Chapter 5

W ait, hold on now, what did he just say? Did he…oh my god, he did. I have nothing, there are literally no words to be found in my brain, why, oh why, did I ever start this crazy pizza suggestion?

"That was a joke," Rafe finally says lightly at my dumbfounded reaction.

"Yeah…of course," I state.

Rafe sent me a look and his entire demeanor changes, laughter completely fills his being, and his shoulders shake with it. "A strip club? The best pizza in town can be found at a strip club…and you know about it how?"

"Friends," I offer, biting my bottom lip and his gaze goes straight to it.

"You didn't…no there's no way you were a stripper," he says as a half-intrigued, half-skeptical look crosses his face.

"No, I wasn't a stripper…I was a waitress," I blurt out, slapping my hand over my mouth absolutely mortified that I just said that to my new boss of all people who is, did I mention, gorgeous.

"Ah…that explains it," is all he says and I'm now the one who's intrigued.

"Explains what?" I ask cautiously.

"Your complete and utter ignorance of how men look at you," he said. "At first, I thought it was because of the ring on your finger. That your…relationship with the man who placed it there was so strong that no one else existed for you, but a waitress…yes that does explain it."

Again, completely vacant of words, how do you form a sentence when a man just says something like that to you?

Rafe is still staring at me, not in the way the men at the club did but with real interest, in me , not my body, or anything along those lines.

"Can I ask how…" he says stopping as though he doesn't know how to put it politely.

"I helped out one night for a friend, discovered I had a knack for it and the money was good. I was a broke college student who didn't want to come out of school so far in debt I'd never find my way out and when I graduated, a year early thanks to summer sessions and a few extra classes paid for using my tips, I didn't have anything to pay off. I took a trip with my best friend to Cabo, and we enjoyed an entire week of pampering," I explained simply.

"When did you quit? Did your husband…fiancé disapprove?"

"You're not going to let it go until you have an answer about this ring, are you?"

"You can't blame me for being curious, Amelia. I haven't seen you take a phone call from anyone who puts a smile in your eyes the way a woman in love should look when she's talking to that special person. Not to mention if I were your fiancé or husband, I wouldn't be thrilled to find out you're sharing a suite, two bedrooms or not, with another man. I certainly would be calling the room to speak with him if I didn't have his number or you wouldn't give it to me to let my disapproval of it be known," he tells me with a look that says he knows there's something else going on here. Atop of that, I'm fighting to control the oddest sensation that washes through me hearing him even hypothetically put himself into the shoes of my fiancé or husband.

"Fine…you want the whole story? It is a wedding ring, just not mine," I tell him unable to stop myself. At his confusion I held up my hand to keep him from interrupting. "It was my great-grandmothers. She died when I was sixteen and being the only granddaughter, she left it to me. I always kept it with me and when I started working at the club, I put it on thinking it would provide some protection from the more vocal admirers."

"Did it?"

"No, but it did increase my tips epically. When I went to work at Lemans it kept my male co-workers away."

"Are there issues like that at Lemans?" he asked, likely wanting to make sure there weren't going to be a lot of harassment claims.

"Not really, but when you're a newly graduated twenty-one-year-old girl who gets put into a situation where there are several available men you do whatever you can to make sure you get taken on your work not on your looks or likeability. I wasn't interested in finding a relationship, and truthfully I'm still not. I didn't want the hassle of being asked and then having to turn them down," I tell him, not so sure about not wanting a relationship still but the only one that I seem to want is completely out of the question. His expression changes, his face masking over, and I can't figure out what he's thinking.

"You never said when you quit," he states.

"I continued to work at Sam's until I left for New York…and after I lost my position at Granter's I eventually went to work at Vivian's," I say getting it all out into the open.

"Vivian's?" he says the oddest expression crossing his face, it's one I've never seen before, and I have no clue what it means.

"Yeah, it's on…" I start explaining but he interrupts me.

"I know where it is. I just didn't expect…wait you said you were working that first weekend. Are you still working there?"

"No—at least not unless this job's no longer available."

"Why wouldn't this job…wait you thought if I found out you waitressed, you'd be out of a job?" Rafe demanded, his expression one of complete shock.

"There are a lot of people, my parents for one, who would be disgusted to find out I worked in a place ‘like that'."

"I'm not one of them. I don't find myself frequenting establishments ‘like that'," Rafe says, and I interject.

"I know."

"You do?" he says, his brow lifting his tone amused.

