Marin shifted on her feet. “Maybe some other time.”
Right. Of course. Some other time when she wasn’t on a date with another fucking guy.
He was about to stand up and just get the hell out of there. But then Marin cleared her throat, forcing him to look her way again. Marin held his gaze for a moment, those eyes conveying so much, and something settled inside him.
Okay. This wasn’t what he was labeling it as. Lane was definitely interested in Marin—that much was pretty transparent. But Marin . . . well, he was reading something entirely different off of her. And that something had his predatory instinct unfurling.
Donovan cocked his head toward the main part of the dining room. “Why don’t you grab a table before they all fill up, Lane? I’m going to steal Dr. Rush for a minute. I’ve been working on one of our cases today and need to ask her something.”
He tapped his report as proof.
Lane smiled and reached out to take Marin’s tray. “Sure. I’ll go get us set up.”
“Thanks.” Marin handed over her food.
“See ya, doc,” Lane said with a quick nod.
When Lane sauntered off, Marin crossed her arms and gave him a look full of saucy challenge. “Yes, Dr. West? What pressing case may I assist you with?”
He leaned forward on his elbows. “You do realize he thinks this is a date, right? Or at the very least, a prelude to a
date.”
She made a derisive snort. “Oh, please, he does not. We’re here for exactly what I said. Plus, I’ve heard interoffice relationships are frowned upon at The Grove. He wouldn’t ask me to a local place where we could run into anyone.”
“Lane is a contractor with us, not a full-time employee. And I promise you he doesn’t give a shit about that rule. In fact, I bet you that before you finish lunch, he asks you to go somewhere tonight.” He grabbed his papers and set them in front of her, making it look like they were discussing work.
She braced her hands on the edge of the table, pretending to read the pages and giving him a lovely view down the collar of her shirt. She didn’t look up at him when she spoke. “You’re on, West. What are we betting?”
Donovan grinned and leaned back in his chair. “If he doesn’t ask you out, I will take your next on-call night for you.”
“And if he does?”
“If he does, then you’re going to say yes.”
She straightened. “What?”
“You’ll say yes, and then you’ll text me the time and place of where you’re going.”
Deep furrows appeared in her brow. “Why?”
“Ah, that is the price of the bet. You don’t get to know. You just have to promise you’ll say yes, send me the details, and then go on the date.”
She frowned. “He’s not going to ask me.”
He shrugged and gathered the stack of documents in his hands. “Then I guess you have nothing to worry about.”
Marin looked like she was going to say more, but Donovan slid out of the booth. He put his back to where Lane had gone and gave Marin a slow, up and down look, making sure he lingered on all the good parts.
She smoothed her lipstick, and her nipples instantly became visible points beneath her shirt. He wanted to bend down and take them between his teeth, mark her skin. He wanted to see that sated look on her face again. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. From the outside observer, it looked friendly, professional. But no one else could feel how she shuddered beneath his grip.
“You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you?”
She swallowed, her throat working. “What?”
“How it’s going to feel when I finally fuck you.”
“I—”