Tycoon

She turns, biting down on her lower lip. “Not really.” She laughs nervously, then raises her eyes to meet mine as if it takes great effort to do so. “But you might enjoy helping me lug some boxes at the warehouse.”

“Do you need someone to lug boxes at the warehouse?” I ask.

“Actually, yes. Our usuals are spending Easter weekend with their families, and with the upcoming sales—”

“What time do you get in?” I interrupt.

Her eyes drop to my mouth. “Huh?”

“My eyes are up here.”

She pulls her eyes up, blushing again.

“What time do you get in to lug boxes?” I insist.

“5 a.m.”

“I’ll be there.”

I grab her jaw and kiss it, and she inhales sharply as I do. I smile and walk away, hearing her call back, “Thank you. But IT’S NOT A DATE!”

Bryn

I wake up with a throbbing head and pray that I didn’t say what I am pretty sure I said to Aaric last night. About my V card. About possibly wanting to have given it to him.

Ohmigod.

I’m not getting a loan now.

I’m not getting another meeting ever again; I’m sure of it.

I need a distraction or I’ll do nothing all day but kick myself in the foot for last night. So I quickly shower and change, ready to cajole Sara to go out with me, when Sara raps on my door.

“Bryn? Christos is outside looking for you.”

“What?” I open the door, blinking, and right behind her, standing in my living room…

is Aaric.

He looks incredible. He’s freshly showered, wearing black jeans and a black, long-sleeve crewneck, his features chiseled and perfect.

“Checking up to see if I’m working?” I tease.

I’m just nervous that he’s here.

“That’s right.” He winks and plunges his hands into his pockets, watching me. “Want to go for a walk?”

He picks up two Starbucks coffees from the counter and brings me one, his gaze sparkling.

I swallow, hating that he’s probably remembering everything I said last night. I realize Sara is gaping, and I take the coffee nervously and add, “I’d love to take a walk.”

He heads to the door and opens it for me. “Nice meeting you,” he tells Sara, and Sara shoots me a wide-eyed “my heart!” look.

I shut the door quickly behind me and we head downstairs, then outside, to a gorgeous fall morning.

“We won’t talk about last night,” I warn as we head out of my apartment.

He shoots me a puzzled look, then hisses under his breath, “Shit. Something happened? I can’t believe I missed it.” He drags a hand across his jaw as if truly disappointed, and I catch on pretty fast.

I laugh, relieved. “Thank you.”

His smile deepens for a moment. He sips from his coffee. “So, how are you liking Manhattan?”

I scan the busy streets as we head to SoHo. “I couldn’t sleep the first two weeks. I felt over-stimulated, all the traffic, the pedestrians, the noise, things to do, the lights and the life.” I grin. “It’s a jungle.”

He winks down at me.

“Not for the faint of heart,” I continue.

He just smiles.

“But now, I’m becoming addicted,” I add. “I can’t go to sleep without walking the streets every night. I’m enjoying the cool evenings. Now, I find the city exciting.” I eye him. “Do you ever miss home?”

He stares thoughtfully ahead, the sun glinting in his hair. “Austin never felt like home to me. I suppose because we moved there for only a few years—no reason for me to stay there after Mother passed.”

“I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry you left.”

“Yeah, well.” He tosses his coffee into the trash, shrugging casually and then smiling, slow and wolfish. “You were one of the few reasons I’d hoped to stay.”

“But…?” I prod.

“But you didn’t deserve some grease monkey.” He shoots me a stern look, as if I’m to blame for his success. “You missed me,” he states.

“So much I couldn’t sleep at night,” I exaggerate, rolling my eyes.

“So much you’re blushing right now. So you did miss me?” He looks pleased.

I laugh. “Well, I’m blushing because it’s true, I missed you. I bet you hardly thought of me after leaving.”

“You’d lose that bet.” His voice lowers, becoming husky.

Thudthudthud.

I hide my reaction by taking a sip of my coffee. And then another, and one more.

We end up heading to Chelsea, walking along the streets, window shopping as we talk.

I pause and peer into the art galleries, admiring the paintings inside. “I’d miss New York now, if I had to go back. Even though I arrived during the summer, the heat, the smelly trashcans, you can’t get over a city like this.”

“The stench sucks in summer. Better in fall.”

“Everything is better in fall. Even the fashion.” I motion to the passersby. “I love the fashion here—it’s so varied.”

He follows my hand motion, and I pray he doesn’t notice the way I’m trying to divert my attention—away from how approachable he feels right now, so tall and warm, so infinitely Aaric Christos. My what if.

“I typically don’t notice,” he says, eyeing me. He stops walking and rakes his gaze over me, his eyes narrowing even more as his lips curve playfully, his quiet gaze telling me he definitely noticed what I’m wearing now.