"Five years working as a cocktail waitress you gain a sixth sense about who does or does not, frequent those types of establishments, and the moment we met I knew you didn't."

"I guess I should be thankful for that," he muses. "But it does put me in an awkward position now."

"How's that?" I ask confused. He seemed to genuinely not care so it was odd to hear him say that.

"Because now that I know that ring is nothing more than armor, I have the urge to do this," he states, closing the distance between us in a single step. Taking my hands, he pulled me up out of my chair, and lowered his mouth over mine.

Shock, panic, and heat…that's what coursed through my body at the connection. I was so unprepared for it but the feeling of his lips on mine is very welcome, so much so that a soft moan slipped out of them.

Rafe heard it and for just a moment the kiss deepened but then it was as though he'd gotten control of himself, and he separated his lips from mine and took a few steps back. His hands rest on my arms, his breathing as ragged as mine.

"Amelia," he said looking at me with a mixture of tenderness, want, and apprehension. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" I said it was as though I no longer knew the meaning of the word. "You're sorry you kissed me?"

"Yes…no…hell I don't know," he said letting me go, turning his back on me, and running his hands through his dark wavy hair.

I found myself wanting to do the same thing. Easy girl, he's your boss …oh hell, I think that's why he's sorry. "Rafe, it's okay," I say although ‘okay' might not be the right word, fantastic seems more appropriate to me.

"It's not okay. Hell, Amelia you just finished telling me you weren't interested in an office romance, and I tend to avoid them like the plague, and what do I do? I practically mauled you," he says berating himself as he turns to face me.

"Rafe," I say taking a step towards him placing my hand on his arm to still his movement, "it's okay, really."

"I wish it were," he said softly reaching his hand out and cupping the back of my head. My eyes flutter shut at the awareness of that simple touch, and he leans his head down to rest his forehead against mine. "The moment you walked into the conference room, I found myself wanting you…and then I saw that damn ring," he added when I said nothing.

"Rafe," is the only thing I can manage, it comes out on barely a whisper.

"Fuck baby don't say my name like that," he groans, lifting his other hand to gently remove a piece of hair from my cheek.

My head automatically turns towards his touch, and I can't stop myself from admitting to him, "You weren't the only one."

That was all it took to produce a guttural moan from him and then I was back in his arms being kissed like I've never been. It's nothing like the messy attempts from a teenager or the rushed, hurried, expectant ones of college students. It's a long, slow seduction and I was drowning in it—in him.

His hands slipped under the hem of my top, slid up my back, and I crashed back into reality.

I pulled back mentally kicking myself for how easily I abandoned all common sense. I turned my head away from him unable to move away. No—unwilling to move away, from the circle of his arms.

Rafe's fingers gently lifted my chin, tilting my head up until his gaze met mine, his eyes searching. I know he sees the desire echoed back to him, but I can't do this. No matter how much my body says yes. My head and heart, say no. I can't do this not like this, not now. Almost as though he could hear what's running through my head, he pulled me closer, tucking my head up against his chest and simply held me.

Time slipped by. The late afternoon sky giving way to the first shadows of dusk, and I was still in his arms. Not moving. Not talking. I was just there. His heart beating in sync with mine, as if we'd known each other our entire lives instead of just two weeks.

I was content, and it dawned on me, this was the fairytale I'd been looking for all along. A quiet contentment to the crazy overbearing world outside the windows. A feeling of ease simply being with another person. A sense of protection and acceptance from them. It was everything I could ever want, especially on top of the desire I couldn't deny.

Holy hell girl, you're falling in love with him.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no , I can't be. I cannot be falling for him, but yet it's so clear now. The instant attraction, the enjoyment of working together—it wasn't because of getting Lemans out from under Diamonds. It was because I was spending time, alone , with Rafe.

Rafe felt the change in my demeanor and stepped back his eyes searching my face for answers, "What is it?"

"Nothing, I guess I'm just hungrier than I thought I was," I lie, giving him a believable smile. The same one I would give anyone when I didn't feel well—bright enough to stop any more questions but not quite as bright as my natural smile.

"Still feel like that pizza?" he asks with a lightly teasing note.

"Not so much. Why don't I change, and we can try out the restaurant here?"

"I'll make sure they have a table," he agreed watching me walk out of the room. I know because I can feel his gaze following me and it takes more strength to get myself to open the door and close it behind me than I thought it would.

I want to rush back to him, wrap my arms around his waist, and feel his lips against mine, his hands on my skin. God, I want to know what it's like to make love to him, I want…I want to stop feeling like this that's what I want.

