to bring the car around. A typical summer’s night in Austin. The setting of the sun has yet to cool the still evening air, even as it approaches 11:30 P.M.
“Sierra, if I were not okay, we’d be in the back seat of a cab right now.”
“We’d?” I’m surprised.
Laughing, “Yes, we’d. Because first we’d be dropping you off in Travis Heights and I’d be walking you safely to your door. And then the cab would be taking me home.”
“Wow, you’ve almost got me believing you’re a gentleman.”
“I do have manners. I just don’t always display them. As you’ve already witnessed.”
“Where do you live?” I’m dying to know.
“In The Austonian,” he’s somehow surprised that I don’t know he has a residence in the skyscraper where he’s got the executive office space, where my office is when I’m working on SpaceCloud business. “The other half of the floor is my apartment.”
Wow. I’m suddenly uncomfortable at how close I’ve unknowingly been to his bed. And now that I know, well, that adds another level of distraction. I’m going to have to keep myself from fantasizing about nooners.
The valet pulls up with the Lotus. “Sweet ride,” the kid excitedly says to Hale.
“Need help getting in?” The smirk on his face shows how much fun he is having fucking with me.
“Maybe that should be my question to you,” I shoot back without missing a beat.
His laugh is hearty, “Baby, I never have problems getting in.” And he folds his long, muscular frame into the car with the ease of a mountain lion.
Me and my smart ass mouth. I am never going to make it to TFV1 without ‘shitting where I eat’, if this keeps up. I can’t let that happen. There’s so much on the line. Kemp’s promotion is imminent. I cannot throw it all away now. No matter how overwhelmingly attracted I am to this man.
The physical space in the cockpit of this tiny car is my enemy right now. We are so close together, that with every turn my knee brushes his hand on the stick shift and there’s nowhere for me to move away. I hate that part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and turn my back on everything I know to be true. I hate it. And what I really loathe is my fear that I’m going to lose this battle at the most critical juncture of my career.
We cross the Colorado River and turn left on Riverside Drive. It’ll only be five more minutes in this car with him until we are pulling up in front of my house. Conflicted? That’s a freaking understatement. I want my personal space back, but I fear the emptiness when he retreats. The last twenty-four hours have been overwhelming and confusing. Is there a right or a wrong? I ask myself. And is he worth the risk or will he be the biggest colossal mistake of my life?
I don’t know that I can risk that.
Pulling into my driveway behind my car, Hale cuts the roaring engine. Immediately, he opens his door and I’m relieved as he vacates my space. He’s around the tiny car in a nanosecond, opening my side and offering me a hand to help me out. Biting my tongue, I hold back making a smart ass comment.
Instead of letting my hand go, he threads his fingers through mine as he sees me to my door, as promised. We are so fucked. Or maybe it’s just me that’s so fucked as my hand remains nestled and lost in his.
Letting go, he raises his finger to the top of my cleavage, touching it. “No mermaid. I like the mermaid. Why aren’t you wearing my chain?”
“Because I fear I’ll get tangled up in your chains.” And with that simple admission, Hale Lundström finally got the truth he was hoping the third Manhattan would bring.
The scent of eucalyptus and the fragrance of brightly colored perennials, mingled with hibiscus and bougainvillea crowd my senses, pushing forth memories of past stays here at the Beverly Hills Hotel. I didn’t even realize I had these memory imprints, but the perfumed onslaught has deposited them at the forefront of my brain. I wonder if the memory imprint will change after this trip. Will smelling this medley of scents now forever be associated with Sierra Stone?
The schedule doesn’t begin until tomorrow morning with breakfast in their President’s bungalow. It appears that I am the only out-of-town client and therefore, the only one spending the night at the