“I hear you’ve met my mom before, so I think you know I can handle shopping. No, it’s not my favorite thing, but something tells me you’ll make it enjoyable.”
“There you go flirting again, Mr. Rodriquez.” She bats her eyelashes as if she doesn’t know she’s doing the same thing.
“Callie,” I groan with the way she calls me by my last name.
“Yes?” she questions.
“Don’t call me Mr. Rodriquez when it’s just the two of us. I want to hear my name on the tip of your tongue.” I go for broke, and it has the effect I was going for. Callie’s sharp inhale of breath tells me she feels something, too.
The waiter coming to bring our drinks and food stops her from replying. I watch Callie when she takes her first bite of her pastry. The moan that passes her lips sets me on edge. I want to hear that moan when my lips are on hers, my finger pinching and pulling on her nipples, my face buried between her luscious thighs, or my cock sliding deep inside of her.
When Callie opens her eyes, she watches me swallow visibly. A coy smile peeps out and has me shifting in my seat. Fuck, what is this woman doing to me?
“I guess it’s my turn to make you squirm in your seat.” I watch as she takes a sip of her coffee.
“You have no idea,” I murmur. We talk about work for a few minutes, and I tell her what I’ve been working on while she was out this past week. She explains the things she was able to accomplish around the house as we finish our drinks and food.
When we’re done, Callie attempts to leave money for the bill. “No way, Callie. Put your money away.” She rolls her eyes at me but does as I ask.
“I left enough money, plus a healthy tip. I remember what it was like working two jobs to support myself while going through college. Mi Madre tried to help as much as she could, but I wouldn’t allow her. She raised me, so it was her time to follow her dreams.” She nods in understanding. “Ready?” I ask.
“Yes, but you could have at least let me leave a tip.”
As we walk toward the exit, my hand finds the small of her back. “I could have, but I invited you.”
Callie and I do as she plans; we shop a little bit. She picks up an outfit for Clairabella, a shirt for herself, and I pick up a bracelet for Mom. I hate like hell that our time is coming to an end as I walk us back to where she parked, but I know I need to take things slow with Callie. I have a lot to make up for and to show her I really want this.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Callie says when we arrive at her car.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for spending your day off with me.” My hand finds the slope of her neck again, my thumb brushing over the pulse point.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“That you will.” I kiss her forehead, pull away, and watch as she gets in her car.
I know one thing for sure; I’m ready to see what this week brings.
13
Callie
I’m back at the place I never thought I would step foot back into. When I arrived, I wasn’t expecting Jamie to be here before me, yet he was. My new schedule allowed me to drop Claira off at school. The looks I got as I walked into the main entrance were awkward at best, but this time the box I took isn’t in my hands. I just slipped a picture of Claira and me in my purse to display on my desk this time around.
When I make it to my desk, I put the framed picture on display, throw my purse in my desk drawer, wipe my sweaty palms down the front of my skirt, and make my way to Jamie’s office. Yesterday, he had my system in overdrive—the heated looks, the touches, the way he talked. It had me scratching my head.
I knock on his office door, not knowing if anything else has changed in the office.
“Callie, come on in.” I hear his voice, which sounds husky with need, and it hits me right between my legs.
“Good morning.” I would usually bring in a cup of coffee for him before I start my day, but I feel like this is my first day all over again.
“Good morning. How are you this morning?” he asks.
“A little nervous, and I’m not sure why.”
Jamie does something I least expect; he stands up from his seat, walks around toward the chair I’m sitting in, and props himself on the edge of his desk. I take him in. His hair is styled for the day, unlike yesterday when it was loose and flying freely in the breeze. He’s wearing a suit that fits him perfectly with its black on black color. He forewent the tie he usually wears and has his shirt unbuttoned at the hollow of his throat; if he had one more undone, I could see his chest. My eyes trail down the length of his body, stopping at that place, and I lick my dry lips. I swear to all that is holy, he is hard.