantly, and I grab the door handle, wrenching it open. “Noted, Mr. Hughes.”

“Have a good afternoon, Ms. Donnelly.”

Oh I will, I think as I get in the back seat and direct the driver to our office building. Especially since he won’t be in it.

Chapter Nine

“Well, that was a bust.” Charley sighs and drops herself onto my snuggle armchair. Her purse falls to the floor, and she kicks her heels off.

I wince as they hit my wooden floor, heel first. “The date? Why?” I almost forgot that tonight was her second date with Carter’s friend… The bastard behind my initial meeting with the man.

She groans. “He thought we’d… You know.”

“Bump bulls?”

“Yes. That. I had to disappoint him because I don’t have sex on the second date.”

“You’re on your period, aren’t you?”

Another groan, but this one sounds so much more painful. “Yes! And it’s like a thousand rabid woodpeckers are trying to drill their way through the walls of my uterus!”

I get up, walk to the pill drawer, and grab a packet of period pain pills. I throw them at her head. “Here, bitchypants. Take two of those.”