No Strings Attached. Alison Kent
she’d pumped a lot of iron over the past couple of months or he’d really been blind as a bat the few times he’d had his hands on her before. Especially that time they’d danced at Lauren and Anton’s housewarming party…after he’d licked the salt from her skin, downed a shot of tequila and sucked the juice from the lime she’d held in her mouth.
God Bless America, but the woman could kiss.
Catching him in his intent study of her rear view, Chloe suddenly turned and flopped down on his office couch, which was some local designer’s interpretation of a cushy baseball dugout.
Middle fingers rubbing at her temples, Chloe closed her eyes and leaned back. “I really don’t know what I’m doing here.”
She’d mumbled the words, and he knew she’d said them more to herself than to him, but he wasn’t going to let her slide by that easily. “I think you’re here to make me an offer I can’t refuse.”
She stopped rubbing, looked up suspiciously. “You already told me no.”
He had, but she hadn’t looked quite so down and defeated then as she did now. And he hadn’t felt quite so compelled to offer himself up as her savior. Maybe one of these days he’d come to his senses and rescue stray animals instead of stray women. But for now…
Hands braced hip level on the edge of his desk, he crossed his ankles and made the conscious and recognizably half-witted decision to invite her confidence. He’d worry about regrets later—when he was in over his head.
“You went to a lot of trouble to get my attention, princess. You must need me in ways I’ve only dreamed about.”
“More like in ways I’ve never dreamed about,” she said, not even rising to his bait.
Ouch! Slam! Cut to the bone! “So, tell Dr. Eric all about it before Jason drags me back out to the bar.”
Chloe took a deep breath, scooted forward to sit primly on the edge of the couch. Her face, when she looked up to meet his gaze, could not have shown less guile. “Here’s the thing. I love my career. I really do. I can’t think of anything that would make me as happy as I am at gIRL-gEAR. And I don’t want to lose it. I’ll do anything not to lose it.”
“Why would you worry? You’re a partner. It’s not like you’d be first in line to be laid off.”
“It’s not about layoffs or downsizing. Sydney knows what she’s doing. Our bottom line has never been so black.” Chloe tucked her hands beneath her thighs, rocked back and forth and finished her explanation in a rush. “This is about me, my mouth and…my habit of dating everyone who asks.”
“Oh, now. That hurt my feelings. I asked and you turned me down.” He gave her a quick wink designed to convince both of them he was teasing.
“I’m exaggerating, obviously. I don’t go out with everyone.” Her rocking slowed and she studied him intently with those big violet eyes.
Eric tightened his fingers over the edge of his desk. “Just everyone but me.”
“I didn’t go out with you because, well, I have my reasons…one of them being that you’re a lot of fun.” She paused, as if wondering how much to say, then softly admitted, “I didn’t want to screw that up.”
“Dating is supposed to be fun. Dating me would be a hell of a lot of fun,” he said, more harshly than he’d intended.
Chloe straightened her back, gave a regal lift of her chin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“See that you do.” It was all he could think of to say, at bat, as he was, bases loaded, bottom of the ninth.
“But then what happens when we finish dating?” She waited for him to answer, and when he remained silent, she added, “I don’t want to screw up what we have as friends.”
What did they have as friends? And why did it feel like he’d been clothes-lined by her assumption that they’d be “finished dating”?
Even though he knew she was right, and he couldn’t see himself sharing a future with Chloe, he didn’t appreciate not being given a chance.
To do what, hotshot? Prove the princess as capable of dumping on you as any woman?
“Give me a clue here, Chloe. What sort of assistance, exactly, would you be needing from Eric’s Escort Service?” Maybe he could back his way into helping her out, because no matter how much he enjoyed her company, he wasn’t going to act the part of any escort.
Chloe got to her feet, paced to the opposite end of the couch, then back. She worked her hands as she talked. “Over the next few months, gIRL-gEAR is scheduled to be profiled in several national publications. Sydney has her eye on the big time. She’s courting designers. She’s talked about taking the company public.
“Which means we’re all living under a magnifying glass. We’ve been ordered to clean up our acts. And I specifically have been asked to dismantle the skeletons in my closet and give the room a thorough disinfecting.”
“Wow.” Eric nodded and absorbed and tried to fit his escort services into the lineup. “That’s heavy duty.”
“Which part? gIRL-gEAR going public?” She narrowed her eyes. “Or my skeletons?”
“If you have any skeletons, you’ve done a super job of keeping them under wraps. But then, that would make them mummies, wouldn’t it?” He waited for her to get it, then added, “Skeletons? Under wraps?”
“That’s not funny.”
“C’mon, Chloe. I can’t believe it’s all gloom and doom. You’ve been here, what?” He glanced at the basketball goal converted to a clock on the wall above her head. “Thirty minutes?”
“Yes. And?”
“So, you might’ve slipped one by me, but I don’t think I’ve heard so much as a dagnabbit come out of your mouth.”
“Trust me.” Her hands went deep into the pockets of her shorts, her gaze to the toes of her cross-trainers. “It’s only for the tight leash I have on my tongue.”
Eric leaned forward, catching the scent of sunshine in her hair. He smiled and whispered, “Just don’t let go. You’ll be fine.”
“So, you’ve solved one of my problems.” She held up two fingers. “There’s still my fast and furious reputation. And then there’s Poe.”
“Poe?”
“A buyer at work. Her name is Annabel Lee. And she’d sell her soul for my job.”
Eric needed more information to diffuse that particular bomb. But since Chloe’s reputation was one thing he knew about, he could ease at least that worry.
“You think you have a fast and furious reputation?” He shook his head. “In my dreams, maybe.”
A tiny smile crooked the corner of her mouth. “There you go. Dreaming again.”
No way was he touching that comment. Ten-foot pole or twenty. “You date a lot. It’s not a big deal. If you slept around, I’d know it.”
“What do you mean, you’d know it?”
Here he needed to tread carefully. He might not be held to the same standards as a man of the cloth, but neither did he spill his guts lightly. “We run in the same circles, Chloe. And I own a bar. Trust me. I hear as many confessions as a priest. Your reputation is safe with me.”
The second the words left his mouth, he knew he’d stepped into a big pile of dog doo. Chloe got a look in her eye that could only be called a wicked gleam.
“I was hoping you would say that.”
He stumbled over ten or twelve words before he finally shut his big mouth. This was what he got for trying to be a nice guy. At least he knew enough to stop with the shovel before he buried