His eyes dart to the side then back to me. “In a manner of speaking.” When I wait for further explanation, he continues, his smile reaching his dark eyes, “I um…” he moves his index finger in a circle, “this is my building.”
I choke, breaking composure. “What do you mean, this is your building? As in, you live here, too?” While this is a beautiful apartment building, I always imaged Kane Alexander living somewhere way more grandiose.
He laughs lightly and it does things to me, things which aren’t completely unwelcome. “As in, I own this building.”
Of course, he does.
Overwhelmed and slightly intimidated, I want to shrink away but can’t unless I fancy jumping off the balcony and landing on the roof of his Lamborghini.
What the fuck have I done?
What. The. Fuck.
“Shit…” is all I manage. “Because, of course, you would own a high-rise building. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
He laughs and it’s the sexiest, thigh-clenching sound I’ve heard in a very long time.
Kane pulls his hand from behind his back revealing a bottle of champagne. “For you,” he says, handing me a bottle of Dom Perignon. “Consider it a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.” He pauses a moment, eyes penetrating mine, tongue moistening his lips. “Perhaps you and Shawn can enjoy it later tonight.”
My blood runs cold. I suppose this is the first of many occasions I’ll be announcing our separation. Not that it’s anyone’s business. “Or just me,” I reply with a nervous laugh. “Shawn isn’t moving in.”
Kane raises his brows for a fleeting moment, and I see a glimpse of something I don’t recognize, before he chooses his words carefully. “I’m sorry to hear that, Blythe.” While his tone sounds sincere, his eyes tell a different story.
“Are you?” I challenge.
“Of course. A strong woman like you needs a strong man next to her… or behind her… depending on your preference.” There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes, and heat blushes my cheeks at the thought of Kane Alexander behind me in the throes of action.
“I know I certainly don’t mind a woman in front of me.”
Oh, sweet Jesus.
“I’m sure you have plenty of women wanting to be in that… position.”
“Plenty doesn’t equal quality, Blythe.”
Kane’s smile is disarming. He’s getting to me and he knows it.
“Are we still talking about in life, or… other things?”
“Both, but I know my prerogative.”
“Ma’am,” an unfamiliar voice calls, breaking the spell. “Where do you want these?”
Reluctantly, I turn to the removalist standing in the living room holding two boxes, his face red and beading with sweat.
“Um… just… anywhere… just there is fine,” I stammer, still feeling Kane’s intensity. He chuckles, amused at how his words have affected me. With a huff, the removalist lowers the boxes to the floor and leaves for his next load. Kane steps backward to the door, his gaze still trained intently on mine.
“A triple threat, that’s what you are.”
What does he mean by that?
“I’m sorry to disappoint but singing and acting aren’t my thing.”
Kane laughs revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. “Intelligent, witty, and sexy as all fuck.”
My body and mouth are rendered useless. Kane Alexander is playing all the right chords and I’m letting him. Why? Because his words are what make my body hum. His tone is what sends shivers of delight through to my soul. And his midnight-sky eyes strip me bare, failing to disguise his deliciously wicked thoughts.
He stands in the threshold and says one last thing, “We’d make a good team, Blythe. In and outside the bedroom,” before he disappears as quick as he came.
* * *
“He said what?” Amanda’s eyes bulge as we walk through the warehouse compiling ideas for a hotel bar and restaurant. I pick up a swatch bundle and flick through the fabric choices.
“He said it so easily, completely unfazed and so sure of the situation. He’s so… confident.”
Amanda raises her brows in question. “Do you think he’s a player?”
“It certainly wouldn’t surprise me. How could a man like that not be?”
“Well…” she says, holding two patterns next to each other for comparison, “the man barely looks at me when he comes in. Not typical player behavior, who have eyes everywhere.”
She’s right. Amanda is stunning. If the man is a player, he would surely go for her… or at least flirt, but since he doesn’t, it leads me to believe perhaps he’s as genuine as he says he is.
My cell chimes with an incoming email.
“His ears must be burning,” Amanda says, eyeing my screen.
“The man’s intuition is second to none.”
My heart skips a few beats when I read his invitation, or should I say, demand.
Blythe,
Dinner with me, tomorrow night. Don’t overanalyze it. Be like Little Red.
Yours,
Kane
I bite my lip to stop the smile. My stomach fills with butterflies, nervous and full of trepidation.
Am I in the right frame of mind to be having dinner with him?