Arrogant Bastard - Jennifer Dawson Page 0,34

can’t help looking down at her.

“Caden.” Her voice is cool, and she doesn’t meet my eyes.

“Cat.” I grip my beer tighter.

Cat shifts her attention to Jackson and Gwen. “I didn’t know you guys were coming tonight.”

Gwen tilts her head. “Last-minute decision.”

Cat waves at the bar. “Can you grab my beer?”

Gwen reaches behind her and hands the bottle to Cat. “I got us a seat in the back corner. “You ready?”

Cat glances swiftly at me, a frown on her lips. “Umm… I was thinking of calling it a night.”

Gwen shakes her head. “No, you can’t go home yet. We’re just getting started.”

Another furtive glance. “I’ve got an early morning.”

“Oh, come on. One drink.” Gwen holds her hands together in prayer. “Pretty please?”

Jackson gives his sister a sly grin. “One drink. What’s the worst that can happen?”

My mind flashes to the last bar Cat and I were in, how one drink turned into many, which turned into Cat fucking herself on my fingers. So, yeah, I know what can happen.

Her forehead wrinkles.

Before I can stop myself, I say, “What is the worst that can happen?”

What can I say? I can’t be perfect all the time.

She glares at me. “Fine.”

And just like that, we’re in a U-shaped booth in the back. Gwen and Jackson are pressed up against each other, but Cat and I keep a respectable distance.

Jackson, his arm stretched over the back of the booth behind Gwen, says, “I need you two to do a dry run of the menu before the private event coming up.”

Even though Cat’s not touching me, I can feel the tension seeping from her.

I get an image of her and me sitting in the restaurant at an empty table, candlelight flickering over her skin. Doesn’t seem like a good idea, but the guy is my boss. Since I know my weaknesses, I can at least try to excuse myself. “I know next to nothing about fine dining.”

Jackson shrugs. “Do you know what tastes good and what doesn’t?”

“In theory.”

He laughs. “So you guys come sit down and let us serve you.”

Next to me Cat shifts. “Who else are you going to invite?”

“Just us,” Gwen says, moving closer to Jackson so they’re practically plastered together. “We trust you to be honest in your critique.”

Sounds awful cozy. A little too close for comfort. A little too tempting. I try again. “Maybe someone who knows more about this stuff should do it.”

Cat stiffens, her legs moving away from me. “Gabe will do it.”

“I’ll do what?” I look over to see Gabe with a cute redhead standing next to him.

Now it’s my turn to tense.

Cat pushes her hair from her cheek. “Sit down with me and go over the tasting menu for Gwen and Jackson.”

“Not necessary.” The words are out of my mouth before I can even think to push them back in. “I’ll take care of it.”

Gabe shrugs and points to Cat. “Move over, Kit-Cat.”

Cat sighs, and then she’s close enough that I can smell her clean scent. It wafts up, hitting me full in the face as her hair brushes my arm, and I go a little dizzy.

She frowns at me. “Sorry.”

I shrug. “No worries.”

Gabe and the redhead pile into the booth, making for very close quarters. I could move a bit, but I don’t, because I’m a fucking idiot.

Gabe introduces the woman next to him as Mandy, but before we can engage them in conversation, they immediately start talking. Their flirtation is in full swing.

Gwen smiles at Cat and me. “It’s settled then. Next Friday. Seven o’clock. At the restaurant.”

“Looking forward to it,” I lie. Not that eating a meal prepared by two top chefs isn’t something I’ll enjoy, but an intimate evening with Cat sounds a little like playing with fire.

“Be brutal,” Gwen says.

“Always,” Cat responds as she shifts away from me.

Jackson whispers something in Gwen’s ear, and she turns to him. Then the two couples are deep in conversation, leaving a tension-filled silence for Cat and me.

She plays with her bottle of beer, and I remember last week, when the two of us were easy together—the attraction between us present but unspoken.

She glances at me, her eyes unsure, and when she speaks, her voice is low and soft. “I can get someone else. You don’t have to be forced to eat with me.”

She bites her lower lip, and I track the movement. For a second I get lost in the kiss we shared in the office—the press of her lips against mine, the feel of her

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