Page 16 of False Start, Real Passion

I take a sip. The wine is rich and heavy on my tongue. “You’re staring.”

“I’m appreciating.”

I scoff. “That’s what you call it?”

“Yes. You act like I don’t see how you react to me. You pretend it doesn’t get to you, but I know better.”

I set my glass down. “You really think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“I do when it comes to you.”

He’s still watching me like he already knows how this night will end.

“So, this PR strategy of yours,” he leans back in his seat, “it’s all about control, isn’t it?”

“It’s about rehabilitating your image.”

“Right.” He chuckles, low and deep. “Because you think I’m an overgrown child who can’t handle himself.”

“If the shoe fits.” I shrug, sipping my wine.

“Careful. You know what they say about assumptions.”

“Oh, I don’t assume.” I set my glass down, meeting his stare head-on. “I observe. And what I’ve observed is a man who needs a firm hand.”

“Is that an offer?” His voice drops, rough and suggestive.

Heat rushes through me, but I force a smile. “You wish.”

He leans forward and his fingertip traces along the back of my hand. “Tell me you don’t feel this.”

I do. God help me, I do, but I place dumb. “I feel annoyance.”

His finger stills and he doesn’t pull away. “Liar.” The word hangs in the air like a dare.

“You don’t know me, Reid.”

“Don’t I?” His finger resumes its path. “I think I’m starting to.”

He’s too close. Too perceptive. He sees too much.

I pull my hand away, reaching for my wine. “You don’t stop, do you?” I take another sip.

He just watches me.

“You’re doing the staring thing. Again.”

“Oh, am I? You know, Sloane, you’re not what I expected.”

“And what did you expect?”

“Someone... colder. More clinical. But you’re not like that. You’re... different.”

I hesitate, unsure of how to reply. “This is just a job to me Jaxon. Nothing more.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.”

I watch him slid out from his seat before he moves around the table to join me.

---