Page 39 of The Hookup
He could see right through her. Women were easy enough to read, in his experience, and, despite what Kay said, she was a romantic.
They all were.
And this was the problem.
Even his mother had been a complete romantic, right up until the end, clinging to futile hope even when his father hadn’t been interested.
Kay, for all her brash talk, for all her insistence that she could handle the type of relationship he offered—one based purely on physical needs—was not as tough as she tried to make out.
She wanted a connection, first and foremost, and then, love. Women did.
He’d had no intention of calling her after that last time, even though before he had left her, he had implied there might be a next time. The more he thought about it, the more he didn’t like the way he seemed drawn towards her. For that reason, it seemed better to cut off with her completely.
They’d fucked, and that was it.
He was over it.
Except that she had turned up in his bar tonight, and damn it if the sight of her in her smart working clothes didn’t turn him on. He didn’t understand the interest, couldn’t even pin it down to him having been celibate for a few months prior. Maybe a tiny fraction of it had been pity. He’d felt sorry for her, alone at the bar, the same way he felt sorry for her when she’d turned up here, her scent of desperation, combined with her curves, making for a tempting combination.
And now that he’d had a taste of her, now that she was back here again, now that he remembered her words, and her claim that he’d left her unsatisfied, well, he needed to make up to her.
So he spent the next hour half in conversation with some guests at the bar, and half in keeping an eye on Kay.
Now that she was here, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by.
He watched her kiss Savannah, and get her things together. Then he watched her leave. Calm as anything, he strode over to her, meeting her just as she pressed the elevator button to go down.
“You’re leaving already?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her expression registered a sliver of surprise, but the ding of the elevator made her turn her head. She schooled her expression as the doors slid open, but he pressed the button to close them.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice sharp. “I was waiting for that.”
“I need to talk to you.”
She looked at him. “About?” Those full lips tempting him.
“You’re still mad at me.”
“No I’m not.”
He didn’t believe her. “You barely said hello,” he challenged.
“That mattered to you?”
“Not too much.”
Yes.
Maybe.
He sucked in a breath, then leaned forward, his lips almost touching her earlobe. “I knew you couldn’t handle it,” he whispered, up close to her ear.
“Icanhandle it,” she insisted. “I work with men who are bigger dicks than you.”
Her verbal slap hit him hard and prompted a quick comeback. “Havebigger dicks, orare?”
She let out a strangled gasp of exasperation, clearly annoyed by his blatantly wrong interpretation. “Are you sure you don’t have a twin? Because this is not the guy I met at the island,” she shot back, clearly pissed at him.
