My eyes shift to Sig as I move past him. He meets them and watches me until I reach the door, at which time he opens it for me. I nod my thanks, ignoring the way my skin tingles where my shoulder brushes him as I slip by.
Neither of us says a word as we make our way to the elevator and down from the penthouse. At the lobby, Sig mutters, “I’ll pick you up at the curb.”
“Don’t you need the keys?” I ask.
He holds up a single key on a ring and jiggles it. I thought I had the only two keys to my car. Evidently Lance had another one made when he gifted it to me. Figures.
I barely catch his wink before he turns and walks off toward the exit that leads to the parking garage. For just a few seconds before I continue on through the lobby to the front doors, I let myself take in his tall form, his lean physique, his cocky swagger. He’s downright sinful to look at.
When I finally reach the exit, the doorman is waiting to assist me. “Ms. Lawrence. Will you be needing a car today?”
“No, thank you, Gerald.”
The older man bows his graying head, his faded hazel eyes crinkling kindly at the corners. Although I’m sure he has an inkling what Lance does for a living, he’s never given me the impression that he looks down on me or thinks I’m actually involved. Not like so many others do. They try to hide it, of course, but it’s fairly obvious that they think I’m no better than Lance is. And in some ways I’m not, but it still rankles that they put me in the same category when they don’t really know the first thing about me. Few people do. And even fewer still know the truth.
“Gonna be a scorcher today.”
I turn my face up to the sky as I walk out the door he holds open for me. The blue expanse boasts not a single cloud, just a blaring yellow sun. “Looks like you might be right.”
Focusing on the hot, humid breeze brushing my cheeks and tossing my up-do, I wait for my driver. My prison guard. My possible downfall.
I hear the expensive hum of an engine pull up to the curb and I open my eyes to Sig dragging his big body from behind the wheel of my Maserati and coming around the hood to open the back door for me. I don’t argue. I just bide my time until we are alone.
“Thank you,” I say politely, ducking inside the cool interior. I don’t glance at Sig as he closes the door and I try not to follow his every move with my eyes. But it’s hard. It’s really, really hard. Something about him draws me. It just does.
When he slides in behind the wheel, he finds me in the rearview mirror and asks, “Where to?”
I give him the address of a semi-luxurious condo building I know of that happens to have a dark, swanky internet bar behind the lobby. Without asking questions, he pulls away from the curb and takes a right at the red light.
I flick my fingernail against the strap of my purse as I wait for Sig to say something. When he doesn’t, I make the first move. “So, you didn’t tell me that you knew Lance.”
“You didn’t tell me that you knew Lance.”
Fair enough.
“I, uh, I assume you didn’t, um, tell him about…about…”
Sig’s amused eyes meet mine in the mirror again. “About rescuing you on the highway? Or about wanting to kiss his girlfriend before I knew who she was?”
My breath rushes out in a huff. I knew there was an attraction between us. I’m not blind. Or stupid. But to hear him say it…it brings to mind a crystal clear fantasy of Sig taking me into those big strong arms and devouring me with that sexy mouth. Holy lord! It’s enough to make me squirm.
“Th-the highway, yes.”
I hear Sig’s soft, rumbling laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. The answer is no. I didn’t tell him about finding you on the highway. Or wishing that you were single.”
His eyes rove my flushed face through the mirror. The sad thing is, they’re no less potent this way–through glass, with distance between us. In fact, him watching me like this is a little bit naughty somehow. It’s like being spied on or something. It makes me feel…steamy.
I clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip and look away. This is like playing with fire. I knew Sig would be a problem from the moment I met him, but I didn’t give it much thought because I never imagined that I’d see him again. I was relieved (in some ways) that I wouldn’t have to worry about it. But now…now, he’s here. In my life. Even more the forbidden fruit than he was before. And even more tempting, if that’s possible.
“So, where are you really going?” he asks, my eyes flying back to his.
After my initial shock, I quickly school my expression into the most politely bland mask I can muster. “A baby shower. I thought Lance told you.”
“No, I mean where are you really going?”
“To a baby shower,” I annunciate carefully.
“If that’s your story…” he quips with an unconcerned shrug.
I frown. “It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”
A lie. Of course. I can’t spill my guts to this guy. Even though I sort of have to trust him since he has dirt on me.
“Right. If that’s what you say.”
My frown deepens with the prick of my ire. “Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I don’t appreciate the insinuation.”
“Usually I can read people pretty well. I thought you were lying. My mistake.”
Handsome, charming and perceptive? This guy has to go!
I let the silence stretch out between us. Nothing good will come from arguing with him or trying to press a point when I stand to lose, not him.
“Just Tommi,” he begins after a while. I nearly close my eyes at the sound of my name on his lips. It’s like a caress, drifting back to touch my face, nearly as tangible as the warm, moist breeze I was enjoying earlier. My gaze shifts back to find warm chocolate eyes locked onto mine. “You look beautiful today.”
I lick my suddenly-dry lips and attempt a smile. I know it looks fake, but it’s the best I can achieve with so much tension thickening the air inside the car. “Thank you.”
I want to tell him that his comment is inappropriate, that he shouldn’t look at me in such a way. But I can’t. It feels too good to have him look at me with this blatant, almost animal attraction in his eyes.
I turn my attention to the passing cars and buildings, my mind a million miles away on a man and a woman who can act on their feelings rather than having to squelch them. I don’t know how many minutes pass before I hear his voice again, but when I do, I nearly miss his words. “You can trust me, Tommi.”