Working this much for a woman should have been boring, but as he’d never had to try this hard before, he found the challenge intriguing. Almost as enthralling as Nat.
Tuesday night, he met Nat at her place for a meal she’d promised to prepare. He arrived with a six-pack of the beer she’d liked on their Saturday-night-date-that-wasn’t-a-date.
“Hey, Nat. How’s it going?” Keep it casual. Friendly. He leaned closer to press a kiss to her cheek. God, not reaching for the rest of her about killed him. He handed her the beer. “Enjoy, compliments of the house.”
She smiled. As usual, in her spare time she dressed casually and still managed to look amazing. Her torn shorts and Yankees tee-shirt gave her a girl-next-door appearance. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg her to give him a shot. Then beg her to let him fuck her but good.
Clearing her throat, she pulled back and glanced away from the intensity in his gaze.
Damn. He hoped he looked a lot less desperate than he felt. “So what’s on the agenda for tonight?”
“I ordered in pizza.”
“That’s cheating.”
“Hey, I said I’d make dinner. I’m making it appear. Same difference.”
He sighed. “I feel so misled. So used.”
She chuckled. “Shut up. You wanted to be friendly, I’m inviting you into my house for a shared meal. That’s about as friendly as I get.”
He had the feeling Nat wasn’t kidding. Such a prickly thing. Though amicable and respected at work—he knew because he’d discreetly asked around—she didn’t seem to have many visitors. No tight friends that he could tell, though she seemed chummy enough with Freddy. Nat exuded an all-work, no-play vibe clearly visible at the office and in her obsessively organized home.
The neatness all around smothered him, and he had an overwhelming urge to muss the stack of magazines on her coffee table. Something to shake her, to get her to drop those repressive walls and share her inner desires.
He resisted the urge and followed her into the kitchen. He accepted the beer she poured him, raised his glass and clinked it against the one she’d poured for herself.
“What are we toasting to?” she asked.
“To a heavenly extra cheese pizza. I’m just hoping you didn’t order sausage or mushrooms. I hate them.”
Her evil grin made her that much cuter. “Oh, I ordered pizza with all the fixings.”
“Monster.”
“And a small calzone in case you were picky.”
“Thank God. You might be civilized after all under that Yankee veneer.”
She snickered. “Y’all lost the war. Get over it already.”
“Sugar, I was talking about your God-awful taste in baseball teams.” He nodded at her shirt.
She flushed. “Oh.”
He laughed. “So tell me, how can an intelligent woman root for a team so miserably bad?”
“Bad? I think you’re confusing us with the Braves.” She argued win-loss averages over the years, battings statistics and ball team history like a pro.
Rex fell more under her spell. If it turned out she watched Formula One too, he was going on one knee and offering to marry her, on the spot, no questions asked. Except at mention of Formula One, she frowned.
“Oh, those weird looking race cars? Not my thing.”
So no marriage proposal tonight then. He’d keep that in his back pocket for later.
The pizza arrived, and the stubborn woman refused to let him pay. Instead, she watched him dig into the calzone with a knife and fork, shaking her head at his attempts to neatly consume greasy food.
“Such a prima donna. Just pick the damn thing up and eat it with your hands.”
He cringed. “My momma would die on the spot.”
“She won’t know.” Nat huffed.
“She will. You don’t know Sue Samson. Woman has a second sight. Always knows when I’m doing without manners.”
“Then she must be cringing constantly.”
He laughed. After a pause he asked, “So how is it an uptight woman like yourself, who doesn’t allow a speck of dust to linger in her house, has an issue with me using silverware to eat a pizza?”
“Did you just call me uptight?”
“I believe I did.” He had the satisfaction of watching anger turn her gaze from green to dark brown.
He thought she might finally admit she’d been the one behind the mask at the club that night, to show how not uptight she could be. But then she relaxed and shrugged. “So I’m uptight—I like my job. I work in an office where they eat their young. I can be gruff and deal frankly with subordinates, but step one foot out of place when it comes to not being a lady, and I’m out on my ass. A dichotomy I’m not fond of.”
He frowned. “You make way too much out of fitting in at work.”
“Do I?” She poked him in the shoulder. “Do you know why the last urban planner was fired? For doing his assistant. And the mayor’s last secretary was urged to leave because someone found out she was gay.”
“Who? Old Abby Denton?”
“Yep.”
He laughed. “Honey, Abby wasn’t gay. She lived with her elderly sister. She wasn’t fired either. She quit.”
“Not what I heard.”
“The last mayor fooled around with city money and was let go. Jessup might be a philandering ass, but he’s a by-the-book kind of guy in the office. A lot like you, only not as pretty.”
“Oh, that’s mean. Comparing me to the mayor like that.”
He shrugged.
They continued to banter as they finished the six-pack. He didn’t know when he’d enjoyed an evening more. He just wished he knew how to break through her fun yet distant barrier. She laughed and made eye contact, but he could tell she kept a piece of herself tucked away. That sensual dynamo festering just under the surface.
“I’ll do dishes,” he offered when he realized the evening had wound down. Nearly eleven, and they’d done nothing but argue, tease and argue some more.
“We’re eating off paper plates, genius.”
“And paper napkins,” he reminded her. “Like I said, I’ll do dishes.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a smile.
Wishing he could stretch out the evening longer but knowing he’d do well to leave before he made the mistake of kissing her again, he cleaned up the kitchen and prepared to go. He’d have to rethink how to get her to admit to her fantasies. Some more sex at the club, maybe? He’d have Freddy tell Nat that R had asked for her. Then he’d tear off his mask after making her come and show her the truth. Maybe that would work…if it didn’t backfire terribly.
“I had a great time.” He searched for his keys. He could have sworn he’d left them on the counter.
“Looking for these?” She dangled his keys from her finger and stood by the door.
“You’re a slick one.” He walked toward her, but as he tried to grab his keys, she pulled them back.
“Uh-uh.”
He raised a brow, intrigued by the heat in her eyes. “Hmm. You holding me hostage?”
“Something like that.” She dropped the keys on the floor and gripped his shirt to pull him closer.
“Um, Nat?” His voice had grown embarrassingly deep, his arousal impossible to miss.
“You want to leave, you have to pay the toll.” She practically purred the challenge, and he wanted nothing more than to ask his mistress for permission to please her.
“Toll?” Hell, if she moved any closer she’d find herself pressed against that enthusiastic part of him demanding she take notice.
“A kiss, Rex. A kiss for your freedom.”
“What if I like it fine right here?”
“Then a kiss to stay.”
He smiled, relieved she’d finally made her move. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”