Page 5 of Adoring Alejandro

Screw this!

Rising to her feet, Maeve smoothed her shaking hands down her boxy, beige skirt, and straightened her shoulders. Putting one foot in front of the other, she moved toward the door, praying the two men would ignore her as she slipped passed them and down the hallway to the bathroom…where she could puke in private.

Right before she could make a break for it, AJ’s phone rang. Shoving the box of cookies under one arm, he used his other hand to retrieve his cell from the back pocket of his well-worn, ass hugging jeans.

Lord, to be that phone….

AJ peered down at the display and grunted, rolling his eyes.

“What?” Blaze asked, just as curious as Maeve about who called.

AJ grunted again, silencing the phone, and shoving it in his front pocket this time.

“That IT chick from White,” AJ answered.

“Denise Walters?” Blaze asked, his eyebrows shooting north. “What’s she calling you about?”

AJ sighed, pushing his long, fingers through the already mussed, dark brown locks. Sheared on the sides and left longer on the top, the dark curls made him look both sexy and adorable at the same time. What she would give just to feel the softness of his hair shifting between her fingers.

“She’s been calling and texting like crazy the last two weeks.”

“Why? You hit that?” Maeve cringed at Blaze’s inquiry, wanting to know, and not wanting to know. It was a diabolical conundrum. Maeve wasn’t an idiot, she knew AJ was a sexually active, red-blooded, American male, that with his looks, charm, and alpha tendencies, he was a goddamn catch. She also knew he was one of the sweetest, most thoughtful, and most compassionate man she’d ever known. Not that he showed that side of himself to anyone but his closet friends. She just wished she could be counted among them…out in the open.

She also wished he could be all hers. She didn’t want to share him with any other woman, especially women like Denise Walters.

“Definitely haven’t touched that. We met up when I was Miami last month to deal with the Hanger’s Cove documents Sly was adamant needed to be completed that week, in Miami, with that group of ass kissers. Denise was there, chatted me up, invited me out. I took a raincheck. Since then, though, she’s been blowing me up, texting about getting together when I’m back in Miami—and she even mentioned driving here to spend the weekend.”

“The fuck?” Blaze barked, dropping his arms to tense up. “Like, she invited herself to spend the weekend with you?”

“Yup.”

Maeve’s gaze bounced from one man to the other, the urge to vomit slowly receding—until AJ’s gaze landed on her…where she was standing…in the doorway…obviously eavesdropping on their conversation.

Ah, damn! What the hell is wrong with me?All she had to do was slip by them and go about her business. Instead, she’d gotten caught up in their back and forth, forgetting that she wasn’t actually invisible.

“Maeve?” AJ said, his brow furrowing. “Where’d you come from?”

Ignoring the sharp jab in her chest at his question—because he obviously hadn’t even considered she’d be there, in her own office—she mentally answered.

My mother. Venus. The dimension where they birth awkward nobodies from green pods.

“You are having a full-on conversation right in front of my office,” she replied instead, grateful that her voice was steady and as neutral as she could make it while her heart was thundering in her throat. “I couldn’t help but overhear. It wasn’t like you two were whispering, either.”

AJ grinned, his perfect smile transforming the furrow in his brow into a look of sheepish humor.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry ‘bout that. Hey, you want a cookie? They’re the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.” The man wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a playful smirk on his face.

Blaze choked on a laugh, and Maeve could feel heat rise into her cheeks.

I bet I have something better for you to eat. Shit, her inner vixen was a filthy bitch!

Simultaneous images popped into her head. AJ eating her cookies while moaning about how good they tasted, and AJ eating her “cookies” while she was moaning about how good he was with his tongue.

Even greater heat bloomed in her core, spreading out over her sensitive flesh to burn her thoughts to ash.

Mumbling something about needing to poop—yes! She said poop!—she hurried past the men standing there staring at her with shocked expressions, and banged the employee’s bathroom door shut behind her.

Face on fire, heart pounding, shame coursing through her, Maeve sat on the closed toilet, bent over her knees, and begged for the floor to open up and swallow her.

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