Page 25 of Love is an Open Book
An answering heat rises to my own face, which is ridiculous. It’s not like I’m a stranger to role-play, just the idea of doing it with Mia. To pull my mind from tempting images, I say, “Makes sense. We’re acting out workplace romance, so we should get into character.” I go to lean back, but the chair has me in a vise grip, posture like a supervillain. “Why am I here working in your office?”
“Backstory. Hmm.” She drums her fingers on the desk, slipping into what I recognize as brainstorming mode. “You work remotely, but your roommate is your ex-girlfriend who’s trying to become a yoga influencer, and she says your loud typing ruins her flow.”
I’m nodding along. “So I’ve been working in the coffee shop, and we got to chatting about how expensive their cold brew is when you can just—”
“Make it at home,” she says, lighting up. “And then we got to arguing over whose cold-brewing method was superior—”
“Mine. I use dry ice.”
“I tell you that’s ridiculous, which it is by the way. Dry ice?” She raises her brows but keeps rolling with the idea. “And howyou should try mine instead, but we both have projects to finish, so we sample each other’s coffee while working late into the night...”
That catches my attention. “That took a steamy turn.”
“It’s kind of what I do best,” she says, with obvious pride, but then she deflates. “Except this isn’t a book. We’re sitting here in my office in the middle of the day and physical stuff is off the table, so really, this is pointless.”
I hate seeing the defeat in her eyes. For this to be a success, she needs to let me in. Even though she’s never seen me as anything more than a friend, I can’t help but remember what she said last night. That maybe, I might have a chance.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I venture, testing the waters. “But we can pretend, right?”
Her eyes shoot to mine, dark and curious. “Pretend how?”
“However far we want to.” The words slip out. “I mean, getting physical is out of the question. Per the contract.”
“One you never signed,” she says.
“Neither did you,” I remind her, steering my mind away from that potential loophole. “But I was thinking more along the lines of flirting. Fake flirting,” I clarify.
“What’s the difference?”
“Intent. If I flirt with you today, it will be to help you forget about your book.”
“And if you flirted with me for real?” She’s holding herself very still, only her gaze roving over my face, and I realize I’m barely breathing, muscles taut.
“If I flirted with you for real, it would be to get closer to you. To see what makes Mia let go.” I shouldn’t be saying this; I’ve never even let myself think it. “If I flirted with you, it would be to tease out the hidden parts of you, the ones you hold back.”
Her lips part, eyes wide, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve pushed it too far. But there’s more than surprise in her gaze... interest, maybe? Curiosity, for sure. Seeing it has me tippingtoward her, my normal resolve to resist the attraction frayed to a thread.
She swallows, and my gaze dips to the kissable peek of skin at her open collar. “Flirt away, then. I can handle it.” She sweeps a casual hand toward her stomach. “No butterflies in sight.”
I jerk my eyes back up to hers, and see a flicker I long to ignite. “No?” I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees, watching her. “Because I think you like being teased.”
“Excuse me?” Her voice is breathy, and my pulse kicks up. She’s definitely affected.
“You like a guy to mess around with you. You always go out with serious guys in real life, but in your books, the heroines always fall for the guys who get a rise out of them.”
“That’s fiction.”
“Or it’s you holding yourself back from men who you might fall for.” I’ve seen her around guys she likes, and ones she doesn’t. And I know just how much she likes someone that can make her laugh, pull her out of her routine. It’s just too bad I can never be that guy. “You pursue men who are nothing like your friends—”
“Nothing likeyou, you mean?” She crosses her arms, settling back, and I get the sense she’s faking being unaffected, and it only fuels my desire to get past her walls.
“All I’m saying is maybe you’re scared of how good things could be between us.”
“And how is that, exactly?”
The wise thing to do would be to back off. But it feels like a challenge. Like she thinks I haven’t been paying attention all these years.
“Can’t say for sure, but I have a few guesses.” A bluff. I’ve never allowed my mind to wander in that direction. Kept it reined in. But now it’s easy to go there, to let my mind slip through the padlocked gate of desire.
