“Are you there?”
I recover myself enough to realize that I have to say something. “Landon,” I start. “I can’t keep them. We agreed that they were a loan.”
“And now I want you to have them.”
Why? I almost ask him. Do you need to give me something you can consider as payment for the time we spent together? So you don’t feel like you owe me anything? Well, you owe me nothing. I’m a big girl, and I knew what I was getting into.
Except I didn’t.
I close my eyes, my throat tight. “It’s not enough that you want me to keep them. Maybe you always get what you want, but this time…”
“Rachel,” he interrupts. “Stop. I don’t carry expensive jewelry around in case I’ll need to give gifts to random women. I bought them for you,” he emphasizes the word, “because I thought they would look great on you.”
I am silent.
“And contrary to what I said to you, a long time ago,” he exhales audibly, “I don’t always get what I want.”
I swallow, suddenly confused. What does he mean? My eyes go to the package on my desk. “I’m not going to keep them Landon.”
“Okay.” There’s a short pause on his side. “Why don’t we talk about it then, face to face?”
The instinct to say no is defeated by my desire to see him, which is so strong, that every other thought is instantly pushed out of my head. I have to pause and try to get control of my brain. “I don’t think…”
“Let’s have lunch,” he suggests. “I’ll come to you. Is that okay?”
God! I want to see him. So badly. “It’s fine. I’m free at one.”
“Perfect.”
In the few minutes before one, I hover nervously by my phone, smoothing my hair and checking my clothes. By the time he calls to let me know that he’s close to my building, I’m a mess of nervousness, eagerness, and desire.
Downstairs, he’s waiting on the curb, gold waves windblown, his sensational body clad in another perfect suit. He’s leaning on the gleaming black car like a ridiculously gorgeous model in a photoshoot.
“Oh fuck.” I mumble at the sight of him, a bolt of awareness moving through me. Why does he have to look so good? How am I supposed to stop thinking about him when he insists on reminding me just how delicious he is?
He unfolds himself from the car and faces me, spearing me with his intense blue gaze. Somehow, I manage to walk up to him without swooning. “Hey.”
“Hey Rachel.” His eyes are roaming my face, stormy and intense. The look goes straight to my core, where it starts a slow heat. He opens the door for me, then walks around the car to join me, settling into the seat beside me while Joe, who’s driving us, pulls away from the curb.
I resist the urge to make small talk. I’m feeling too much to pretend that I care about things like the weather or traffic. He doesn’t seem to want to talk either. His eyes are in front, his fingers tapping on the armrest between us. His face, when I steal a glance at him, looks as if he’s deep in thought.
“How’s your day been?” he asks, when the silence has stretched to breaking point.
“Okay. Just… work.”
He nods. Then he turns to look at me, and his eyes are blazing with hunger that matches what I’m feeling. Trapped in that gaze, I can’t move, I fully expect him to do something, touch me, kiss me… I know I won’t resist, but then Joe stops at the entrance of a glass fronted building and we have to leave the car.
Lunch is at a swanky restaurant close to the top floor of the building. There’s an excellent view of the city from where we’re sitting in a secluded part of the restaurant, shielded from other lunchers by a creative arrangement of furniture and indoor plants.
A waiter takes our order, and while we wait, I try to keep my eyes on the table, the view, anything but Landon. I feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, or like he’s a magnet and I’m a helpless piece of metal.
When I finally get the courage to look at him, his eyes are on me.
I breathe. “You said you wanted to talk.”
He nods. “I did.”
He doesn’t offer more, so I start. “There was no need for us to come here because of your jewelry.”