Asking For It - Allyson Lindt Page 0,18

all of this, then that’s fine. But you’re not an idiot. Do you have this under control, or do you want me to yank you out of it?”

I appreciated having the options. “I’ve got it under control.” And the more times I told myself that, the truer it would be.

Chapter Nine

Leaving the restaurant before everyone else didn’t help me when I got home; I tossed and turned most of the night.

When my doorbell rang in the morning, I was on round five billion of what the hell am I doing? The question hadn’t stopped me from stuffing a swimsuit, towel, and change of clothes—none of which I intended to need—into an oversized bag, along with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, to go with brunch, or just picnic-style drinking in general.

I answered the door to find Kingston kneeling on the front step, head bowed.

He didn’t look up. “I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive?”

Was I more embarrassed for him or me? I was at least a little curious if he could see up my denim skirt. “Please get up.”

“I’d make a joke about being up just because you’re here, but no erection humor until you forgive me.” He stood, putting him a few inches above eye level instead of tantalizingly below.

“Where’s your other half?” I wasn’t getting dragged into fun with him. No witty banter. No teasing.

Kingston patted his legs and chest, his back and front, and his left and right shoulder. “All of me is here.”

“I meant Owen.”

“Ah. He’s in the car. Said watching me humiliate myself in front of you once fills out his lifetime quota.”

I wasn’t going to forgive him just because he was goofy and cute. “Anyone can grovel.”

“But how many people do so willingly?”

I pursed my lips and stared at him.

“I’m sorry about the other day. Sincerely and honestly.” His serious tone replaced the playfulness, and he held my gaze. “It may surprise you to hear this, but I don’t always read a room right, and sometimes my jokes fall flat.”

“If that’s your idea of a joke... Has it ever in your life been appropriate to fuck someone and then tease them about it being for business?”

He shrugged, and pulled off sheepish with flair. “It’s never come up before. You’re unique in a lot of ways. Forgive me.”

“Are you going to give up on trying to make the deal?”

“No.”

The honesty was refreshing. I didn’t like his answer, but I wouldn’t have believed him if he said anything else.

“And fair warning in that same vein,” Kingston said. “I’m hoping if you spend time with us, you’ll see what a good idea this partnership is.”

“What you’re proposing isn’t a partnership.” It was pretending to let me stay on in a management position until they didn’t like my feedback. I would only have the power they assigned me, that they could take away just as easily.

“Semantics. But I swear to you, cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye swear to you, sex is not part of that equation. Anything physical is its own separate thing.”

He wasn’t talking past tense. But he was still being honest.

“In that case, I should be up front and say the only reason I’m going with you today is because”—someone’s fucking with my zoning... I wasn’t going to tell him that, in case he decided to use it as leverage—“you’re right that it’s good to make connections.”

Kingston offered his arm. “That’s fair. Shall we?”

My body wanted that contact again. That heat I felt every time he touched me. My heart and mind knew better. I Ignored his arm and fell into step beside him as we walked to the SUV waiting at the curb.

Owen smiled as we drew closer, and offered a cheerful “Morning,” when we were within earshot.

“Morning.” I tried to keep my tone and expression cool, but my smile was as genuine as it was hesitant.

Kingston held open the front passenger door for me.

“I’m fine in the back,” I said.

“Take the seat.” Kingston gestured. “He and I see each other all the time. If you’re up here, it’ll be harder for you to pretend you’re not part of the conversation.”

Called out on an intention I hadn’t vocalized to myself. “Fine. Thank you.”

We settled into our seats and hit the road. This early on a Sunday, there was no traffic, and we were on the freeway heading east in less than ten minutes.

“Are the two of you from Las Vegas originally?” I asked. It was where they opened their first