“Um.” I glance over to Daniel and Tristan at the bar. “Friend.”
Elliot’s eyes hold mine. “What kind of friend?”
“Not . . . that kind.”
He nods once. “I see.”
“Is your . . . girlfriend here?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Wife?”
“No,” he replies curtly.
“Oh.”
An awkward silence falls between us and I see the muscles in his jaw clench as if he’s uncomfortable too.
“Excuse me while I go to the bathroom.” I smile.
He nods once.
“Lovely to see you, Mr. Miles.”
“Elliot.” His eyes hold mine. “Likewise.”
Our gaze holds for a few seconds longer than it should.
What’s going on here?
He’s different.
The night has been a whirlwind. I haven’t laughed so much for as long as I can remember. We’ve danced and drunk and Daniel has schmoozed with the women he needs to style and I’ve had a wonderful time. It’s late and the night is coming to an end.
“Home time.” He smiles as we sway to the music, then he looks across the room. “Kate . . . what is going on with you and your boss?”
“Nothing, why?”
“He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoff, but I do have to admit, every time I look Elliot’s way, he’s already looking at me. “He is not.”
“I’m telling you, darling, I can read men’s minds.”
I giggle. “And what is his mind saying?”
“It’s saying that he’s going to bend you over his desk and fuck you hard.”
I giggle again. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s so unusual.”
“What is?”
“Do you know the kind of women he usually dates?”
“No, and I don’t care.”
“Darling, you really need to keep up to date on current events. Don’t you read the tabloids?”
“No, and I’m appalled that you do.”
“He dated an acclaimed opera singer, an author, a humanitarian lawyer. He never dates run-of-the-mill women, and he wants you.”
“Should I be flattered to be the run-of-the-mill woman, then?”
“You know what I mean.” He gives me a cheeky wink.
I burst out laughing and he spins me around. I lock eyes with Elliot Miles and he gives me the best come-fuck-me look I have ever seen.
Our eyes lock and for a moment, time stops.
My stomach flutters and I snap my eyes away.
What the fuck was that?
It’s late Tuesday night. I make a cup of tea and sit it on my bedside table, begin to flick through my phone, and click on the dating app.
You’ve got mail.
What?
I open the chat box and read the message.
Dear Miss Leroo,
You do sound very tempting indeed. Nevertheless, I have an allergy to cats and with twelve of your own, dating you is an impossibility.
My best advice is to go outside and look to the ground, there you will find your one true love, although as we both know, dating a shadow would have its own obstacles.
I’m sure you are attempting (very poorly, I may add) to be witty.
Life must be pretty boring at your end.
Good luck in your dating ventures, Miss Leroo. With pick-up lines such as yours, you’re going to need it.
Keep chasing that sun.
Edgar Moffatt.
I click on his profile.
Name
Edgar Moffatt
Height
4ft2
Weight
Snack size
Appearance
Very handsome
Hobbies
Playing with my small dick
Favorite pastime
Watching porn
Profession
Garbologist / dick fondler
Hair color
Bald as a badger
Eyes
Green
Skin
All over my body
A goofy smile crosses my face and I slump back against my headboard as I reread the message.
Keep chasing that sun.
That’s what I’m doing, Edgar Moffatt the dick fondler, that’s what I’m doing.
I sit my head back against the wall as the sweat runs down my chest; it’s around 8 p.m. on Wednesday night and after the longest day in history, I’m in the sauna at the gym.
It’s hot and steamy and I let out a relaxed sigh.
The door opens and Elliot Miles appears with a white towel wrapped around his waist. He’s naked from the waist up and tanned skin and muscles are all I see.
Oh crap.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
He glances up and his step falters as he sees me. “Kathryn.” He takes a seat.
“Hi,” I squeak.
The door opens and a man goes to walk in.
“This is full,” Elliot snaps. “Come back later.”
Chapter 3
I stare straight ahead. Shit . . . Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, don’t look at him.
“I didn’t know you used the gym at work?” he replies casually.
“Uh-huh.” I smile awkwardly as I keep my eyes straight to the front. What is the correct etiquette for saunas? I mean, I’ve been in here a few times already and never once have I had to concentrate on not looking at anyone.
The air is thick and hot and I find a piece of wood on the back of the door and stare at it. Elliot’s presence is all-consuming and taking up the small space; I can almost feel his nakedness under that towel from here.
Look straight ahead, I remind myself.
Don’t give him the satisfaction of drooling over his muscles. Dammit, why does he have to have them?
“How was your day?” he asks.
“Fine thanks.” I smile. “How was yours?”
“It just got a lot better, thank you.”
My brow furrows, what does that mean? Does that mean it got better when he got in here with me? I run my finger in a circle on the wood on the bench beside me, unsure what to say or where to look.
Or what to think.
My mind wants to go to a dark place and glance over at the golden muscles that I can feel taunting me from my peripheral vision.
But I won’t, I’ll continue to stare straight ahead.
“Do you come to the gym often?” I ask to try and fill the awkward void between us.
“Not often enough,” he says. “I have a gym at home and usually run there at night. But it’s late tonight and I know once I get there I will want to relax. I did a quick half an hour on the treadmill.”
I get a vision of him running, and the sweat dripping down his . . .
I grip the seat beneath me with white-knuckle force. “Oh” is all I can force out of my mouth. I glance down at myself: my black bikini top is covering all my bits.
Just.
What must he think?
“Do you always stare at the wall in the sauna?” Elliot asks.
“Well, it’s a square wooden box.” I shrug. “What am I supposed to look at?”
Elliot lets out a low chuckle and I bite my lip to hide my embarrassed smile. He knows that I’m avoiding looking at him with all my might.