The Rivals - Vi Keeland Page 0,26
anyone else at this point?”
“Maybe if you paid a little more attention to what was going on around you, instead of checking out the contractor’s son, you’d be in the same mindset as I am.”
My eyes widened. “You’ve got to be joking!”
He shrugged. “Lust is blind.”
“Obviously! Why else would I have slept with you!”
Weston’s eyes darkened, his pupils blocking out most of the soft blue color of his irises. I could feel my face heat with anger, and… Oh my God, my damn belly did a little flutter.
Is my body insane?
It had to be. A sheen of cold sweat broke out on my forehead, and my body started to light up like a Christmas tree.
What the hell?
Seriously?
No. Just no.
As my head reeled from my body’s crazy response, Weston’s eyes dropped to my chest. I was mortified to find my nipples protruding. The traitors were standing at full attention, saluting this asshole through my blouse. I folded my arms across my chest, but it was too late. My eyes lifted to find a giant, wicked smirk on Weston’s face.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and counted to ten. When I opened them, Weston was still sporting a smug smirk, but his brows were pinched together, and his forehead was wrinkled.
“If you were hoping I’d disappear, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said.
I know I’m not that lucky had been on the tip of my tongue. But instead, I plastered on a sparkling smile.
Well, I was going for sparkling, but the look on Weston’s face told me it came out more maniacal Joker than anything. Yet I rolled with it.
Speaking through my teeth, I said, “Why would I want you to disappear? You’re so helpful. I look forward to meeting with your contractor.”
Since I wasn’t sure how much more I could take without losing it, I turned on my heel and walked toward the door. Without looking back, I said, “Have a good afternoon, Weston.”
He yelled after me, “I will. And don’t forget dinner tonight, Fifi.”
Chapter 8
* * *
Sophia
I arrived at Le Maison fifteen minutes late on purpose.
Weston stood as I approached the table. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”
I took my seat and folded a napkin across my lap. “I said I would, so I’m here. Though, why couldn’t we just have dinner in one of the restaurants at The Countess?”
“This one has dancing. I thought you might enjoy feeling my body pressed up against yours when we’re in public. I mean, we know how much you like it in private.”
“I’m not dancing with you.”
Instead of my refusal annoying him, Weston flashed his million-dollar smile. He really had a fantastic smile…which was irritating beyond belief. But I was hellbent on maintaining my composure this evening.
A waiter came over and asked if we’d like to see the wine menu. I took it and gave it a quick once-over, but decided rather than having hundreds of calories of wine to relax, I’d nurse one low-cal drink instead. I handed my menu back to the waiter. “I’ll have a vodka and cranberry with lime, please. If you have diet cranberry, that would be even better.”
“I’m sorry, we don’t have diet. Would you like regular?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
The waiter nodded and turned to Weston. “And for you, sir?”
“I’ll take a Diet Coke, please.”
This was the third time we’d been together and I’d ordered an alcoholic drink, yet Weston hadn’t. I considered questioning it, but thought that might just shine a light on my drinking on a weeknight, so I kept my mouth shut.
After the waiter disappeared, Weston looked me over. “Don’t forget about number two of our deal.”
It took me a few seconds to recall what the terms of our dumb deal even were. We’d agreed to me calling him Weston, dinner once a week, and me…wearing my hair up twice a week.
“Why do you care how I wear my hair, anyway?”
“Because I like to look at the skin on your neck. It’s creamy.”
I opened my mouth to respond, then shut it. His comment seemed sincere. I knew how to fight with this man. I knew how to discuss business with him, even civilly. But I had no idea how to take a compliment when he was being nice.
“Don’t say things like that,” I finally grumbled.
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.”
Since business was a safe topic of conversation, I folded my hands on top of the table. “I made an appointment for a second contractor to come tomorrow at nine AM.”
“I have Brighton