Page 14 of Kissing Flynn

“Max Nolan,” I say.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Lars says, his gaze moving down to my chest before snapping back up to my eyes.

His hazel orbs are brimming with lust, and I’m slightly taken aback. I don’t know if I’ve ever had someone so overtly proposition me with a single gaze before. Maybe at a bar, or something, when I was just tipsy enough to enjoy it, but over breakfast at a work event? Never.

And it’s kind of giving me the ick.

“What time is your interview?” he asks, his tongue peeking out to wet his full lips.

“Four o’clock,” I reply, shifting my weight to put another inch of space between us. “What about you?”

Yeah, I know I shouldn’t encourage this conversation, but I also don’t want to be rude for no reason. I could be misreading the whole situation. Maybe Lars is just…friendly.

“Mine is at eleven,” he says, and his voice deepens as he adds, “Maybe we could have lunch together afterward…and maybe throw in a little dessert.”

His eyes move back to my breasts with that last bit, then slowly move down to my lap as Lars deeply inhales through his nose like he’s trying to smell…what? My pheromones? My arousal?

Good God. I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Does this shit really work with other women?

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice a little louder than before. “I have plans. I’m…um…having lunch with Flynn.”

I look at the man in question as I say his name, and I catch the frown he’s shooting in Lars’ direction before his face falls blank and he looks at me. I beg him with my eyes to back me up, and he smiles slightly before turning his attention back to Lars.

“Sorry, bro. I already asked,” he says with a casual shrug.

When I look back at Lars, I notice he doesn’t even look disappointed. He just tilts his head and gives me those bedroom eyes again before saying, “If you change your mind, you can find me in room six.”

With one last heated, suggestive look, he stands and strides from the room. I watch him go, my head shaking slightly. That one doesn’t lack confidence, does he? And probably with good reason.

He’s handsome, well-built, and a successful biographer. Women probably flock to him, but then again, they don’t know who he really is and haven’t read his book. I have.

Lars Klein is a sexist pig who thinks a woman’s greatest strength––the only one that matters, really––is her sex appeal. It was evident in his writing, and his actions with me just now proved it in my mind.

He finds me attractive, and that’s all he needed to know before trying to get me into his bed. Like I said, ick.

I glance back over at Flynn with a grateful smile. “Thanks for the backup. That guy’s a douche.”

“Agreed,” he says. “Happy to help.”

He starts to rise, and I panic. “Wait.”

With a shocked expression at my outburst, he plops back into his seat. My heartbeat stutters as I swallow thickly.

“I did actually want to talk to you. Meet me in my room in five minutes?”

I can hear the rush of blood behind my eardrums as he stares at me with unblinking eyes for several beats. Then slowly, he nods.

“Great,” I chirp, flinching at the crack in my voice. “See you in a few, then.”

With that, I scramble out of my own chair and scurry away from the table. My adrenaline is pumping like I’m on a roller coaster, slowly climbing the first big hill while anticipating the drop that will come after.

And the metaphor isn’t far-off. Reconnecting with Flynn is the hill. Not knowing what will happen next is the drop.

But I always did love roller coasters, and I don’t plan to chicken out before this one leaves the station.

Ten

Flynn

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