I am not in the market for a relationship let alone one with the man whose company I work for now. I can just see the faces of the assistants back in New York if it came out that we nearly…

Ugh , no thought about that , none. Got it girl? I don't want people thinking I got my job by sleeping with the boss. Got a permanent position because I'm screwing him.

So you're not going to sleep with him, after all you are still a…

Dang it, you caught me again, I'm a virgin. A twenty-three-year-old virgin who doesn't know if I'm staying this way because it's what I was taught growing up or if it's because I've never been tempted. I mean part of me doesn't mind the idea of staying a virgin until marriage but the other side of me knows how ridiculous that sounds, especially in this day and age of instant gratification.

So girl , I ask myself, checking my reflection in the mirror, what's the plan?

I've always got one, so where is the one to get me out of this situation? It's not like I can suddenly change personalities…or maybe I can. Maybe the answer is to be more like the Amelia from the club than my normal self.

If he's not fond of strippers and strip clubs maybe it'll get him to back off just enough so I can breathe again and kill off these feelings.

I guess the first thing would be to change clothes. My current outfit is a casually classic every day look. A navy blue scoop-neck, cap-sleeve blouse and knee-length skirt, appropriate enough for the office as well as dinner, but I also have a few pieces that although nowhere near as revealing as what I'd wear at the club were a bit sexier than workwear.

I unzip my skirt and step out, hanging it back up so it wouldn't wrinkle, and grab the wrap dress I'd brought with me. It was a deep red which offset my medium ivory skin tone perfectly. The front dipped low revealing just enough cleavage to turn a man to mush and wish the tie would come undone, falling open letting them out to play. I cinch the belt at my waist adjusting the collar and settling the middle of the dip to rest just above the gore on my bra. Anyone taller than me could look down and see where it rested against my skin and if I lean over just right, the dress will reveal even more of it.

The skirt stops just under miniskirt length, and I slip into a pair of my five-inch heels. Again, why I brought them I don't know but I did, and they finish the look. In less than five minutes I'd gone from being sweet and respectable office worker, to sexy seductress. Another layer of eye shadow, blush and mascara just deepen the sex appeal. The lip gloss the topping on the cake.

Wait, did I just compare myself to a cake? That is so wrong…and I'm so hungry.

I step out into the sitting room area of the suite and expect to see Rafe waiting for me but he's not in it. Apparently he decided to change shirts I discover as I turn to look at the door to his room and see him without one on making me feel my pulse race.

Cool down girl or else you're going to be so deep in it you'll never crawl back out. A man like him is not going to want to settle down in a house raising the two point four kids with two dogs and a cat that you've always seen in the future.

He grabs another shirt and slips it on, his fingers deftly dealing with the buttons, and I automatically wondered if he'd be as good undoing them regardless of the clothing item.

Err …why can't I get my mind off this? Everything lately has been going back there, and I mean everything . Last night while we ate dinner a drop of dressing dribbled onto his chin, and I found myself thinking what it'd be like to lean over and lick it off and then where I could dribble it for him to lick it off.

See, I'm imaging it again, and now that I know what his kisses taste and feel like, it's so tempting, but the man is too old for me. He's not that old, thirty-three or thirty-four I'd say, but he definitely has the confirmed bachelor feel to him and I don't see him changing his lifestyle to suit me.

And I wouldn't want him to either. The man I end up with will be perfect just as he is. Okay so maybe perfect is a bit of a stretch, but you get what I mean. I don't want to deal with the whole ‘you'll never change, yes I will, no you can't, yes I can' situation and that's why I refuse to let myself get any closer to Rafe than I already am.

He turns to come meet me and I step back not wanting to get caught ogling him. That would just take too many lies to get out of. His phone beeps and he looks down at it and a different smile crosses his face. It's a mixture of joy and light combined with adoration and love, and my heart drops.

Shit, excuse my language, he's got a girlfriend. Of course he's got a girlfriend. Any man as rich and sexy as him would have a girlfriend, and now my blood is boiling, not with desire but with anger.

How many times have I told myself I'd never get involved with a man who already had someone else? I've seen too many married, engaged, or taken men in the clubs literally drooling after the girls and I refuse to be on either side of that equation.

He looks up and I hide the anger in my eyes somehow. I do have to work with the man, and the goofy lovesick expression he wore just moments before is gone, replaced by an unmasked, unashamed look of desire and despite everything I just saw my pulse races in response.

What kind of sick joke is this? I ask myself, waiting for him to speak.