Page 33 of Tempt

His eyebrows rose. “Woodforde’s Wherry. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes I get in these moods where I really like to go to the bar and try all the unusual ones. I’m definitely getting that itch this week so I’m polling everyone and making a list.”

“Ah. May I make a suggestion then?”

Oh this was good. Martin was actually having a conversation with me. Score for the causal beer! “Absolutely.”

“The Fable. I think, as a visitor, you will quite like the atmosphere.”

“Thanks, Martin.”

He made a left turn. We were about three minutes from my apartment. I needed to move things along.

“So Martin… I know I shouldn’t be asking you this and you probably won’t answer—which is totally fine, by the way—and really? I should be asking Theo this, not you, but I kinda don’t want to hear it from Theo, but at the same time I want to know, so I thought maybe I’d just ask you even though you probably can’t say anything.” I let all my babble out in one breath hoping it came out as genuine and honest—which it was.

His eyes met mine in the mirror and I got the impression he knew exactly what I was asking even though I hadn’t actually asked anything yet. “I suppose it never hurts to ask.”

“How often do you drive women home for Theo?”

Complete and total silence hung in the air. The palpable kind.The crushing kind. Either Martin wasn’t going to answer, or the number was going to be so large it would put a little crack in my heart. I knew there were others, he knew what he was doing when it came to sex, and he was a drop-dead gorgeous man in his thirties.

Of coursethere were others.

I guess what I was really asking, underneath the words and doubts, was whether or not I was just another number. I wanted to be different. I wanted us to be different.

Martin pulled up to my curb and got out without saying a word. I waited for him to open my door because he liked to do it and because he did a quick sweep of the area first. Considering I had no idea what the deal was with this guy and the mistake from Theo’s past that seemed to be such a threat, I trusted that Martin knew what he was doing.

The door opened and I took his hand as I got out, but instead of lightly holding my hand and letting me go on my way like he usually did, he drew my hand toward him and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“You are the only woman I have ever driven home for Mr. Sutherland.”

Chapter 13

Ididn’t see Theo for two weeks after that. Not once. I was busy with work and so was he. I knew this because I’d gotten a couple of text messages—mostly distant and sexual in nature like,Working still, but I miss the way it feels to be buried inside you.

Not exactly romance, but what did I expect from an arrangement like this? I was constantly shocked by what Theo was willing to put in text format and I took screenshots of just the message, careful not to include contact information, before deleting each one. Every so often I opened up the folder in my photo album and flipped through my dirty little notes, reminding myself of two things: We were in this for fun and Theo, despite what I may ultimately want from him, was not my lover. He was my fuck buddy.

But I was curious. Was he really keeping his distance because he was insanely busy, or was it everything that happened the last night we were together? My gut told me it wasn’t a coincidence that I hadn’t seen him since then. He was still there, still texting, but just out of reach. If he’d wanted to end things, he would have ended them. He wasn’t the kind of guy to string a girl on. He liked what we had. Maybe he just needed a push.

I picked up my phone and opened up a new message to Theo.Can you work me in tonight?Emotionally unattached and yet to the point.

A moment later I got a reply.Martin is on the way.

I had expected him to say he’d meet me tomorrow or maybe in a couple of hours—not ten minutes. So I ran to the shower to rinse off my day, slipped into a simple, but form-fitting, cotton grey shift dress, and slipped on some black heels. I was just putting some fresh lipstick on my lips when there was a knock at my door.

“You’re very efficient,” I said to Martin as I locked my door behind me.

He helped me into my wool coat. “This is what I do. Did you have a good day at work?”

“I did. And you?”

“It’s been a long couple of weeks.” Just before Martin turned away I saw the telltale signs of fatigue in his eyes. That weathered look and extra set of wrinkles you get when you haven’t had a good, dream-filled night of sleep in too long.

“I’m sorry. Hopefully things will settle down?” I didn’t want to keep prying if Martin wasn’t comfortable with my questions.

“Indeed. They always do.” That was all he said until we pulled up to the rear entrance of the iON Building.

Which was weird.

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