Читать книгу Call On Me - Roni Loren, Roni Loren - Страница 10

Oakley smiled to herself as Pike rattled off timelines and tasks in between bites of calzone. He’d been all business since they’d sat down in the back corner of the little dive restaurant. Her tactic had worked. It usually did. Childless men found out she was a mom and ran away like their ass was on fire.

Pike seemed to be no exception. Since she’d informed him that she had a daughter, he’d turned off the flirt. A small, selfish part of her was disappointed. Not that she had any interest in pursuing anything with anyone right now, especially with someone like him, but it had been kind of heady getting that kind of attention thrown her way. If nothing else, it had reminded her that the sexual part of herself wasn’t totally dead. Even now, that warm energy hummed through her as she surreptitiously watched Pike lick a dollop of red sauce off his thumb. He had a pouty bottom lip that would look feminine if not for the hard angle of his jaw and the scruff. She kind of wanted to bite it—see if it felt as plump as it looked.

He glanced up, caught her staring, and smiled. “So, wanna screw in the bathroom?”

She startled and stiffened, instantly yanked out of her less-than-PG thoughts. “What?”

He leaned back in his chair, vague confusion on his face. “I asked if you wanted to keep working in that back room? We could rehearse at the studio once they’re close to being ready to record. But until then, it’s probably more trouble than it’s worth to cart everyone over there. It’s not that big of a place.”

“Rehearse in the back room?” she repeated, running the words back in her head to make sense of them. “Oh, right, yes, that’s fine. I’m sorry. I thought you said something else.”

She eyed the small Bellini she’d ordered with her meal. Maybe that had been a bad idea. She was hearing things now.

Screw in the bathroom? How the hell had she gotten that out of what he’d said? Of course, now all she could think of was him doing just that—taking her by the elbow and leading her to that dark alcove at the back of the restaurant, pushing her up against that wall with the faded Italian flag on it, and putting his hands all over her. She licked her top lip, tasting the sweet remnants of her drink. Pull it together, woman.

Apparently, once her libido had been brave enough to peep its head out, it had decided it was Groundhog Day and needed to run around, declaring spring was coming early. She hated to break the news, but nothing and no one was coming anytime soon.

“What did you think I said?” Pike took a long sip from his drink, his snake-charmer eyes never leaving hers.

She followed suit, hoping the fruity drink would cool off more than her throat. “Doesn’t matter.”

His lips twitched. “You’re all red.”

“I think it’s the Bellini. I don’t drink very often.”

“No way.” His expression turned smug. “You thought I said something dirty, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” She smoothed her napkin in her lap, trying to loosen the tightness in her voice. “No. Why would I think that? You’ve been very professional since we got here—which I appreciate, by the way.”

His gaze slid lazily down her body, like butter melting over toast, and goddamn it all to hell, she could feel her nipples go hard and obvious beneath her bra. No wonder he’d figured it out. Her body was waving all kinds of flags in his face. Hey! Over here! Horny girl, booth eight!

“I am capable of being professional, you know,” he said, but his tone was all sex and sin. “I’m also more than happy to turn that off when the occasion calls for it. So why don’t you tell me what you thought you heard and why it’s gotten you all flushed and nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

He grinned.

Dammit. She schooled her face into a stoic expression. “The music is too loud in here. I thought you propositioned me to defile the restroom.”

His eyebrow ring twitched. “Now you’re just trying to turn me on with those big, stiff words of yours.”

All she heard was big and stiff at first, but she managed to rein in her temporary insanity. “We’re so not going to do this.”

“Well, probably not here, you’re right. I saw those bathrooms. But—”

“No, I mean, any of this. Flirting. Teasing. Whatever this is.”

He leaned onto his forearms, looking all too pleased that he’d gotten a confession out of her. “You got a guy?”

“No,” she said before she could get wise and fib.

“Then why can’t we do this?”

“Because I’m not interested.”

“Liar.”

She huffed. “Are you always this cocky?”

“No, it’s dialed down right now. I can get way worse.”

She stirred her drink. “Not. Possible.”

His lips spread into a menacing smile. “Challenge accepted.”

“No, that’s not—”

But he was already getting up from his side of the booth. He slid smoothly into the spot next to her on the cracked vinyl seat. He put his arm along the back of the booth, near to touching her, and leaned in close. “I dialed it back because what I could’ve said was how if you heard what you heard, it must’ve been on your mind already. That those pictures must be there in your head. Were we in a stall? Or bold as you please up against a wall?”

“Stop,” she said softly, somehow frozen in place, the clean scent of his shampoo mixing in with the heavy oregano smell of the restaurant and making her head spin.

“So that was it, huh? Against the wall where anyone could’ve walked up and seen? That would’ve been hot. Legs wrapped around my hips. I could’ve unpeeled all these layers you’ve wrapped yourself in.” He touched the collar of her blouse but not skin. “I could’ve also said that I saw the want in your eyes before I knew what question you’d thought I’d asked. That your body jumped to attention like I’d stroked you. That you can tell me no and to shut the fuck up. But you can’t tell me that you’re not interested because I can see that truth all over you.”

