Every voice in my head is screaming to let her walk away because this can only end badly. Our demons from the past would have a field day with this. But for some reason, no matter how much I know I shouldn’t pursue this, pursue her, my mouth still opens.
“Tonight,” I say, and she frowns. “I need you to work with me tonight. The phone call was my attorney, and he was giving me the inside scoop that a restaurant I’ve been eyeing could be bought. I need to scope the place out tonight, and I’d like your help.”
“Dinner?” she says skeptically. “Is that a good idea?”
“Work, but yes, we’ll be having dinner.”
She bites that bottom lip, and I clench my fists to keep myself from reaching out to her.
“I’ll pick you up at eight. You’ll want to wear a cocktail dress.”
She winces. “I don’t exactly have a cocktail dress.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out a wad of one-hundred-dollar bills. Not bothering to count it, I extend the money to Bailey.
“I’m not taking your money,” she says, appalled.
“It’s a business expense, Bailey. For the job you’ll have to do, you’ll need a new wardrobe. My accountant will get with you on all that tomorrow with the rest of your paperwork. I’ll have him add this to the mix.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but when she finally reaches out to take it, she stumbles. I grab her hand, and without thinking, I pull her toward me to steady her.
She squeaks as her body meets mine.
Her head tilts up so that our eyes meet, and I can see the desire there. No matter how hard she tries to deny it, it was definitely there.
I know I need to let her go now that she is steady, but with her tucked in my arms, I can’t seem to.
“Drew.”
The way she says my name, breathy and wanton, makes me swallow hard.
“We . . . we can’t,” she says, turning her head as she battles with her own emotions.
My hand goes under her chin and pulls her gaze back to mine.
Her breath hitches, and her chin quivers at our proximity. She stares at me, then takes the lead and does us both a favor by stepping backward.
I had no damn business offering anything to Bailey. She’s smart to step back.
“I need to go,” she says, holding her hand up to signal a cab. “I have a lot to process, and I can’t think right now,” she admits.
“Bailey, I—”
She cuts me off. “No. Please . . . don’t say anything more, Drew. I’ll see you tonight,” she says, before opening the door to the cab that has just pulled up in front of her.
“I’ll be there at eight.”
She offers a small smile that I’m taking as an olive branch. I return it with a smile and a nod as she lowers herself into the cab and drives off, leaving me to contemplate what the hell I’ve just done.
17
Bailey
Since I never ate earlier, I decide to grab lunch from a corner bistro near my sister’s law firm.
It’s a ballsy move popping in on her at work after what happened between us at the club, but I really need to see her, and this is the one place she can’t really avoid me without making yet another scene.
“Hi, Bailey,” Sarah, the receptionist greets pleasantly, clearly not being in the know that I’m currently on the outs with Harper. That or the girl has a future in theater. With her porcelain skin and silky brown hair, she’d be perfect. I shake my head, trying to concentrate on the reason I’m here.
“Is Harp around?” I ask, lifting the paper bags to show I brought an impromptu lunch.
She smiles. “She is, and she’s currently free. Go on back.”
“Thanks,” I say, making my way down the hall to Harper’s corner office.
I slow because as much as I tried to convince myself that everything is normal, and this is just our regular monthly lunch date, I know damn well I’m the last person she wants to see. This is going to be awkward as hell, and in truth, no matter how close I am to my sister, I’m not ready for this.
Her door is cracked, and her head is bent over her desk, reading a document. I rap my knuckles on the door two times, and she looks up. When she realizes it’s me, she frowns, and my shoulders sag.
“Can I come in?” I ask, lifting the paper bags once more. “An olive branch.”
Her lips form a straight line, but she nods, giving me permission to enter. I shut the door behind me, creeping toward her desk slowly.
“What are you doing here, Bailey?”
I sigh. “I came to talk. I knew you wouldn’t answer your door if I went there.”
“You’re right,” she admits, and I want to cry.