Twisted Love (Modern Romance #3) - Piper Lawson Page 0,34

way her gaze softens in surprise and hope, I don’t want to take them back.

I want her to ask me for things.

I want her to know I’ll give them to her.

“Okay,” she replies at last. “Not for the rest of the month.”

“Thank you,” I say, the relief coming at last. I clear my throat. “I brought donuts.”

“We wouldn’t be talking if you hadn’t.” Her easy deadpan has me grinning, and she smiles in return.

My attention lingers on her lips, remembering how they felt beneath mine for a beat too long.

“What’s with the bags?" I ask, noticing the suitcase by her bed.

“Next weekend is the Vineyard for Camila and Aiden. I’m deciding what to take for the trip.” She goes to the dresser and opens the top drawer, pulling out a stack of lace. “I told Vane you’re buried in work and can’t come."

I can’t look away from the lingerie she sets on the bed—a stack of bras and panties—and now I’m wondering how many donuts it’d cost me for a fashion show right here.

“So what’s this dinner of Xavier’s Wednesday?” Her words drag me back.

I groan. “Perfectly cooked prime rib accompanied by hours of social posturing and backstabbing. As much as he wants everyone to get along at the end of the day, he likes the competition to get there.”

“That sounds terrible.”

I shrug. “Actually, I’ve had dinner at his place. His chef is solid.”

“That’s not what I meant. If he wants to get to know your wives and girlfriends, and contrast you and Holt in a new atmosphere, there are much more engaging ways to do it.”

Curiosity has me leaning in. “If you have an alternative suggestion, I’m sure Xavier would be open to it.”

10

Holt grunts as he straps himself into his harness. “Whose idea was rock climbing?”

“Mine.” Daisy smiles innocently from a few feet away, tugging her shiny hair into a ponytail.

Xavier was only too happy to change the venue from yet another dinner party when I suggested it, especially when I reminded him we’ve all been spending too much time in suits and could use the workout. So he rented out an entire climbing gym for the six of us at the end of the afternoon.

Wicked delight surges through me at Holt’s discomfort, but as I watch Daisy get ready, I appreciate that Holt may not be the not the only one at a disadvantage in this challenge. My gaze lingers on her legs, curvy under the tight, cropped black pants, and the strip of skin exposed as her tank rides up.

She looks good in workout gear.

She looks good in everything.

“Who’s going first?” I ask, forcing my attention to the wall.

“Perhaps the ladies should start,” Xavier suggests, looking pleased by the prospect of trying something new.

His wife, a fit woman a few years younger, looks equally enthused.

“Good idea. Save the competition for after.” I cut a look at Holt.

“Oh, no,” Daisy intervenes. “The competition starts now. Because we”—she exchanges a look with the other women—“are going to crush you.”

Daisy sets her phone in my hand, the timer app open.

“I hope I can trust you not to cheat,” she murmurs.

I stare in fascination, trying to figure out her game.

My best friend is a lot of things, but uber-competitive isn’t one of them. That’s my domain. Most of the time, she’d rather make people feel comfortable than on edge.

“First one to that point—male or female—wins for their team.” She nods toward a marker forty feet up. “Deal?”

I exchange a look with the other two men. “Fine.”

She starts to turn and I catch her wrist, tugging her back. I can’t resist rubbing my thumb across her skin until her eyes darken. “What are the stakes?”

“Loser buys dinner. After we’ve had time to clean up.” She names one of the hottest new restaurants, and my eyebrows lift.

“We won’t get in there on short notice.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already made the reservation.”

The staff at the facility take care of belaying duties since most of us haven’t climbed before.

Which means I get to watch her ascend.

She’s always liked climbing as a stress-relief activity, but now I’m appreciating it as a workout. The cropped black stretchy pants hug the curve of her ass. The fitted white top with straps crossing at the back makes me want to trace the pattern with a finger, slip it underneath to see if she’s sweating or if this is just one more thing she handles as if it’s nothing.

The women start off, Daisy moving easily at first, still finding time