“I know you don’t have long for lunch, so let’s talk about tonight.” His tone changed on the last word.
“Is that a polite way of saying you need to go?”
“No, I’m benched, so I have all the time in the world. And you know I like to take it slow.”
His husky drawl sent liquid heat to pool low in her belly, but she wasn’t going to let him have all the fun. “Not last night. You went for it hard and fast.” She let her voice drop low. “I like it both ways.”
He groaned, and she allowed herself a satisfied smirk.
“Sugar, you better watch out because I’m about to drive back there, lock us in your office, and do it both ways, so you can make up your mind which one you like better.”
A vision of Luke storming through her office door with that focused look in his eyes made her squirm on her chair. “Let me know when you’re leaving so I can clear my desk off.” Now she conjured up the image of herself sitting on her desk with her skirt up around her waist and Luke between her thighs. Her panties grew damp.
“When do you get off work?” His voice was a harsh rasp.
“Six.”
“Damn. Five more hours. How do you feel about meeting me at my place? Trevor is no longer an impediment.”
She’d wanted that, but now the problems it raised struck her. Luke’s home happened to be her workplace. So which one took precedence?
He spoke into the silence. “If it makes you uncomfortable, we’ll go back to the Ritz-Carlton.”
But she wanted to see his home, to see him in his home. “No, it’s fine. I was just thinking about logistics.”
“Come in the private entrance. The security cameras back there are monitored by Ron’s guys, not the building’s. Spindle won’t know.”
It wasn’t just Orin. Everyone who worked at the Pinnacle gossiped about what went on in the building. It was like a small town, only vertical. Could she really keep her visit to Luke’s apartment a secret?
Maybe not, but she only had one more night with him, and she was darned if she was going to ruin it with second guesses. “What’s the code?”
He recited a string of letters and numbers. “Text me when you’re on your way.” His voice was husky when he added, “I’ll be waiting for you in the elevator. We can get started on the ride up.”
Memories of being pressed between Luke’s body and her door—two hard surfaces that felt entirely different—exploded in her mind. “You don’t waste any time, cowboy.”
“When the clock is running, you have to keep moving the ball.”
Luke lowered his phone with a grin. Tonight was going to be a low-key evening at his home, because he’d planned a blowout of a date for tomorrow.
Saturday, he was going to fly her to the mountains of West Virginia to dine at the Aerie, a restaurant so exclusive he’d had to call in two favors to get the reservations. He had booked a private room so no one could photograph them. And they would have plenty of time to make love as his jet sped them there and back before the game-night curfew.
Since he couldn’t ask her to wait for him, he was going to make sure he left a big impression on her. It would make her future dates with other men pale by comparison so she’d still be free when he could come back into her life. At least, that was the plan.
When the phone chimed again, he checked the caller ID and blew out an exasperated breath. How did Gavin Miller know when Luke was in a good mood so the writer could destroy it? “What is it, Miller?”
“And hello to you, too, Archer.”
“I’m at work, so cut to the chase.”
“What exactly does a benched quarterback work on?” Miller didn’t even try to make his question sound like anything other than a barb.
“The same thing a blocked writer works on.”
“Bastard. But I walked right into that.” Miller’s tone was flat rather than angry. “I called to see what you thought of Trainor’s Chloe. The real deal or a mere fling?”
“I guess we’ll find out in a year.”
“And what about you and your pretty concierge? Real or a fling?”
So Miller had seen the photo. “Do you believe everything you read in the gossip rags?”
“I’ll be drummed out of the fraternal order of writers for saying this, but a picture is worth a thousand words. You and the lady were holding hands.”
“Camouflage. It keeps the autograph hounds away if it looks like you’re on a date. She was being paid to give me a cultural tour of New York. I aspire to be as suave as you.”
Miller barked out a laugh. “I don’t believe a single thing you just said, my boyo. Except the part about my being suave.”
Thank God he’d kept Miranda away from the gala and Miller’s insatiable prying. “Miranda works for the building where I live. That’s all.” The lie came easily, even though he was visualizing her in the elevator with her legs wrapped around his waist and her back against the wall as he surged into her. His cock began to harden.
“Ah, yes, that pesky rule of yours about no women during the football season. I thought you might put it on hold while you’re benched.” Miller injected a question into his tone.
“A week isn’t long enough to find the right woman.”
“Not a believer in love at first sight, then? All that ice around your heart takes time to melt.”