She swallowed hard, fighting her body’s response as he let his gaze drift down and over her curves. No way was she going to let him get to her like this. She did this for a living. She talked dirty to men every damn night and they talked dirty back. But never had words rushed through her system like these. Every part of her was now achingly aware of just how long it’d been since she’d let a man touch her. But there was no way she’d allow herself to act on it with him. She cleared her throat.

“Does this usually work for you? A little dirty talk whispered in a woman’s ear and she’s all over you? Or maybe you just tell them you’re in a band and that’s enough.” She turned to send Pike a frosty look. “Back off, Mr. Ryland. You’ve entered a restricted area.”

His eyes flared with heat, like her attitude only turned him on more, but he moved back and gave her space. “If you think that’s dirty talking, you’ve been seriously deprived.”

She pointed. “Back to your side.”

He raised his palms. “Not a problem. All I want to know is why not?”

Because attraction clearly wasn’t the issue. Her traitor body had announced that loud and clear to him.

“Because this is my job, and this project is important to me. I’m not going to muddy the waters by crossing any lines with you. Plus, I’m a mom.”

“So? I’ve heard rumors that moms get lives, too.”

No, they didn’t. Not really. Not when there was no dad in the picture, two jobs, and a kid with special needs.

She barely resisted rolling her eyes. “Come on, Pike. I know we don’t know each other yet, but why in God’s name would you come barking up this tree? The groupie business running low? You’ve got to have women with much simpler lives who want to play the hookup game with a big-time drummer.”

His jaw tensed, expression darkening.

She sighed. This was probably about ego, challenge, and all that male bullshit. If she let him take her to the bathroom and do what he suggested, he’d be over it by the time he got home. And then everything would be weird between them for the rest of the project. She needed to clear this air and move on. Tessa had told her this afternoon that there could be a promotion in her future—project coordinator. A job that would allow her to quit the night gig. But it hinged on how well she did on this major project. She wasn’t going to let some misguided attraction on her part or bruised ego on his part thwart that.

“Look, Pike. Yes, there’s attraction. Maybe an inappropriate thought or two crossed my mind, but this has to stay professional. I don’t have time or interest in anything outside of that.”

Especially with a musician. Hell. No.

His gaze held hers for a moment longer, and she almost got lost in the mix of ambers and greens in his hazel eyes, but finally he dropped the eye contact and slid out of her side of the booth. “Okay, then. Let’s get back to hammering out a rehearsal schedule. I have to be honest, your drummer needs more than a little work.”

Oakley seemed startled by his quick acquiescence and shift in subject, but he’d heard the message with ringing clarity. If he’d learned anything in life, it was how to not linger where he wasn’t wanted. And really, Oakley had been one hundred percent right. What business did he have chasing a woman like her?

She lived a normal life, had responsibilities, and a child to worry about. She’d want some guy who fit into that—a nine to fiver with a steady job who played golf on Saturdays and went to church on Sundays. A guy who wouldn’t show up at her place and make all the people in suburbia whisper about his weird haircut and his inked skin.

This was why he tended to stick to the twentysomethings who hung around after shows. Those women knew what they were getting into with him—sought it out. He was the thrill. The dare. The shocking story to tell to their girlfriends after they’ve settled down behind their white picket fences and are remembering those crazy days right out of college.

Oakley was a grown-up. She knew he had nothing to offer her beyond a hot night or two. Smart.

Didn’t make him want her less.

“So just like that, you’re going to drop it?” she asked, not answering his question about rehearsal schedules.

He shrugged. “I always respect a no.”

Her gaze shifted to her food. “Well, that’s something.”

The words had been muttered to herself, but he’d heard them well enough. He frowned. “I’m not going to force anything, Oakley. Contrary to popular belief, I’m pretty harmless.”

She glanced up, sardonic smile returning. “Now there’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

He pointed at her. “Nope. I’m a lot of things. But not a liar.”

“Oh, really? Mr. Honesty, huh?”

“Try me.” He took a bite of his calzone.

Her Bellini must’ve been fully settling in because she asked him something he never would’ve expected. “So have you really done it in a public bathroom before?”

He smirked. “A few times. Taking a chance in a place where you might get caught can be really hot. Though, bathrooms aren’t my preference. And never, ever try in one of those portable ones at music festivals. Learned that one the hard way.”

She blanched. “I don’t even want to pee in those.”

“Wise girl. So what about you?”

“Me?”

“Ever in a bathroom?” He picked a pepperoni off his plate and popped it in his mouth.

Her gaze skated away. “Once. But it was one of those private single ones.”

Based on her tone that was not a pleasant memory. “If there’s no chance of discovery, you only get partial credit.”

