“Never,” he rasped.
“Oh.” I licked my lips.
His eyes fell to my mouth, then back up.
My body swayed a bit.
And then the doorbell sounded, causing me to jump. I quickly walked over and opened it, thankful that it was a delivery guy with food that smelled like heaven. He looked vaguely familiar, and then it hit me when Mark suddenly spoke.
“Damon?” Mark asked. “Is that you?”
Damon had gone to college with us. I’d had a few classes with him, but he’d hung out with Mark’s group a lot.
Basically, he knew the hatred between us as well as anyone who hung out with Mark. Damn it.
Damon peered around me, eyes huge. “Mark? What the hell man, you live here?”
“Sort of?” he answered, then sighed. “It’s complicated.”
Damon looked back at me and grinned. “Ah, I see, complicated.”
“No, no, no.” I held up my hands.
“Relax.” Damon shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a bit of cohabitation in a sick penthouse with enemy number one. Enjoy your takeout. And Mark?” He did that chin jerk thing guys did when they’d hit their limit on words and maturity for the day. “We should hang soon.”
“Sure.” Mark mimicked the movement back.
Men.
“See ya.” Damon took one last look, grin wide, then walked back down the hall. I closed the door and slump-walked my way back to the kitchen. “At least they’re feeding us.”
“Yeah, and now Damon’s going to tell every mutual friend we have that we’re living together. Fantastic.”
“Sorry, it’s so horrifying to you.” My stomach grumbled as I reached inside the bag and started pulling out all the cartons. Ah, Chinese food. “We should at least attempt to get through the rest of the packet and get along. Pretty sure blood isn’t going to come out of those white couches.”
“Who has white couches?”
I snorted. “Rich people who don’t sit on them?”
“Probably true.” He relaxed, grabbed the cartons, and moved them over to the table in front of one couch, spreading everything out like a feast then coming back for his packet.
I had no choice but to follow.
We ate in relative silence. I chose to eat first then look at the rest of the packet.
Mark, however, chose multi-tasking.
Surprising, but whatever.
He turned to the next page then started to choke.
I slapped him on the back, smack, smack, smack. He finally stopped coughing, eyes watery as he rasped up at me, “I’d say thanks, but I think you left a bruise.”
“I saved your life.”
“Sure.” He cleared his throat. “That’s what I was thinking when my ribs were puncturing my spleen—life-saving strategy, party of one.”
I rolled my eyes. “What has your panties in a twist?”
“Remember that part of the intern questionnaire where they asked your preference of pet?”
I frowned. “Yeah, so? It was probably one of those personality tests like questions that check compatibility.”
“Or not.” He flashed me the page.
“We both chose gecko?”
“We both chose gecko,” he confirmed. “It’s one of our first tasks, keep the boss’s pet gecko alive overnight, which at first look doesn’t seem so hard, but he wants us to take shifts.”
“Does the gecko actually mean human infant?”
“No, if you read here, he wants us sleep-deprived for our first mission, whatever that is.”
“Well, that’s rude, and say what? Mission?”
“We have five,” he announced. “And after each mission a test of sorts, we won’t know ahead of time what the test is or when it is, just that once we complete the mission, it will happen.”
“What the hell kind of office hunger games is this?” I murmured to myself as I started reading over the rest of the vague packet. “I mean, is there anything for us to study? Anything at all?”
The doorbell rang again.
Mark froze and whispered. “It’s like The Bachelor date boxes, but a more horrifying version.”
“You watch The Bachelor?” I joked.
“My mom watches The Bachelor, and I’m a good son. I’m also a heavy pourer when it comes to wine, and she appreciates that certain skill set when it’s Rose week.” He winked.
He was close to his mom?
My heart did a little flutter before my brain stomped on its parade, reminding me that we would be dumb to let that affect this competition.
Very dumb indeed.
The doorbell rang again.
“Shit,” Mark hissed as he slowly stood.
Damn, had his thighs always been that buff? Like a trunk of a tree, made for climbing and grabbing onto—and crap, I was doing it again, wasn’t I?
I refused to watch his ass as he sauntered way too sexily toward the door and jerked it open.
Nobody was there, but a small black tank sat on the floor next to a giant black bedazzled bag that said “Little G.”
“Is that his—”
“Name? I’m afraid so, but why is the bag bedazzled if he’s a boy?”
“Maybe he likes sparkles?”
“Yes, let’s just ask him, shall we?” Mark grabbed the tank, then his bag, and closed the door.
I got up and grinned as I peered in at the lizard, which was a pale tan covered with darker spots. He had a long body with chunky legs and a fat tail. “He’s super cute. Hi, little guy.”