Bad first impression, second impression, third, fourth, fifth impression.
Bury me now, because there’s no coming back from this.
My gut churns. My mind flicks back to the night she had to help me drag a shirtless beast into his hotel room after he almost passed out in the car.
Of course, she was pissed.
If I’d known, I would’ve never asked for her help. She squirmed when we got in the car that night.
Again, no wonder.
It must’ve been brutal having to drive her shirtless boss and his client around.
“I’ve mucked this up,” I say.
Ward shrugs. “As usual.”
I scowl at him.
“Don’t give me that look, Nicholas. It’s probably for the best. You’re clearly interested, and she’s an employee. Your own brain fart saved you from doing something stupid. Now apologize, move on, and live secure in the knowledge that she probably hates your guts and wouldn’t date you if you were the last man on Earth, competing with a mutant sea slug after all seven continents were nuked into slag. For the record, if I were a girl, I’d pick the radioactive slug, too.”
Bastard.
Ward’s right, though, as annoying as he is.
Reese Halle’s an employee. What she thinks of me shouldn’t matter much other than the fact that I’ve been a legendary jackass and she deserves an apology.
But she won’t accept it. There’s no reason she should, and the idea of this woman believing I’m an abominable creep makes me feel like a gutted trout.
Said woman floats away, her delectable plum of an ass I desperately need to forget swinging behind her.
Grumbling, I stand.
“Where are you going?” Ward asks, an edge in his voice.
“To make things right with her. Duh.”
Grandma clears her throat. “Don’t lose your head. Remember, she works for us, and she’s very good at her job. A simple apology will do, Casanova.”
“No Casanova! Not with this. I’m a professional, Grandma. I need to apologize. That poor woman, she...she had to help me drag Jorge into his hotel the night things got a little wild.”
Grandma groans, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“We’re lucky she didn’t file a harassment suit,” Ward says.
“I didn’t know!” I throw back.
“Because you were drunk. The company receipt was a mile long when you had that stupid shot contest with our client,” he grinds out.
“And I lost gracefully. That man scared me when I saw how much booze he could throw back.” I sigh. I’m tired of looking like the dumbass little brother to Ward’s business hardass image. “Also, having a stick up your ass a mile long wouldn’t have closed that deal. You didn’t seem to mind the digits it added to your net worth. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an apology to make.”
“Completely chivalrous of you, I’m sure,” Ward snaps.
I’ll argue with his grouchy ass later. The driver’s across the room now, and I have to catch up with her.
I force myself over while she puts her plate and glass in the bin set out by the caterers and starts for the door, moving briskly.
“Halle—wait!” I belt out.
The next ten seconds could be a movie scene.
She turns.
Her heart-shaped face does justice to the rest of her. Young, fresh, innocent. The same pale-blue eyes I’ve always seen in the mirror look brighter on that face, perched above soft lips that look like they’re ready to demolish any man of her choosing.
Goddamn. And I had her almost carrying a half-naked man. There’s no forgiveness for that.
How could I be so dense? Is there actually something wrong with my brain?
Without her cap and that military-grade winter coat, there’s no mistaking Reese Halle for a man.
I’m just a colossal idiot.
My eyes travel from her face, darting down her long neck to the sheer lace lining the hem of her fitted neck. Each breast rests neatly, snuggled separately in black silk.
“Mr. Brandt?” A musical lilt calls my name.
I can’t answer.
I’m too distracted by the inward scoop of her abdomen followed by the curve of her hips. The dress is high in the front, exposing the creamy white of her legs from just above the knee down.
“Mr. Brandt?” she asks again. “Did you need something?”
Yeah, to swallow the bile slowly creeping up my throat before I yak all over her and complete my eternal shame.
My gaze returns to her face.
Her cheeks have gone crimson.
Fuck. She saw me checking her out. Add that to the list of endless crap to apologize for.
“I should be going,” she says. “The town car’s parked at my apartment. I didn’t bring it today since no one requested a ride.”
“I just wanted to apologize to you. For everything, I mean.” I’m trying like hell to keep my voice level.
“Everything?” she echoes.
Shit, this is bad.
Is she going to make me say I thought she was male for well over a month? Maybe Ward’s right and it’s for the best I’ve botched this so badly. Otherwise, I’d be tempted to request a ride home in whatever she’s driving tonight.