He just turned and gave me a long stare, eyebrows raised. “Wow. That was totally unnecessary.”
Oh, no, he did not. I narrowed my eyes. “What was unnecessary?”
“Sarcasm.”
“That was not sarcasm. That was stating the obvious.”
“Whatever.” He went back to his phone, typing again.
Now I was actually amused. That was his best response? I felt triumphant. The victor. “Um, isn’t ‘whatever-ing’ me sarcasm? I thought sarcasm was unnecessary.”
Actually, I thought “whatever” fell more under the category of bratty, but it wasn’t worth pointing that out. I already felt like I’d bested him and that was enough for me.
Without responding, he ripped his coat off. “Damn, it’s hot in here.” He dropped the coat on the floor and tore at the neck of his dress shirt. “Why the hell isn’t anything happening?”
For a split second I felt sorry for him. He was clearly claustrophobic and I knew that wasn’t something you could actually control. Sympathy had me asking, “Do you want me to try calling one of my other friends at the party?”
“What I want is for you to stop talking.”
My sympathy evaporated. Thoughts of strangling him with my scarf returned.
“You’re a jerk,” I said, because hello. If you’re trapped in an elevator with someone, it doesn’t exactly make sense to be rude to them. Though technically I had just broken my own rule, but he had broken it first. So, there.
Now we were both acting like children. Fabulous.
He frowned at me. “What did I do to deserve that? I know being trapped is stressful but you don’t have to start calling me names.”
“You told me to stop talking!”
“Calm down.” He held his hand up like I was being irrational.
There it was again. He was patronizing me.
I pressed my lips tightly together and looked up at the ceiling, praying for composure. Zen. I needed it. Breathe deeply. It was a technique I had perfected working as a chef in the restaurant business. My job was nonstop stress. I knew how to handle a high-pressure situation and I didn’t need this total stranger telling me to calm down.
“I don’t think I’m the one who needs to calm down,” I said, my voice sugary sweet, a hard edge underlying it.
Any man with any sense would recognize the tone of a woman who is seriously, extensively pissed off.
But he clearly was an oblivious idiot.
“We’re both panicking, it’s okay,” he said. “This elevator is hot and no one is responding to us. We’ll get through this.”
Yep. Still clueless.
“Thanks, I feel so much better,” I said in a breathy voice. “You’re such a big, helpful man.” At eighteen I had intended to be an actress. I could bullshit with the best of them.
He eyed me like he couldn’t decide if I was insane or serious. He didn’t seem to catch on to the fact that I was mocking him.
“Come here,” he said, shocking the hell out of me by taking my hand into his.
Uh-oh. He was tugging me closer to him. “What are you doing?” I asked, barely holding on to the helpless female voice.
I did not want to be in his personal space.
“I think we could both use a hug.”
A hug? Oh, hell, no.
I jerked away from him. “What? No, I’m good, thanks.”
He laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t go through with it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I called your bluff. Big, helpful man? You took it too far with that.”
Rolling my eyes, I stepped away. He was right, but I wasn’t going to admit that. “Don’t try me, you never know what I’ll do.”
“Is that so? Will you distract me from the fact that we’re going to suffocate and die in this elevator?”
“It depends how. I can tap-dance for you if you’d like.” I wasn’t serious. I couldn’t tap-dance, and if I did, I wasn’t doing it for him.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You could kiss me.”
I gripped the strap of my purse, assessing him.
If I was offered a million dollars, I might kiss him. Might. I’d have to think about it for a minute or twelve.
But for free? For his amusement?
Hell no.
“Sure,” I said lightly, because he expected me to say no.
For half a heartbeat he looked alarmed, which made me want to laugh. He didn’t want to kiss me any more than I wanted to kiss him.
“That’s very generous of you,” he murmured, shifting closer to me. “I appreciate you wanting to help me out.”
“I’m a very sweet woman,” I said, standing my ground. I was not going to be the first to break away.
“I can tell that about you,” he said, genuine amusement in his eyes. “I said to myself when I got on this elevator, ‘Sean, that is a sweet, gentle woman.’”
Sean.
He looked like a Sean. Strong, like an old-school boxer.
“That’s why my mother named me Isla.” That made exactly zero sense. My name was derived from a Scottish island, but it seemed like a good comeback to a conversation that all the way around was rooted in the ridiculous.
“Isla? That's a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He brushed my hair off of my shoulder and cupped my cheek.
Damn it. One of us needed to stop this.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be the one to lose the game and pull away.
He leaned, crowding into my space. I felt the hard length of his thigh shift against mine.
I was grateful I was still wearing my coat, so there was a barrier between my body and his. He smelled like the woods. And… was that cilantro? What the hell. It was wafting off his fingertips brushing over my cheek.
Neither of us broke eye contact. I could see the challenge in his eyes.
I was sure he saw the same determination in mine.
“Thank you,” I said, to stall.
His mouth was mere inches from mine and we stood there, the tension hanging between us.
I shifted, going up on tiptoes so I was even closer to him, wanting to show him I wasn’t going to back down.
His eyes actually darkened and I saw a spark of lust.
I felt an answering response deep in my body.
We were really going to kiss. We were going to kiss and it was going to be hot as hell.
The elevator groaned and jerked into movement. We both stumbled as the box rose upward.
I grabbed on to his shirt for balance but he was already pulling away.
“Thank God,” he said. “That was a close one.”
Like he’d been saved from the sheer torture of having to kiss me. I dropped my hands and reached for the bar on the wall to steady myself, heart racing.
I should have been very grateful for the interruption, but I felt a mild disappointment that made me instantly angry. I didn’t want to kiss him. Kissing him would be stupid as hell and there was no million dollars being offered to me. It wouldn’t even be a good kiss. How could it be? He was a straight-up jerk.
Pulling my phone out I glanced at the time. We’d been trapped in the elevator for a whopping eight minutes. It had felt like a solid hour.
The doors opened, and in some last-ditch effort at pretending to be a gentleman, Sean gestured for me to go first as he stuck both his foot and his hand over the door to prevent it from closing again. He scooped his coat up off the floor.