Page 5 of Detention with Daddies

“You are?” It’s a teasing question to try to get her to elaborate, but she only smiles at me and nods.

Shrewd.

I like that too.

And the way her hips sway when she walks, nearly bumping into mine. My fault for sticking so close. I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing onto her. How inappropriate. What can I say? I’m not prepared for the fire burning through me at her mere presence. Fuck, I don’t even know her name.

“Can I ask what you’re working on?”

She flips her hair over her shoulder, letting it sway down her back. “You can, but that doesn’t mean I’ll tell you.”

Even though she’s teasing me back, I sense a bit of resistance at the small prod. She’s either lacking in trust over sharing her research—which is understandable, academia is full of thieves—or she’s insecure about her topic.

And to be fair, I am a virtual stranger.

I pause at the elevator, hitting the button to go up, and extend my hand to her. “Name’s Nick by the way.”

When she slips her long, delicate fingers into mine, I get another zap of electricity. “Olivia.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” My fingers close around hers, and she gives me a squeeze. I like it. Better than the limp fish I usually get from women, especially dainty ones.

No, there’s nothing dainty about Olivia. I like that so much.

She raises her brow at me when I keep hold of her hand for too long. Can’t say I’m not contemplating kissing her knuckles, but that would certainly be going too far too soon. Letting go of her is a long process as the elevator doors open, and I lead her inside.

“See, now we’re old friends. I’m trustworthy. You can tell me about your project.”

“Mmm.”

Why does that simple sound purse her lips in such a tantalizing way?

“Besides, I’m not in research. I work with coaches and athletes on training regimens.” I hit the button for the third floor and stuff my hands in my pockets before I reach out to touch her again. Manhandling her certainly won’t gain me any confidences.

She doesn’t seem opposed to my flirting though. And she’s got sass. I bet she can give back as good as she takes it.

In fact, she gives me a serious once-over as if she can judge whether or not to trust me based on that second glance. Or is a third?

“Maybe I’ll tell you the next time we see each other. Assuming you’ll be around.”

What a tempting offer. It’s a good thing that this place is practically my second home. “I’m always around.”

The elevator doors open, and I hold the doors open as she steps past. Her citrus scent has me taking a deeper breath than I should. Way to be the creepy older guy in the office.

She doesn’t call me on it though. I extend my hand out straight and walk her toward Matteo’s office at the end of the hall.

Her smile is sultry this time. Knowing.

See, I called it. She’s enjoying this flirty exchange as much as I am.

When I stop us, she turns to me easily. “Then, you can ask me then.”

MATTEO

Paperwork is the bane of my existence, and it’s piling up because my assistant is out for the next seven weeks. I rub a hand down my face in frustration and blow out a slow breath.

Footsteps approach my office door. I set my pen down and wait as the murmuring voices near.

I see a flash of red hair and relax a fraction. It’s not the nurses here to cause a ruckus. Thank God.

---