We got naked together. We had sex. And he acts like it never happened. I do too, because how else should I handle it? Confront him?
Hey, what the hell was that night all about anyway? I felt the earth move and thought maybe . . . you felt the same?
Can’t go there. No matter how badly I want to. And wasn’t he the one who called it a mistake?
Yeah, so not going to bring any of that up to him. He’d rather forget. Just like I would.
Liar.
I wish he hadn’t called. Just hearing his voice works me up. Archer Bancroft is dangerous for my well-being and I know it. Delicious. Wicked. Appealing. Wrong. At least, he’s wrong for me.
“I have to go, Archer.” I keep my tone brusque as my gaze lands on my computer screen. My to-do list mocks me, it’s so long. And my calendar app dings, reminding me I have an appointment with a client in thirty minutes.
Which means I need to leave now if I want to make it on time.
“Listen, I’m in town and I want to see you,” he says, shocking me. I didn’t expect him to say that. “Let me take you to dinner tonight and I’ll explain everything. How about we go to Spruce?” He refers to an ultrapopular restaurant not too far from my office. I’ve been there before and it’s amazing. Amazingly intimate too—the perfect restaurant for a date. Not that we’re going on a date.
Yeah, right.
“I’ll pick you up at your office, we can have a few drinks first, then dinner,” he continues.
“No,” I say vehemently, rendering him completely silent. I’d bet a million dollars not many women utter that word in his presence, but the very last thing I want is Archer invading my private workspace, spreading his devastating charm all over it.
I really don’t need that reminder lingering around long after he’s gone. Some things should remain sacred from the Archer effect. “How about I meet you at the restaurant?”
He’s silent for a moment. Like he doesn’t approve of my suggestion. As if I care. “That should work,” he finally says, his words clipped.
“Is seven too late?” I glance at my calendar, see that I have one last meeting with a new client at five-thirty to go over wallpaper samples, but the restaurant he suggested isn’t too far from the office. I could probably make it on time.
“I’m staying the night in the city so seven’s perfect.” He pauses, the silence heavy with unrecognizable . . . tension. “It’ll be good to see you again, Ivy.”
Clutching the phone tight, I close my eyes for the briefest moment, all those unwanted memories bombarding me. The way he kissed me, the taste of his lips. How he’d touched me, his big hands everywhere, settling between my legs, teasing me while he murmured the hottest, sexiest words I’d ever heard.
And that was only the moment out on the terrace. Never mind later, when we ended up naked in a bed. I can’t even go there. Not now, with his velvety deep voice in my ear.
“Seven o’clock at Spruce,” I confirm, opening my eyes to glare unseeingly at the computer. “See you then.”
I hang up before he can say another word, proud of myself. Women don’t hang up on Archer either. Hell, no one really hangs up on him. He’s a force to be reckoned with.
And now he calls me out of nowhere declaring he needs me—please. He’s stringing me along, I’m sure. Why, I haven’t a clue.
But when do my past experiences with Archer ever make sense?
Deciding my client can wait a few minutes, I bring up Google and type in Archer’s name, waiting breathlessly as a list of recent articles pop up. Talk of Hush and how he made it such a huge success. One article written a week ago catches my interest, about the expansion of the Hush brand and how he’s refurbishing a location in Calistoga.
Frowning, I click on the link, reading the few details they have about the new Calistoga spot. He never mentioned it during the phone call. Or when we were last together and we were actually at Hush. He’d been so proud showing me everything. You think he would’ve at least mentioned a new location.
So why didn’t he tell us about it?
Weird.
I close out Google and gather my things, my mind awhirl with what I read. Was this the job he referred to, the one he so desperately needs me for? All logical thought flowing through my brain is telling me not to bother meeting him. Cancel via text with no explanation. He would totally deserve it.
Curiosity rules me though, it always has. There’s no way I can pass this dinner up. Despite how difficult it will be, sitting across from him for hours in a dark, intimate restaurant, gazing adoringly at his beautiful face. Wondering yet again how stupid could I be, having sex with him. Nursing this renewed crush of old that can go absolutely, positively nowhere.
I’m pitiful.
Archer
I GLANCE AT my watch for what feels like the millionth time, wondering where the hell Ivy is. She’s close to twenty minutes late, and I know for a fact she’s ridiculously punctual.
With the exception of tonight when she’s meeting me. Shit.
Drumming my fingers atop the white tablecloth in a steady rhythm, I glare at the entrance to the restaurant. I hate it when people make me wait. In business, I flat out don’t tolerate it. That this woman I’ve known since she was a gangly teenager with a mouthful of metal leaves me waiting almost desperately for her arrival blows my mind.
And rarely is my mind blown. Funny, how the one person who keeps doing it on a regular basis is Ivy.
She’s angry with me. I could hear it in her voice when I spoke to her on the phone. It had taken me two days to work up the courage to call her. Like a complete wuss, I rehearsed that conversation in my mind a thousand times.