She covered her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. He just…has a way with women, and I like you too much to let my brother potentially fuck up our friendship.”
I tried not to imagine all the things related to the F word that I was finding myself perfectly willing to let him do to me. “Good thing I’m practically celibate,” I said wryly.
“Yeah, there’s that, and you’re nothing like the women who usually throw themselves at him. His type is manicured, made up, plastic, glam, superficial, and practically mentally incapacitated. Oh yeah, and the blonder the better.”
“So I’m not his type,” I said with a small laugh, though I didn’t feel like laughing at all.
“Well, you’re not mentally incapacitated.”
“Yeah,” I said, silently acknowledging that when I was around him, I probably was, just a little.
My days at JH Publishing, where I’d worked since I graduated college usually included a morning meeting then hours spent reading manuscripts. This was usually followed by a few more hours spent typing out notes about what I thought of each attempt at readable fiction then sending the notes to my senior editor before attacking the next pile of submissions.
Occasionally, I found something that gripped me, but those times were few and far between. I’d spent the morning slogging through a few chapters of a fantasy novel where the characters were practically indistinguishable, and the plot made no sense to me, and then I moved on to a story that was obviously Oliver Twist but if Oliver Twist was a girl. By noon, I was already burned out.
My cell rang just before lunch.
“Hello?”
“Hello.” The voice was deep, smooth, and familiar. “This is Jason Wild.”
A shiver ran down my spine and ended up as a warm tingle somewhere between my legs. I’d never wanted to sleep with someone as badly as I wanted to sleep with Jason Wild. The intensity of my desire for him both surprised and confused me.
“Hi, Jason,” I said, forcing my voice to come out smoothly.
“Before you ask,” he continued in that voice that was somehow even sexier on the phone. “Amy gave me your number.”
Why would she do that after she all but warned me off him? “She did?”
“Yeah…” He paused. “It’s the exhibition. She thought you might need a ride, and since I happen to be going there myself, I thought I’d take you.”
I’d take you.
I swallowed. Just…no. “I’m swamped with work, so I’m going to leave a little later than I planned. I wouldn’t want to delay you.”
He chuckled softly. “Daphne, just tell me when you’ll be free to leave.”
The gallery was across town, far enough that the thought of a ride was welcome, but that meant a long ride, alone, in a car with Jason. I didn’t trust myself not to tear his clothes off before we got there. What was it about him and why did I want him so badly? I wasn’t a nymphomaniac. I liked sex, but it wasn’t a crazy addiction I couldn’t do without. With Jason, though, it almost felt like that.
“Daphne,” Jason prompted, the velvety way he said my name pulling me out of my thoughts. “When will you be free?”
“I…um…I’ll be ready at seven.”
“Perfect,” he said. “See you then.”
See you then.
Since when did the most ordinary words have the power to make me soaking wet?
By seven, I was ready. I’d brushed my hair and reapplied my makeup, and I was wearing a simple beige top and dark pants. It had been nice enough when I chose it in the morning, but now, I wondered if I shouldn’t have taken more care with my appearance.
“You look nice.” Candace, one of the senior editors with whom I was very friendly, gave me a once-over as she walked past me on her way out of the building. “Big date?”
I shook my head. “I’m just going to an exhibition.”
“Mmmhm.” She stopped and gave me a doubtful look. “Must be some exhibition. I’ve never seen you looking so on point.”
“What do you mean?” I laughed. “I’m always on point.”