Page 33 of Baby One Last Time
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
“Wait, what about the team dinner?” Great. I finally remembered how to speak and out came something pathetically thirsty.
“I won’t make it. I have an appointment with X.”
So they could share more secrets he’d never tell me. “Good for you. But don’t bother knocking on my door when you get back to do”—I pointed between us—“whatever this was again. I plan to be out on the town. I hear there are lots of hot, young bartenders in Miami.”
His look darkened. “Two night ago, you told me you didn’t want anyone else’s dick but mine.”
What was it with guys who rejected you, then played the spurned lover? I scowled. “Sometimes a woman will say anything to get laid.”
He raked his gaze up and down my body, revealing his longing for me again. “We were alreadyin flagrante delictoand you didn’t need to say anything.” He met my eyes and smiled, the smug SOB. “You wanted to say it, because you wanted me to know it.” He winked at me. “Have a good night, Cynth, doing whatever it is you decide to do.”
He slipped out the door before I could form words. I sputtered until coherence returned.
“Arrogant, fucking... The nerve... Like I really meant it.”
“Is this a private conversation?” Mai stepped into the doorway, and I realized Derek hadn’t even had the decency to properly close my door.
I took a deep breath and did my best imitation of a woman who wasn’t losing her marbles. I smiled. “Did you come to walk me to dinner?”
“Actually, I was just passing by and heard you talking. I thought you might need backup in here until I saw you alone.” She glanced around the room. “I’m guessing you weren’t earlier, though.”
I pasted on a smile and shooed her out the door. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
She fell into step beside me, and despite her undisguised looks of concern, she was a good enough partner not to ask what was wrong.
“Hey, Mai,” I said when we’d almost reached the main house, “remember what you said about spending some time with men who aren’t our co-workers?”
“I said fuck, not spend time with, but yes. I stand by that directive.”
“Good. How about tonight?”
She narrowed her eyes. “How aboutwhattonight?”
“Let’s find some men. Be each other’s wingwomen.”
“No.”
“Well, that was quick.” I stepped in front of her to block her access to the house. “Why not?”
“Because this”—she indicated all of me—“looks like a shit-storm ready to happen. You have self-destruct written all over you right now.”
“What?” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to collect my thoughts. When had both my partners—ex and current—become so damn good at reading me?
“Don’t worry,” she said, waving me away from the door. “I’ll tell everyone you’re still out of sorts from last night. But you need to chill for both our sakes.Please.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay, I’m chill.”
“Good.” She reached for the doorknob, then stopped and looked at me. “When you’re serious about fucking Wilder out of your system, I’m your wingwoman all the way. Until then, promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
I hated that I was so pathetically transparent about not being over him. “What stupid things could I possibly do?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Go rogue in the middle of a mission, over-tranq an ambassador’s attaché, get in X’s face after the fact.”
“You forgot ‘get a crewmate shot’.”
“Trust me, if I believed it was your fault Henderson got shot, that would have been first on my list.”
