please. A boatload.”
Tamara and I had only been friends for the past six years, but as far as I was concerned we’d been separated at birth. She was the sister I’d never had. Other than my mom, she was the only one who seemed to understand where I was coming from. Hell, she always seemed to know what I needed before I did, which was creepy and awesome all at once.
We walked down the street to the small coffee shop that kept the subdivision well caffeinated. She didn’t say anything for a few moments, not until we crossed the street and started into the store.
“So how’s the design implementation coming? You get everything worked out with the crew?”
I didn’t mean to groan quite so loudly, but the damn thing just slipped out. “I’m pretty sure I’m screwing at least half of this up, and I’m never sure which half.”
“Hon, it’s only day three. There’s no way you could have been that terrible.”
“Most of the crew won’t talk to me when the camera isn’t on us. I think they’re waiting for me to fall. And don’t get me started on Fynn.”
Tamara half turned to face me as we waiting in line. “I don’t think it’s anything you’ve done. You know his history.”
After Carl’s little bullying session, I’d made a point of refreshing my memory on what had happened. Yes, the designer of a previous project had sued him and nearly destroyed his business. But that wasn’t my fault. I was determined to prove to everyone that I wasn’t some business-hungry chick, looking for my first big kill. As much as I’d tried to kid around with him, engage him in conversation, Fynn held back. And yet, despite this obvious attempt to keep me at arm’s length, I swore sometimes I’d turn just barely fast enough to catch him looking away.
“Even considering his past, I don’t think he likes me. He won’t stay in the same room as me for more than two minutes.” Though when we had a scene together, his body would inevitably brush against mine. “I can’t help but feel he’s waiting for me to screw up so he can get rid of my sorry ass.”
“I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you. I don’t think getting rid of your ass is what he has in mind.”
My eyes were still bugged out when the barista yelled, “Next!”
“He does not want to have sex with me.”
“Have I ever been wrong before?” She gave me the eyebrow and turned to the counter. “Large coffee. Black, one sugar. And she’ll have a large double, double.”
“And an apple muffin.” Fynn couldn’t be interested in me. Because that would just be good luck I don’t normally possess. “I do like his ass.” The barista paused and stared at me, his eyes going wide. “Not yours, sweetie. Though I’m sure your ass is lovely. I mean Fynn’s.”
“There’s more to a man than his ass.” Tamara bumped her shoulder against mine.
“Yes there is.” I grinned and threw her a wink. “His abs.”
“You’re terrible.”
The barista returned with our drinks and told us how much we owed.
“I’ll get that for them,” said a low male voice behind us. Dread really is a feeling that lives in the pit of your stomach. I’ve grown well acquainted with it over the years. So when I turned around and saw Fynn standing two people behind us, I was prepared for the nauseous uncoiling that occurred.
The barista nodded as he shoved the beverages into our hands and took the order of the woman behind us. Fynn wasn’t smiling.
Yup, I was so going to be sued.
Normally, I’d try to talk myself out of whatever mess I found myself in. Nine times out of ten, that didn’t end well for me. Thankfully, Tamara had the presence of mind to grab me by the arm and pull me out of harm’s way.
“Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Babineau.” She gave him a polite nod as we passed and didn’t stop moving until we were safely on the other side of the door.
“Oh fuck.” My lungs tightened until air was at a premium. I pulled my arm free from Tamara’s and found the nearest wall to lean against. “I can’t believe he heard that.”
“You don’t know exactly what he heard.”
“Enough for him to buy our coffee! I’m so screwed.”
Tamara crossed her arms, carefully holding her coffee to the side. “You’re making too big a deal out of this.”
“I was sexualizing my costar! I’m fairly certain that constitutes harassment.”
“Only if the other person isn’t interested.” She took a sip of her coffee, her gaze slipping to the door. “If we wait here much longer he’ll be coming out.”
Instead of the panic I’d expected, a shiver of arousal wormed its way through my body.
Seeing Fynn was quickly turning into a small obsession of mine. Why I was fascinated with the muscles of his forearms as he’d pick up a hammer, or wanted to follow a trickle of sweat down his cheek and throat with my tongue was beyond me. I mean, yes, he was attractive, but I’ve never really been a lust-at-first-sight kind of girl.
Apparently, there was a first time for everything.
Time officially ran out on me when the shop door was pushed open and Fynn stepped out with a coffee and a sandwich in hand. He didn’t look surprised to see us still there. Standing with his legs spread slightly, Fynn was clearly a man who was ready to handle the situation.
Me, I wasn’t so sure I was up for that yet.
Tamara grinned as she looked between the two of us. “Well, I better get back. Carl wanted to see the revamped design budget by tomorrow morning. I’ll leave the two of you to walk back together.”
“Traitor.” And I threw her my best evil eye for good measure.
The little shit waved at me before she turned tail and strode away.
Which left me standing face-to-face with certain doom. And by certain doom I meant all six feet three inches of an annoyed Fynn. At least I assumed he was annoyed. I didn’t have the proverbial balls to look his way yet.
I could hear him taking a sip of his coffee as he came closer. The sound of him swallowing did strange things to my insides, including making my nipples hard. Being turned on definitely was not going to help the situation.
“I haven’t had a chance to speak much with Tamara. She seems like a good type.” Fynn didn’t sound annoyed. I risked looking up at him, which was probably the worst idea I’d ever had.
The bastard was smirking.
This was the first time since our meeting outside Trinity House that I got the impression I was seeing the real Fynn behind the wall he’d so prettily constructed. Here was the man I could picture going out for beers with the guys, talking a woman up at a party or stripping down to go for a swim. The skin around his eyes crinkled as he continued to look at me
