only briefly before averting her eyes.
Fuck.
What now?
“Vaughn?”
To what do I owe this surprise?
What the hell is wrong?
God, you’re fucking gorgeous.
All three thoughts run through my mind, but none of them are voiced as I step forward and press a kiss to her lips in greeting. I’d lose myself in her right now if I could, but her hands pressing against my chest tell me that sure as hell isn’t going to be happening.
“Hi.” She offers a tight smile and then skirts around me and into my office.
She’s all business. This is not good.
I shut the door behind me and then take a deep breath as I turn around to face her. Her back is to me. She’s looking out the windows like I’m prone to do, but hell if I look like her. The pencil skirt is a charcoal gray, and it highlights every damn curve of that body of hers. Ones I’ve run my hands and mouth over. Ones I’m desperate for again.
Her pale-pink sweater is soft and off the shoulders, and her hair cascades in waves down her back.
I stare at her for a moment longer, partially because I’m enjoying the view and partially because I’m putting off hearing whatever it is that was so important she showed up at my office for.
“Vaughn?” I ask again. My oxfords on the floor moving toward her are the only other sound in my office.
She turns to face me, and her eyes tell me everything I’d feared. “I can’t do this again with you.”
“Do what again? Talk with me? Be with me? Do what with me?” I demand, my mood going from cautious to defiant in a matter of seconds.
“No matter what seems to happen between us . . .”
“What?” I reach out to touch her and get pissed when she steps away so I can’t. “We have a good time? We enjoy each other’s company? What the fuck am I missing here, Vaughn?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head, eyes wild with emotion I can’t decipher. “We just . . . we’re not good for each other.”
“That’s total bullshit and you know it.” But there’s something about her—the way she’s keeping her distance, the stiffness to her body, her refusal to meet my eyes—that tells me she’s goddamn serious. I turn on my heel and walk away from her, hand running through my hair and a disbelieving laugh falling from my mouth. I need alcohol in here. A whole goddamn fifth of it, to be exact. What the actual fuck? “Ah, it all makes sense now.”
“What does?” At least for once there’s confusion in her voice.
“You showing up here at my work.” I turn back to face her. “Let me guess, you figured I’d have to be professional and not make a scene when you walked in here and told me we’re over.”
“We never really were together to begin with.”
Every part of my body tenses at her crap answer. “And you’re lying through your teeth.” I take a step back toward her. “You think I’m not going to cause a scene because this is my office? You think I’m just going to let you walk away without a fucking fight? News flash, Vaughn . . . I fought too damn hard to get you, then to win you back after I fucked up, so no, I refuse to listen to you tell me otherwise. I told you to take whatever time it is you need. Two days isn’t nearly enough unless you already knew we were over before you walked out of my place. So tell me you need more time. Tell me you’re still confused and angry at me, and I’ll believe it. But say we’re over again, and I’ll let everyone on this floor know what I think—loud and crystal fucking clear.”
“Ryker . . . please . . . just let me go.” But this time when she speaks there is something in her voice that catches my ear. The same thing that has me looking a little bit closer, regardless of how much my chest constricts in doing so, and I notice the tears welling in her eyes and the tremble of her bottom lip.
A chink in her damn armor. She doesn’t want to tell me we’re over any more than I want to believe her.
“What the fuck is going on here? You’re hiding something from me.”
“No. I’m not. This just can’t be.” She starts to skirt around me, and it takes everything I have not to reach out