Page 32 of Maneater
For a split second, I hope and pray he’s going to kiss me. To pull me into him, to press his body to mine.
But then he blinks and shakes his head like he’s shaking the thought from it. “It wasn’t planned. My boss asked me to stop by andsay hello, and when I did, she asked me to stay for dinner. I didn’t decline because her husband is on the board.” It’s a simple explanation, really, but it also feels like an appeasement. Like something he’s sharing so I won’t have my feelings hurt. There’s also the basic point that he doesn’toweme any kind of explanation at all. My mind is churning on that fact as we stand, staring at each other before he speaks again. “And you?”
“Me?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“You and Horace. Seemed cozy.”
I shrug, fighting a smile. “He’s an interesting person. He also seems to know a lot about a lot of things.”
Rowan steps closer then, and I take one back until my back is to the wall, his body towering over mine in a way I remember from the bar, in a way Ilike, even if I think I should probably be nervous. Though he doesn’t touch me at all, I can feel the heat of him coming off in waves.
“There’s something about you,” he whispers, breath playing along my lips.
“That I am frustratingly gorgeous?” I ask, my own words so faint I almost don’t hear them, but clearly, he does.
“Yes. And distracting, but that’s not what I meant.” I like the idea of him finding me distracting and gorgeous, but I don’t have time for some flirty retort before he speaks again. “You have a secret, Josie Montgomery. And I’m going to find out what it is.”
My heart pounds, trying to work through thoughts and ideas of excuses and explanations quickly, but as always, the simple answer is the best one.
“What kind of secret could I possibly be keeping?” I whisper.
“I have no idea, but it’s driving me out of my mind. You’re gorgeous, you’re funny. You’re smart, and you don’t take shit from anyone. And yet, you seemingly choose to spend your time with assholes. Every time I see you, you’re at the nicest restaurants in Hudson City with rich men you have no interest in. You?—”
My pulse is pounding with a sense of thrill and danger, bothbecause he’s asking far too many questions and because he’s taking this many notes about me. I cut him off to stop him and his train of thought.
“Who said I have no interest in the men I go on dates with?”
With my question, his smile goes cocky, his eyes traveling down my body in a way that burns.
“Your body tells me everything I need to know.” He shifts an inch closer, so my breasts are just barely grazing his chest, and I fight the urge to arch into him. “Your face? Your face is always on: you look so invested in every word he’s saying, but your body couldn’t care less. Your body looks like you’re at a board meeting, taking notes.” He shifts his head, leaning back just a bit and taking me in as if to prove a point before smiling down at me. “Unlike now. Your body now? Interested. Hanging on every word I say. Invested.”
I fight the urge to shift away from him to counter what he’s saying, but it would just prove his point further, and he would clearly catch the small move because he’sgoodat this. An expert at reading me. I’ve never met anyone able to dissect tiny changes in movements and body language as well as I can, and at this moment, I can’t tell if it’s annoying or the biggest turn-on of my life. No one haseverbeen able to see past the intricate walls I’ve put up; no one has ever been able to see beyond what Iallowthem to see.
Until Rowan.
“That’s why I’m always so perplexed when I see you out. You’re on, flirting and pushing your tits up, distracting whoever you’re out with. But that’s all it is: you’reon. You’re not there for your own pleasure.”
“What do you know about my pleasure, Rowan?” I ask in a flirty whisper that I don’t even mean to put into my voice.
He smiles then, all wide and devious, like he was hoping that’s what I would say next.
“I think we both know how in tune I am to your pleasure, baby.”
I lick my lips, suddenly parched under his hot gaze.
“What are you going to do about it?” I whisper. “With yourunique knowledge of my wants and needs?” I don’t know what my intention is for my question, but I ask it nonetheless.
My heart drops when his demeanor changes as if a bucket of cold water is dumped over him before he steps back, cold air filling the space he just was. He shakes his head, running a hand through his carefully groomed, thick, dark hair and making a small clump fall to his forehead before he answers.
“Nothing.”
I fight the disappointment from showing on my face, reminding myself I am here for ajob. I am here to solve a problem, not to flirt with the VP of Operations.
“Then I guess you’ll just keep bumping into me and getting that jealous little frown on your face,” I say, stepping back toward the entrance of the restaurant, forgetting I came out here under the guise of using the ladies’ room.
Rowan’s eyebrows furrow with my words.
”I don’t have a jealous little frown.”
