Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,22
he liked you. And that decision would really have nothing to do with anything you say and just how you respond.”
“Sounds like a fun guy.”
“Walker is probably my favorite. I’d never tell the others that.”
My laughter is easy as I sit back in my chair again. The springs squeal as I tilt it backward. “Yeah, well, I don’t have a favorite because all my brothers are assholes.”
“Ha. Right. I don’t believe that.”
“You should because it’s true.” I shift in my seat and spot the credit card again. “So what are we going to do about your predicament?”
“What? Oh, the card.”
A smile parts my cheeks. “Yes, the card. Did you forget about that already?”
She balks. “No. Hardly. I have an order pending at a deli near here, and a stomach that’s threatening to swallow my intestines.”
“Sounds like a bigger problem than I realized.”
The sound of plastic being crinkled takes up the silence between us. Finally, she sighs.
“I was just calling to thank you for letting me know you have it,” she says. “I’m going to report it lost and have them overnight me a new one.”
My brow furrows. “Why would you do that?”
“Because it’s easier.”
I can’t stop the snort that comes out of my mouth. “That’s absolutely not easier, and you know it. The easier solution would be to meet me for lunch and get your card back.”
“Holt …”
There’s a wariness in her voice. She knows I’m right because she’s an intelligent, rational woman. I know she wants to see me again because I’m a smart, logical man. But how do I convince her to follow through?
If one thing is clear from spending time with Blaire last night, it’s that she likes to call the shots. She needs to be in the driver’s seat. I’m going to have to give her a map, hand over the steering wheel, and hope she picks the right exit.
“I’m going to be very frank with you,” I tell her.
“I hope you will.”
“I enjoyed spending time with you last night—both at Picante and after. And I was a little disappointed to wake up and not see you beside me.”
She doesn’t say a word.
“But I get it. Can’t say it’s ever happened to me before, but I kind of dig it,” I admit. “Like you said, it keeps the morning after very uncomplicated.”
“Until I go and lose my credit card.”
I grin. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been telling myself all day that you lost it because I had charmed you and made you lose your mind.”
“You just keep telling yourself that,” she says, making no effort to suppress her amusement.
“Ouch. Wounded ego alert,” I say as I laugh too.
“I’m sorry. Honestly? You were charming. You are charming. And I enjoyed my night with you as well.”
She takes a breath, and I use the opportunity to jump in.
“Then why did you leave?” I ask. “I’m usually the one doing the leaving, and now I’m curious.”
“Because you have things to do today and so do I—”
“You’re on vacation,” I interject.
“Don’t remind me.”
Despite the huff in her tone, I can hear her smile—which is a weird thing to be able to hear, but I can. Maybe it’s the subtle, quick breath or the way she ended the phrase with a softened lilt, but I can hear it. That makes me smile.
“Last night was a one-night stand,” she says. “They aren’t my favorite encounters—”
“There’s that word again.”
“But I’m not complaining about getting fucked this time.”
Hearing those words come out of her pretty little mouth sends a shot of adrenaline through my body.
“Let’s thank God for that,” I mumble as I adjust myself under my desk.
“As I was saying, they aren’t my favorite situations,” she says, emphasizing the word, “but they do serve a purpose. Lingering around makes it less of a one-night stand and more like a date that went on too long, and now both parties are uncomfortable.”
Fair enough.
“I left,” she continues, “to maintain the integrity of our arrangement.”
“I didn’t know we had a particular arrangement.”
“It wasn’t a signed and sealed contract, by any means. But there was definitely an unspoken agreement between us. Don’t you think?”
Do I?
Generally, I’d say yes. That sleeping with a woman you just met constitutes something light and simple. All I’m positive about, though, is that I feel like I’m about to get into a contract dispute. And while I’m a great negotiator, I might be out of my depths with her. So I ignore her point and switch gears.
“How long are