Qasim, you told Lew you’d break his hand before he could press the send button when he mentioned calling me to ask me to Robb’s party. Why would you say that?”
“I didn’t mean it.” Silently, though, Qasim feared that the threat had been all too real at the time. He lost his taste for the second beer, slamming the fridge door shut to round on her. “You’re an idiot if you don’t know why I wouldn’t want anyone else to take you out.”
“I’m no idiot, Sim.” At least not about that. “I just want to hear you say it.”
“I can’t be your friend.” Qasim pushed off the bar, massaging the bridge of his nose.
Vectra blinked twice in rapid succession. The words were like a slap, yet they hadn’t rendered her speechless. “You can’t be my friend and you don’t want anyone else to be my friend, either?”
Qasim was returning to his desk when her accusation reached his ears. Her voice carried a lost chord, forcing him to turn and face her. He couldn’t speak for simply wanting to look and to fantasize.
The woman had too many male friends who were just friends. While that fact pleased him, it had unfortunately given her the false perception that any man she categorized as such would remain true to the label and want nothing more.
He’d known he was unworthy of the friendship title from the day he met her.
Hell, who could blame me? he thought, fully allowing himself to appreciate her.
He knew she had an unnatural disdain for exercise. The lack of activity seemed to have had no adverse effects on her body, though. Her svelte figure was encased beneath a dress that emphasized shapely legs that he’d dreamed of having wrapped around his back. Her breasts were ones he very much wanted bared to his gaze.
Her dark hair was cropped into a pixie cut. The chic style accentuated the oval beauty of her rich, caramel-toned face. Further illuminating her features was a hauntingly lovely pair of walnut-brown eyes.
“Qasim?” Vectra snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.
She had moved closer, stopping inches before where he’d taken a seat on the edge of his desk. His reflexes were swift, and he captured her wrist, which caused her to bite her lip in an attempt to hide a gasp.
“You have a habit of underestimating your so-called friends,” he said.
“Obviously.” She tried to tug her wrist free of his hold. “Not everyone is like you, Qasim. Some people know what it’s like to be a friend.” She decided to lash out with her words as breaking free of Qasim’s grip was rather out of the question.
He stood, smiling down ill-humoredly from his height advantage. “Some people know what it’s like to be a friend, Vec, but I don’t think you have a clue what it’s like for a man to be friends with a woman when he can’t be.”
He released her so suddenly that Vectra stumbled a little. She let the momentum propel her toward the chair where her tote bag lay. Grabbing a handle, she made it to the office door and left it swinging open in the wake of her departure.
Qasim returned to his desk once Vectra had stormed out. He braced one hand on the edge to support his weight, but he refused to sit.
He’d hurt her—deeply. While it hadn’t been his proudest moment, he hoped she’d stay away from him as a result. He wasn’t a complete dunce; he knew she was attracted to him and sensed it had occurred to her that he knew.
A few months ago, he’d decided to pull back. She was pissed at him now, but the circumstances of their current situation were far more favorable than the one she’d have to deal with when she discovered how in over her head she could be with him. The very last thing he wanted was for her to fear him. She surely would if she realized how deep his attraction to her really went.
There was a quick knock and a second’s hesitation before the office door opened a sliver. Minka stuck her head in. “Is it safe in here?” she called, her small round face carrying an uncertain smile. “What’d you do? Vectra looked ready to kill somebody when she walked out of here.”
“I told her the truth.” Qasim claimed the big chair behind his desk. “She’s got no idea what it’d mean to be ‘friends’ with a man like me.”
“And I’m guessing you let it end there and didn’t bother to tell her what you really meant?”
“I don’t want her afraid of me, Mink.”
“And because of that, you’re not willing to give her the benefit of the doubt?” Minka spread her hands apart in a what-the-heck gesture. “So you don’t like the idea of other men around her. A lot of women would find that an attractive trait.”
“Would you?” he challenged.
Minka shrugged. “I...I think I’d enjoy it. Yeah.” She sighed, smiling smugly. “I’d feel secure, treasured, as long as the guy didn’t get too weird about it.” She stopped when Qasim ticked a finger in her direction as though she’d said something magical.
“That’s it. I don’t know how weird I’d get considering the fact that yesterday I threatened a very good friend for just wanting to pick up the phone and call her.”
“Ouch... Not good.” Minka scrunched her nose.
“This is worse. He told her all about it.” Qasim closed his eyes, rested his head against the chair’s high back. “He’s one of those ‘honesty is the best policy’ folks.”
“Sometimes it is.” Minka smiled. “With things being more out in the open, she won’t let you hide behind the ‘we can’t be friends and that’s that’ argument.”
Qasim worked the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I mean, what’s the problem?” Minka claimed a spot on one of the sofa arms. “Vectra’s gorgeous, funny, smart. The men who work for you make a point of stopping by the office when they know she’s in the building.”
The news didn’t set well with Qasim if the muscle flexing wildly along his jaw was any indication. He lowered his hand, letting his elbow rest along one of the chair’s wide arms. He looked toward Minka with keen interest and much humor. “Is that why Will really stopped by?”
“No.” Minka laughed. “He really does need those signatures.” She reached for the folder she’d brought in with her. “It’s probably a good thing that he decided to drop by.” She went to hand her boss the paperwork. “It’s become a lot more expensive to host charity events these days.”
“Hmph.” Qasim opened the folder. “When there’s a charity that brings in millions, everyone wants their cut.”
“So you agree it’s a waste of money?”
“A waste of money for a good cause,” Qasim countered, sleek brows united to form a studious frown.
“So who says we have to waste it? Why
