The reality had turned out worse than my imagination. At least I got her to agree to see me. But what if she decides not to show and leaves me hanging?
I push the thought from my mind, refusing to acknowledge it for even a minute.
“Another drink, sir?” The waitress appears, her gaze full of sympathy. She probably thinks I’ve been stood up.
Hell, I’ve never been stood up in my life. “I’m fine,” I mutter.
“Perhaps you’d like to order dinner? An appetizer, maybe?” She sounds hopeful and I’m beyond ready to crush her dreams.
Shaking my head, I glare at her. “I’ll wait a few more minutes.”
She takes off after flashing me a wan smile, leaving me to brood. If Ivy doesn’t show, I can hire someone else to do this job. It wouldn’t be a problem, there’s a goddamn list of designers who would give up their first born to work with Bancroft.
But damn it, I trust her. I want her. And not just for her amazing design skills.
She isn’t just Ivy. Could I really fall for her? Why else would I act like such an anxious ass**le? This woman has me so twisted up in knots I’m ready to do anything to have her back in my life.
Anything.
Scowling, I glare at the door, as if that’ll make her magically appear. I’m thinking like a chick but I can’t deny it. I want her with me all the damn time. It’s scary how bad I need her. Trying to ignore her didn’t work. I went almost an entire month without contacting her, but she’s all I could think about. The moment I get into the city, I’m reaching for the phone, demanding that she meet me.
I remember how put out she sounded on the phone, her voice full of irritation. The first indication I’m most likely going to screw this up.
Hell. I cannot screw it up.
And then there’s the stupid bet. Matt sends me the occasional email asking on my dating situation. Hell, he haunts my Facebook page, probably just waiting for me to change my status from “single” to “in a relationship”.
As if I ever would do that. I know his ass is watching. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
The front door opens, letting in a gust of cold air that chills my skin, sends a rush of awareness through me that nearly steals my breath. She enters the dimly lit restaurant, windblown and gorgeous, her curvy body covered by a black coat. I greedily drink her in as Ivy pushes wild strands of long dark brown hair away from her face, her gaze searching the room before those pretty hazel eyes light upon me.
I work to keep my expression neutral, my mouth curving into a subtle closed-lip smile, but inside I burn.
For her.
She smiles in return, though it’s faint, and the sight of it is like a punch to the solar plexus. I wait impatiently as the hostess takes Ivy’s coat before leading her to my table.
The way Ivy moves captivates me. Sinful and sexy yet with an innocent air, her hips sway as she heads toward me, the skirt of her black dress swishing about her legs. The dress covers her completely, but I know exactly what it’s hiding beneath the clingy fabric. All I can think about is slipping my hands beneath her skirt so I can touch her thighs. I remember the first time I touched them, how they trembled. How smooth her skin was . . .
“Sorry I’m late,” she says as she sits quickly, not giving me time to stand and greet her like I want to, with a hug. I wanted another chance to get my hands on her again, however briefly.
Ivy smiles up at the hostess as she pushes the chair in for her before hurrying away. “My meeting took much longer than I anticipated,” she explains apologetically. Always polite, though I see the strain around her mouth, in her entire expression. She’s uncomfortable being with me. I get it.
I don’t like it, but I get it.
“Trying to keep me on my toes?” I raise my brows and she frowns.
“I didn’t do it on purpose, Archer.” She exhales shakily. “I’m not interested in playing games with you.”
“I don’t want to play games with you either, Ivy,” I say. God, I wish I could reach out and touch her. Rest my hand on hers. Tell her how much I miss her.
She sounds breathless, which makes my body twitch. Reminding me how breathless she’d been the last time I saw her—naked. How she begged for more when I had her pinned beneath me, her body shaking as I made her come with my name falling from her lips.
Having her sitting in front of me after not seeing her for a month is like a shock to my system, leaving me tongue-tied. Frozen. She picks up the menu, oblivious to my dazed stupor, and smiles when the waitress approaches, ordering a glass of wine.
“Want another beer, sir?” The server’s cheerfulness grates.
“Yeah,” I bite out, scowling at the waitress just before she hurries away. I catch Ivy sending me a secret smile as she shakes her head. Makes me wonder if she thinks I’m some sort of joke or something. The way she looks at me, like I amuse her.
Better than sending me the cold glare of death, which I suppose I deserve after how I’ve treated her since we were together.
“You look good,” I say, my rough voice startling her from her quiet perusal of the menu.
She flicks her gaze up, those pretty eyes meeting mine. “It’s . . . nice to see you too, Archer.” Her voice is the stuff of my wet dreams, low and melodic. “Have you already ordered?”
“I was waiting for you.” Damn, does she think I’m a total rude bastard or what?
Most likely—you are, after all.
“Oh. Well isn’t that sweet of you.” She checks out the menu again, biting her lip as she looks over her options. The restaurant’s packed, the buzz of conversation a low hum that falls away the longer I watch her.