Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,8

to work out talking was the last thing on his mind.

“Well, I don’t really have time for a chat. But if you’re willing to pull out your wallet and buy a drink or two, I’m sure Raelle will gladly keep you company.” I did my best to force a smile.

My terrible suggestion served a dual purpose. One, to see if he’d happily go back to flirting with my attractive bartender, who he may or may not attempt to sleep with. It was a free country and all of that, and she didn’t come with complications. And two, to test if the idea would make me jealous.

Technically, it wasn’t a fair bet.

Raelle would flirt and talk to anyone—man, woman, hyena—she didn’t discriminate. As long as you kept the orders coming and weren’t a shitty tipper, you’d have her undivided sexy attention.

But she didn’t sleep with customers, something Jared had probably yet to find out.

It was her one rule, refusing to budge even when she really wanted to. It was something we both agreed on, refusing to accept the stereotype that the only way we’d succeed was by using what was in-between our legs. Ha, ironic that what was between our ears was so much more dangerous, which meant my suggestion to Jared was more of a set up. Not that I’d ever admit that, tempering my reaction while I waited for his response.

His eyes dipped, following the curves of my body before landing back on my face. “I didn’t come here to talk to Raelle.”

Ignoring how stupidly pleased it made me to hear those words, my lips pressed into a firm grin. “Then you better go. If you’re still wanting that chat later, give me a call. If not, I’ll see you around.”

I tried not to smile, my lips betraying me a little as they lifted at the edges. I was not going to lay my cards on the table when I had no idea what was going through Leighton’s mind. And considering I should have already been gone, I didn’t have the time for it either.

The VIP section, and whatever Big Shot needing my attention, still required my presence, which was why I pushed the memory of that kiss and his hands to the side and nodded to the door. I wasn’t going to ask again, my directive that he needed to leave no longer just a suggestion.

I was going to need a minute. If for nothing else to freshen my makeup so I didn’t look like I’d been making out like a teenager.

He swallowed whatever words he was thinking of sharing, leaving them unspoken as he headed toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, hesitating before turning. “I’ll wait around and give you a ride home.”

They were the same words he’d said to me only twenty-four hours earlier. But unlike the last time, I was sure how that ride would end.

Him.

Me.

Panting against hot skin as we tangled between my sheets.

And even though there was a chance I’d be waking up to an empty bed and another of those I’m sorry texts, I still wanted it.

“Thanks, but I’ve got a ride.” I cursed under my breath, depriving myself because clearly I enjoyed torturing us both, and I had some sick need to prove a point. And I’ll be honest, when it came to proving a point, I was more stubborn than most. Probably why I stayed with Lewis for so long, putting up with a dead-end relationship when my family had warned me he was a loser with no future.

For a smart woman, I made poor choices when it came to men, hating I got blinded by good looks and an insane attraction to a bad boy. Not that I’d seem to realize that at the start, my stupid hormones running the show instead of my head. I’d hated that they’d been right about him, but more so, that I’d waited so long to kick him to the curb.

Poor impulse control was definitely a family trait.

“Do you really have a ride?” Leighton asked, tilting his head like he didn’t believe me. Or maybe he could read my mind, more perceptive than I gave him credit for, not leaving like I asked.

“Yes, I do.” Without explaining who, I yanked his arm toward the door.

It would have been more satisfying to turn on my heel and leave him watching me walk away. I had that perfect hip sway locked down. But unfortunately for me—and my hip sway—I didn’t