Page 18 of Tempt Me

“Oh, it’s nothing. At least, I don’t think it is.” She glances over her shoulder toward the crowded bar. “A few minutes ago, the waitress brought a drink over to me and said someone paid for it.”

“Who?” If Xavier is trying to get her wasted so he can take her home…. My hands ball into fists. All bets are off.

Her eyes meet mine. “Brock, I think. She vaguely described him, and said she thought that was his name, but wasn’t positive. She said his name could’ve been Brian or Bob. I didn’t see Brock anywhere tonight, did you?”

“No.” That son of a bitch. “I didn’t see him, but I wasn’t looking for him either.” I take a step toward the bar.

“Don’t.” Bella grabs my arm. “It probably wasn’t him anyway. How many guys are here tonight with blond hair? Probably 50. Any one of them could’ve bought me a drink. Besides, it’s best if we act like he doesn’t exist.” Her fingertips press into my flesh, warming my skin. “Thank you again for the phone. It was thoughtful of you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How was work this week?” She drops her arm to her side as two girls speedwalk past us, yanking the door open to the bathroom. Although I can’t make out what they’re saying the animated way their eyes flash and hands wave in the air is a clear indication they’re angry about something.

“It was good. I worked on your brother’s tattoo. Sam is getting the head of a lion on his shoulder. It’s going to look fantastic.”

“Your artwork is always fabulous.” She bites her bottom lip, and my entire body tightens in response. I want to be the one kissing those lips. Sucking them into my mouth. Devouring her. “Have you drawn any new designs? The last ones I saw took my breath away.”

“A few.” I shrug as visions of page after page of Bella in every position imaginable overwhelm me. There’s no way she’s seeing that notebook. No one has and no one ever will. Even if it’s the best work I’ve ever done.

“Can I see them sometime? Maybe I can come over tomorrow, and you can show them to me.”

“Uh….” I step to the side and stare at the wall behind her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Tattoos aren’t your thing. You don’t have to pretend to be interested.”

“What do you mean by tattoos aren’t my thing?”

“Well….” I cringe as her eyes flash, letting me know I’m on shaky ground, but there’s no way around it. If she sees my portfolio, she’ll know I’m obsessed with her to a level that Brock can’t even compete with. I rarely have time to work on designs for clients because I’m fixated on every curve and line on her body. “You’re a good girl.”

“That’s so annoying.” She waves her hand in the air between us. “Why do I have to be labeled a good girl, and why is that bad anyway?”

Sweat breaks out on my forehead. This conversation is going epically bad. This is why I don’t talk to her. I always stick my foot in my mouth and make her angry. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” I’m sinking fast, and no lifeboat is going to float by and get me out of it.

“You implied it.” She crosses her arms over her chest, causing her breasts to strain against her tight top. Jesus. Get your head out of your ass. She taps the toe of her shoe on the floor.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re just not the type of girl that comes in and gets a tattoo, and there’s nothing wrong with those kinds of girls, either. It’s just two different types of people.”

She gives me a death glare. “Does your boss have a tattoo?”

“Rob? Yes, he’s covered in tattoos.”

“No. The woman. Rissa, I think you said her name was.”

“No, Rissa doesn’t have tattoos. She doesn’t like the commitment of having artwork drawn on her because her ideas of beauty change over time.”

“Ugh.” She spins on her heel and marches away from me.

“What in the hell is that about?”

She flips her head around, causing her hair to whip across her face. “That’s because this Rissa woman is perfect.”

I wrinkle my nose, trying to make sense of her comment. She doesn’t even know Rissa. “Do you need me to drive you home? You rarely drink. Are you sure you’re not too drunk to drive?” That would explain this entire bizarre conversation.

The rest of her body whips around as fast as her head did, and she stalks back toward me with her index finger pointed at my chest. “I’m not two years old. Nor am I a prissy princess who can’t tie her own shoes.” Her finger pokes into my chest as adrenaline courses through my veins. It probably shouldn’t turn me on that she’s yelling at me, but it does.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t take care of yourself.”

She tips her chin up. “I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions, which I fully intend to start doing tonight. And that includes taking Xavier up on his proposition.” She frowns and withdraws her finger. “Well, not all of it, but some of it. It’s time I take control of my future and make my own decisions. To hell with what my brothers, my parents, or even what you think. I’m in control of my life. Not anyone else. Thank you very much.”

She dismisses me and stomps back to the bar with her shoulders back and her ass swaying. If that was for me, I’d beone happy man. But it’s not. It’s for my best friend. Fucking great.

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