Conflict of Interest - By Allyson Lindt Page 0,33
want to be disappointed even further.
He looked in the direction she was nodding. “Twins, huh? That’s hot.”
She resisted the urge to slap her forehead. Nope, he’d said it. Why the hell did guys think sisters making out was sexy? “Not so much.” She slid off her stool. “I need to be somewhere else.”
“Wait.” His cold palm against her arm made her skin recoil. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous, you know? Beautiful woman, so I’m trying to play it cool.”
“Yeah, probably a mistake.” She sat anyway. “How about you being you? I like guys who are themselves.” Like Scott. The name echoed in her skull, and she pushed it away. Scott was a child playing the part she told him to. And not even willingly or well. Except for that suit he’d worn to dinner… No that was a bad path to go down. That was business, this was fun.
“I can do honesty. How about this? I’m really not into the random strangers or doing the one-night-stand thing, so I’m trying to pretend I’ll be okay if you don’t call me in the morning, but I’d really like to get to know you better.”
He wanted something long-term, how sweet. She kept her smile pasted in place. Maybe if she pretended to enjoy the conversation, she’d start to believe it was true. He was attractive. He’d hold up to professional scrutiny; she could do the same for him. And then she’d have an excuse to turn Scott down. Not that she needed an excuse. It wasn’t like she couldn’t control herself around him.
She realized he was watching her. Crap, had he said something? He must have, he was waiting for a response. “Beg your pardon?”
He pushed his drink away and stepped from his stool, offering his arm. “It’s a little loud here. Do you want to go somewhere else so we can talk?”
“That sounds nice.” She slipped her hand into his arm, searching for the familiar rush of meeting someone new. It wasn’t there. She was probably still too wired from dinner. She fell into step beside him as he led her outside. The night air and silence rushed in around them, and for a moment she thought she’d gone deaf.
She hesitated.
He looked at her, curious. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m sorry.” She dropped her hand, letting it hang limply by her side. “I…” She trailed off. What was wrong with her? “I can’t after all. Have a wonderful night.”
She turned toward the parking lot without waiting for a response. She pulled out her phone while she walked and sent her sister a quick message. She didn’t want to ruin Riley’s night too. I have to bail, I’m sorry. Call a cab. I’ll pay you back for it.
Chapter 10
Morning sun warmed Scott’s back as it crested the mountains outside. It crept through the bay window behind him, permeating the shades meant to keep light out but still let people see through the large windows. He stared at the donut in front of him as people chattered in the crowded coffee shop. The wooden chair was one of the few in the eclectic dining area with no padding, but he barely noticed the hard seat against his back.
Every time he thought back to the night before, his blood pressure spiked. He didn’t know if he was more upset with Hank, or with Zach for having the balls to ask Kenzie to stay on. No, he did know. He still wanted to hop the next plane to LA to grind Cartee into a bloody pulp. But this whole publicity facade was a freaking joke. He didn’t even know why he was pretending anymore.
He pushed his donut and coffee aside and pulled out his PSP. He should be game testing. Right. Getting some work done would take his mind off things. He waited for the load screen and clicked into his latest save file. He needed to know if the physics were working on this level, whether or not the game play was too complicated this early on, if the means to defeat the end-level boss were clear without being too obvious…
If he should call Kenzie and apologize, if he should find a way to kick Cartee off the board…
A sniper’s bullet tore through his character, and his screen splattered red. He snarled at the device and set it aside with a sigh. That was only about the twentieth time that had happened in the last half hour. Probably not a good sign.
The jangle of the