Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,191

I fill the blank space with small talk. “So what brings you to Vegas?”

“My two best friends and I worked together for years for someone else. The three of us finally decided to work for ourselves.”

“What do you do?”

“We’re a tech company specializing in predictive analytics.”

“I know that much from Google. What does that mean?”

He chuckles. “Basically, we mine data and use statistics to predict trends. Our main focus is cybersecurity, but we’re in the process of acquiring several consultants with different areas of expertise.”

“You know how to do all that?”

He shrugs and grins. I ignore the little flutters in my belly as my eyes dart to his cocky smile.

“I don’t know how to do all that,” he admits. “But I know how to run a business.”

“So you’re the business guy?”

He nods. “My two friends are the IT developer and the creative visionary.”

“Sounds like a good team.”

“We like to think so.” He runs his fingers over the rim of his water glass, his eyes following the movement.

“Where did you move from?”

His eyes fall back on mine. “Chicago.”

“Why Vegas?” I’m asking too many questions, but I suddenly feel like I want to know everything about him.

He lifts a shoulder. “The excitement. The weather. The relative proximity to California. Plus it’s got the convention center and it’s a hub for all sorts of businesses.”

“The little glimpse I saw of your facility yesterday was nice.”

His fingers run along his water glass again, and my eyes dart down to them. A flash of what he could do to me with those fingers runs through my mind, and my cheeks heat. I force the thought away to focus on what he’s saying.

“Our space turned out to be pretty incredible. I’ve got a corner office with an unparalleled view, plus my two best friends work on either side of me.”

“And your secretary.”

“Kelsey’s great.”

“She’s gorgeous.” I’m playing with fire.

He shrugs. “Hadn’t noticed.”

He doesn’t even crack a smile when he says it, so I’m inclined to believe him, but he is a man and he does have eyes…not that it matters. I’m certainly not jealous of her or anything. I have no reason to be.

Our bottle of wine arrives.

“How long have you been teaching?” he asks once we’ve toasted to getting to know each other.

“Five years. I moved out here from Phoenix to attend UNLV and stayed after graduation.”

“I love Phoenix.”

I fiddle with the stem of my wine glass. “My parents and sister are still there.”

“But you’re here?”

“Sometimes the independence is nice.” I chuckle. “And my best friend moved out here with me.”

“She’s still here, too?”

“Yeah. We live together.”

We both hear his cell phone’s notification sound off in his pocket, but he ignores it. “Is your sister your only sibling?”

I nod. “Do you have any?”

“A sister and a brother.” He glances away for a flash of a second before his eyes return to mine. “Both older.”

We’re quiet for a few beats. I take an awkward sip of wine. It’s going well, this non-date of ours, but it’s still all that getting to know you chatter. He asks, “When are you out for the summer?”

“Today. I turned in my keys this morning.”

“Well,” he says, raising his glass, “let me be the first to say congratulations on another year in the books.”

I clink my glass against his. “Thank you.”

“What do you do over the summer?”

I lift a shoulder. “Sometimes I teach summer school. Not this year, though.”

“Man, I wish I had teachers that looked like you when I was in school.”

I giggle and pick up my wineglass—mostly to hide behind it. “Stop.” I take a sip.

“I’m serious. I went to a private school with all these stuffy old men as my teachers. I’d be staring all day if someone like you was at the front of the room.”

“Well it’s not like I wear this dress to school,” I mumble.

“Thank God for that. I don’t want some underage boy ogling you when it should be me.”

When it should be me? Is he serious?

“Wait a minute.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“Who said it’s a date?”

“You’re sitting over there getting awfully flirtatious for someone who’s not on a date.”

He holds up his hands innocently. “Hey, you’re the one who showed up looking like that. How am I supposed to sit over here and pretend I’m not attracted to you?”

I giggle as heat burns my cheeks. I take another sip of wine because surely that’ll help.

“Do you realize every time you get embarrassed, you take a drink?”

I