Page 26 of Playing Pretend

“But…” Pete raises a hand. “Before we give you the rest of the day to yourselves, we thought it might be an appropriate time to do a team bonding exercise.”

A volcano of groans erupts.

“There’s no need for the bad attitudes.” Pete raises his voice over the movement of chairs and hushed discontent. “Go get a snack and change into casual attire if you haven’t already done so. Then meet us on the grass bank beside the outdoor bar. We’re going to have a quick game of Capture the Flag.”

“Capture the Flag?” Cassidy mutters as we shuffle our way to the door alongside everyone else attempting to flee. “Are we teenagers?”

“When was the last time you saw a teenager play anything other than video games?” I ask.

She shrugs. “True. So we’ve been relegated to toddler status?”

“At least he allows toddlers to drink.” Max squeezes past us. “I need to rebound, and the only way to do that is with more liquor. I’ll see you at the bar.”

“Pete said the grassbesidethe bar.”

Max continues weaving his way through the mini crowd. “I said what I said.”

I follow the slow progression into the hall, contemplating whether Max has the right idea or if more coffee is the answer while most of my colleagues disperse.

“Look.” Cassidy jerks her chin over my shoulder, her eyes dancing. “Your Greek god is here.”

I turn, finding Rome stalking toward us, his grey tank slicked with sweat and sticking to his chest while his black shorts do the same to his tanned thighs.

“Holy damn, that man is fine,” she murmurs.

He continues forward, grabbing the hem of his tank and dragging it upward to expose his ridiculously muscular stomach as he uses the material to wipe the sweat from his face. “Morning, ladies.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Vanessa cuts me off from a few feet away with a seductive “Hello, Rome.” Two other women from the Newport Beach office give similar eager greetings.

It’s a chore not to roll my eyes as he stops before me with his mega-watt grin, reveling in the attention.

“Miss me?” he asks.

With the new dawn comes a new day, motherfucker.Let the games begin. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” He won’t get to me. I’ve got my professionalism on lock.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He weaves a possessive arm around my waist, sweeping me off-balance.

Warmth floods my veins as I place my palms on his damp chest, trying to defuse yet another predictable PDA. “Rome—”

He swoops in, stealing my words with his mouth.

I’m caught off-guard.

Shellshocked.

His lips dance over mine, ridiculously gentle while my mind screams.This isn’t real. It’s all part of the challenge. The test.Yet my body reacts as if it’s just scrunched up the memo and thrown it in the disposal.

My heart races. My stomach flips.

When his tongue sweeps across my lips, a whimper escapes me. An audible, needy sound of surrender. The lack of cognitive thought makes it impossible to do anything other than cling to his shirt and follow his lead. To take the path of least resistance, returning the affection for the briefest second.

Then, in a blink, it’s over.

From tumultuous tsunami to rapid vacuum in the space of a second.

He inches back, staring down at me, those dark eyes molten.

This doesn’t feel like a game. Not unless it’s a sordid version of Jumanji, each challenge decidedly worse than the last.

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