This wasn’t them. Not the Blake and Farrah she knew. But time, heartbreak, and secrets had twisted them into darker versions of themselves, ones that resorted to playing games like this. Their banter at The Egret earlier that night seemed like a lifetime ago. By now, Farrah had lost track of how they got here or what they were doing. They sure as hell weren’t dancing.
Blake dipped his head, and she felt the faintest touch of his lips against hers. Not a peck, not even a brush, but a whisper of a promise.
Farrah’s chest clenched with fear and anticipation. Her body wanted this. Her brain did not. As for her heart…well, it didn’t know what it wanted.
He’s a client.
He’s an ex-lover.
He broke my heart.
He can make my body melt.
It’s too risky.
What’s life without a few risks?
It would be so easy to give in. Farrah’s apartment was a five-minute walk away, and Olivia had to be asleep by now. She could sneak him in without her roommate ever knowing.
Blake’s heart beat in time with hers.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Their mouths moved another millimeter closer.
Warning sirens screamed in Farrah’s head as the inferno in her body raged.
She had two seconds to decide.
Appease her body…or protect her heart?
Blake’s lips parted, and she shoved him. Hard.
Farrah ripped herself out of his embrace, her heart skidding at five hundred miles a minute. The fog in her head cleared enough for her to realize they’d smashed past the boundaries she’d insisted they adhere to.
She’d deal with that later. Right now, she needed to get out here.
“I’m leaving.” Her voice sounded far away to her own ears. “It’s late.”
Blake nodded. He’d won—she’d backed down first—but for a victor, he looked awfully defeated.
Farrah grabbed her belongings and hurried out the door. Her feet hit the cracked pavement, and she didn’t stop running until her red brick building come into view.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
By running away, she’d showed her hand. Despite what she said, she wasn’t over Blake. An irrational, primal part of her still wanted him, and now they both knew it.
Farrah could’ve stayed and played the game through to the end, but that wasn’t an option.
She had too much to lose.
Chapter Twelve
“We have you fully booked for media in the two weeks leading up to the grand opening. In fact, Mode de Vie wants to do a big lifestyle feature on for their October issue. The interview will be in June, and they requested a photoshoot at your apartment. Is it going to be ready by then?”
“Yeah, Angus beef is fine.” Blake watched two contractors assemble the stadium-style seats in the special events section of the bar. The heavy thud of hammers hitting nails and the screechy whine of high-powered drills filled the air. Blake loved those sounds. It was the sound of shit getting done, of success and hard work; it was also the one area of his life that hadn’t gone to hell.
His chief of staff glanced up from her clipboard with a frown. Patricia Hart was a lot of things— competent, assertive, organized to a fault—but she was not tolerant of people slacking off. Not even when that person was her boss.