Her expression turned grim. “Believe me. That whole relationship was about trying not to get discovered. I should get all kinds of points.”

He wiped his mouth on his napkin. “How so? Married guy?”

“God, no. I would never.” She looked back to him, guarded. “I was young. He was a lot older.”

“Ahh. I’ve had one of those, too.”

Her mouth flatlined at that. “How nice for you.”

The shift in demeanor surprised him. Only after a few seconds did he catch why she’d sent such a cold front his way. “Oh, shit. No, that’s not what I meant. I haven’t been with too young of a girl. I’m not a creep. All I meant was that I had one of those forbidden relationships when I was young. Lost my virginity to one of my high school teachers.”

She lowered her glass without sipping. “Seriously?”

“Looking back, I realize it was a pretty messed-up thing on her part. But at the time, I was all for it.”

He’d been young and dumb and horny as shit. His history teacher had been hot and still in her twenties. And he’d much preferred stopping by her house on the way home to get his education on the female form instead of going back to his own family’s chaos.

He laughed when he saw Oakley’s still-shocked expression. “And hey, let’s pick Things You Shouldn’t Tell Complete Strangers for five hundred, Alex.”

A small smile finally broke through. “Sorry. It’s just, I’m a mom. I’m horrified at the thought of a teacher taking advantage of a child.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, I know now it was screwed up. Back then, I thought I was the man.”

“I see life hasn’t cured you of that last condition yet.”

He cocked an eyebrow, enjoying this relaxed version of her. Alcohol was good for the uptight receptionist. “Touché, Ms. Easton.”

“See, now you say the Ms. thing and it sounds dirty.”

He smirked. “She let me call her by her first name. But be warned, I can make anything sound dirty.”

“I’m noticing that. It’s quite a gift.”

“Absolutely.” He had the suspicion that she’d have that gift, too, if she wanted it. Just listening to that low, husky voice talking about mundane things had made him hot earlier. But having an R-rated conversation with her now—well, he was halfway to hard already. If they kept it up, he’d have to order the cannoli just to prolong the time he could keep his lower half hidden under the table.

But before he could ask her anything else, she excused herself to go to the restroom. He asked her if she wanted him to join her, but she rolled her eyes and told him, “No, it’s only going to be me and the pride of Italy.”

He watched her walk away, enjoying the way her black slacks highlighted the curve of her ass. She had a nice swaying walk—one that would look downright decadent without the business clothes in the way. His phone rang, interrupting his appreciation of the scenery.

He reached for it without looking and slid his thumb across the screen to answer. “Yeah?”

“Uh …” asked a hesitant male voice. “Is this Sa—”

The phone cut out for a second. “What? I’m having trouble hearing you.”

“Is this Sasha?”

“Who? No. I think you’ve got the wrong number, man.”

“No, I mean, it’s not. I have it programmed on my phone.” There was a pause as if the guy was checking his screen, then he was back. “It’s the right number. I reserved a call at eight. Am I going to get charged for these minutes? Where’s Sasha?”

Pike frowned and pulled the phone away from his ear to check the caller ID, but when he did, he realized the phone in his hand didn’t have a black cover like his. It had a bright blue one. Shit. He’d answered Oakley’s phone.

But the dude was asking for a Sasha and the caller ID said Private Number. He put the phone back to his ear. “Wires must be crossed, dude. Wrong number.”

“No, but—”

Pike hung up the call and dropped the phone back onto the table next to his own. Same brand and model. Same standard ring. Motherfucker. If Oakley realized he’d answered her phone, she’d be pissed. And have good reason to be.

But it had been a wrong number, so maybe it wasn’t too big a deal. It hadn’t been some boyfriend calling or a family member. Nothing that could cause any problems. Maybe he should just mention it to her, and they could laugh off the mix-up. It was a weird enough call.

The guy had wanted a Sasha … who he’d reserved at eight and had on speed dial … and would get charged minutes for.

He snorted when all the information locked together. Shit, had he intercepted some random 900-number call? Hilarious. Oakley would get a kick out of that.

Oakley hustled up to the booth, a frantic edge to her movements. “We’ve got to go.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I just saw what time it is. I can’t believe we’ve been here that long.” She reached for her purse, which she’d left on her seat. “I have to get back home—like now.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Pike said, pulling money from his wallet to toss on the table. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed either.

“Tessa said she’d cover this. I have the company card.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re in a hurry. I’ve got it.” He scooted out of the booth.

Oakley’s phone rang again. Private Caller flashed on the screen.

Oakley’s gaze darted toward it, slight panic crossing her face. She swiped the phone from the table. “Crap, I need to take this. Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

“But—”

She turned in a flurry and put the phone to her ear, leaving Pike standing there in confusion. But before she got far enough away, he heard the hello, the name Sasha, and the utterly cock-hardening downshift in her voice.

He plunked back down in the booth.

What.

The.

Hell.