“No,” I said slowly. “Okay, not completely. I meant in the cosmic sense. You’re here. You’re alive. You’re healthy and wealthy and wise. Well, somewhat wise.”
He snorted. “That’s the first time anyone has ever said that to me.”
That startled me a bit. “That’s not okay.”
“I’m not asking for your pity,” he said. “Just a statement of fact.”
“And I’m not giving you my pity.” Even though I sort of was.
“So, avoidance,” he said, deflecting smoothly.
“Busy,” I insisted, and not wanting to get behind schedule, I pushed him back gently in the chair, his skin hot under my fingers. He went with little resistance, eyes never leaving my face. He arched his back a little, whether showing off or unconscious movement, I didn’t know. Regardless, it put his full body on display, the cut lines of his chest and stomach, the V of his waist, the trail of hair that disappeared into the black briefs. I pressed my leg in between his, wriggling it back and forth until he got the picture and spread his legs farther, allowing me to step between them and stand above him. Helena, that crazy fucking bitch, loved the position we were in. I was above him, towering and dominant. He was spread out below me, body pliant and willing. Waiting for me to do what I wanted with him, like he was my own personal fucktoy. To anyone watching us, they would have seen what amounted to ease and familiarity between two people who they thought to be together. But from the inside, between just him and me, there was a tenseness, a crackling that I didn’t know if I wanted any part of.
I didn’t think attraction had ever been our problem. At least it hadn’t been for me. Some part of me had always known Darren was attracted to me, but it was a peripheral thing, something I didn’t allow myself to focus on.
Not until this ridiculous fucking scheme Mike had come up with that I’d barely hesitated in agreeing to and then fucked up completely so that Darren and I were stuck in this weird push-and-pull where it felt like I was both pushing and pulling.
Whatever.
I could stand between the legs of a nearly naked Darren Mayne and be perfectly fine. It wouldn’t affect me in the slightest.
I bent over in front of him until our faces were inches from each other. Strictly to see the canvas I’d be working on and nothing more. I barely even saw him as anything more than that.
His tongue darted out, wetting his lips.
Okay.
You can sure as shit bet I saw the fuck out of that.
My breath caught in my chest and he knew.
“Sandy,” he said, and it was like he was growling.
I glared.
“Helena,” he corrected.
“Yes?” I frowned, running a finger over his eyebrows, wondering if I needed to pluck them at all.
“Are we going to talk about this?”
“About what?”
His thighs brushed against my leg, applying the barest bit of pressure, like he was thinking of trapping me against him. That was a bad idea in a long history of bad ideas.
“You know what.”
I sighed and looked up, making sure no one was listening to us. “There’s nothing to talk about.” I considered taking a step back. I settled for standing straight up. “And even if there was, now certainly wouldn’t be the time to do so. In two hours, the doors are going to open and I’ll have to pimp you bitches out so we can raise enough money to save Jack It, so anything we would need to talk about can surely wait until that is over.”
He arched an eyebrow up at me, and I decided yes, I very much liked being above him, Helena or not. “Pimp you bitches,” he repeated.
“Oops,” I said. “I mean auction you for a good cause.”
“That’s better.”
“Like cattle.”
“That’s… not better.”