Page 11 of Her Top Dog
I had just finished telling Missy every dirty detail. Okay, well, maybe not every dirty detail… but she got the gist. I dropped my forehead to the table at Guiseppe’s as Missy stared at me, mouth agape. “I think we’re going to need another bottle of wine.”
“And a round of cannoli,” I added. Booze wasn’t my go-to feel-good option. It was Thursday night… almost a full work week since Sam and I had had sex. On my desk. On my first day at work.
Missy gestured at the server for another bottle of wine and two cannoli. Dutifully, she quickly brought them both over, and I barely waited for the wine to be poured before I grabbed my fork and dug into the flaky pastry.
“I thought you said he was a manwhore?” Missy said, opting to sip the wine rather than demolish her cannoli, like I did.
I groaned and rubbed the heels of my hands against my eyes. “He was,” I said, then quickly corrected myself. “Is.” But even that didn’t feel true any longer. Because the way he held me after we finished—the way he dragged his fingers up and down over my back and caressed me, cleaned me up after and helped me get dressed, felt intimate. It didn’t feel like a frustrated fuck to release the sexual tension between us.
Dammit.That would have been so much simpler. He was tender and sweet and he had tried checking in on me several times throughout the week. Thankfully, I was able to avoid him through Sarah and stuck my assistant on him every moment I could.
Not that I wanted to see him and Sarah together. I’d rather gouge out my eyes than watch him start a relationship with her. But for now, it was a good distraction to avoid talking about us… whateverusactually was.
Missy’s eyes lifted, moving over my shoulder. “Well, that manwhore seems to only have eyes for you.”
I bit off another chunk of cannoli and, with a mouth full of ricotta and pastry, asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Thirsty Thursdays at Guisseppe’s,” a deep voice rumbled from above me.
I froze mid-bite and turned to look at where Sam stood, still in his gray pinstripe pants, pink button-down shirt and patterned tie. Never in my life had I seen an actor dress up to go into a studio office every day like he did.
I glanced around, looking for his brothers, our producers, editors… anyone who might be here with him or catch us here together. “How did you know I’d be here?”
“Sarah,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “She’s pretty easy to get information from.”
“I bet she is,” I muttered and took a long sip from my wine glass.
Sam’s eyes narrowed at me. “I wouldn’t know any other way she was easy,” he said. “I only have eyes for one woman in our office.”
“Harley?” I asked, brows cocked and fully loaded like a semi-automatic weapon.
Missy leaned in, resting her elbows on the table. “Oh, is that his assistant.”
“Mydog,” he clarified, that cocky smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. That same mouth that had been between my legs days ago, doing magical things to my body. “And sure. Maybe you’re right… I’ll always have eyes for Harley. She’s my top dog.”
“Oh,” Missy said, scrunching her nose. “I thought this was about to get juicy.” Then, reaching into her purse, Missy pulled out her wallet and tossed some cash down. “I should get going anyway,” she said. “Leave you two to talk.”
Sam smiled. “Thank you, Missy.”
I pursed my lips, shaking my head at my best friend. “You don’t need to do that. Sam was just leaving, I’m sure—”
“Actually, that cannoli looks awfully good. Maybe I’ll order one for myself.”
Missy gave me a little wave, hiking her purse onto her shoulder, and as she crossed behind Sam to leave, she pointed at me and mouthed,Talk to him.
This could not happen. I couldn’t sit here with this man I’d had sex with on my desk on the first day of my job and … what? Talk? Kiss? Let him smear cannoli cream on my body and lick it off…?
Fuck. My sex pulsed at the thought, and I shoved back in my chair, standing and tossing some twenties onto the table with Missy’s cash. “I was just leaving, too.” I’m sure I way overpaid, but I didn’t even care at the moment. I just needed to get away from Sam.
He followed me out of the restaurant. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not,” I objected.
“Youare. I tried to take you to lunch on Tuesday…”
“I already had lunch plans.” A total lie. I ended up scurrying out of my office and eating my salad in the ladies’ room to avoid running into Sam somewhere.
“And Wednesday?”
