I declined coffee and dessert, hoping not to prolong things any more than we had to, and luckily, they followed suit. We said goodnight in the hotel lobby, and on my way to the elevator, I was very tempted to stop in at the bar and have a shot or two. But I needed a clear head for my next meeting—the one Weston had no idea we were about to have.
***
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist a second go ’round.” Weston opened the door to his suite and hung on to the top of it.
I brushed past him and marched directly into his room. Turning around, I noticed for the first time that he had on nothing but an unbuttoned dress shirt and a pair of black boxer briefs. I motioned to his outfit. “What the hell are you doing?”
He looked down. “Ummm… Getting undressed.”
I turned my head. “Well, put some damn clothes on!”
Surprisingly, he listened. He walked to where his slacks were draped over a chair and slipped them back on. He zipped up, but left the top button and his belt both open.
Turning to face him once he was decent, my eyes landed on a thin line of hair that ran from his unbuttoned pants up to his navel. I tried not to let it distract me, but that damn happy trail…well, it was sexy as hell. Which pissed me off even more.
Blinking a few times, I forced my eyes up to his face while my hands gripped my hips. “What the hell? You knew about the union issue and went to see them today? What kind of dumb game are you playing?”
Weston shrugged. “I didn’t see my cell phone ringing after you apparently found out.”
I scowled. “I only found out today, while you were already off holding a meeting!”
He inched closer. “Your father is a real asshole.”
That was obvious. Everyone knew that, especially me. And I could spout off about him all I wanted, but no one else could—especially a Lockwood. “Don’t talk about my father.”
Weston’s eyes widened, and his head pulled back. “Seriously? You’re going to defend him after the way he spoke to you?”
“How he speaks to me is none of your damn business.”
He smirked, but said nothing.
“What the hell are you smiling at?” I growled.
Weston tapped his finger to his front tooth. “You got a little piece of something stuck right here. Spinach or parsley, maybe? Did you have the oysters Rockefeller? They’re really good, aren’t they?”
“What? No! I didn’t have oysters!” I reached up and rubbed at my tooth.
“It reminds me of when you were a kid. Remember that big gap you used to have between your front teeth? It would’ve taken something pretty big to get stuck in that thing. Why did you get rid of that anyway? I liked it.”
I did have terrible teeth when we were kids. I’d spent countless hours in the orthodontist’s chair over my five years of braces. Though I was surprised he would even remember that.
Weston caught me off guard when he leaned forward and scraped at my tooth, removing whatever had been stuck for me.
“Got it,” he said, holding up his finger.
I have no idea why, but the simple gesture seemed so intimate, and it made me sort of warm. Thus, I countered that with as much frost as I could muster.
Smacking his hand away, I grumbled, “Keep your hands to yourself.”
Weston took a step forward. “You sure about that?” He reached out and rested his hand on my hip. “You look like you could use blowing off some steam again.”
I hated that my body immediately reacted to his touch. It pissed me off more than what he’d done or how he’d interfered with my father. “Screw you.”
He moved closer, and his fingers dug deeper into my hip. “We’re finally on the same page.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew about the union issue?”
He leaned closer and inhaled deeply. “What perfume are you wearing?”
“Answer me, you asshole. Why didn’t you mention the strike?”
“I’ll tell you, but you’re not going to like the truth.”
“I don’t like most things that come out of your mouth, but that’s never stopped you from talking.”
“The president of the union doesn’t work well with women. If I’d told you there were issues, you would have insisted on coming, and the guy is a real piece of shit. He wouldn’t have listened to a thing you said, and then the minute you weren’t within earshot, he would have talked about your tits to me. Which would have pissed me the fuck off and made me punch him. It was best to avoid all that bullshit and just get it done.”
“The way to deal with a sexist asshole isn’t to give in to him. It’s to address it head on, in a professional manner.”