When We Met. Сьюзен Мэллери

chuckled. “That would be it, yes.”

      “My idea of hell.”

      “You work out in a gym.”

      “How do you know I work out at all?”

      His gaze traveled over her body. “I’m not going to bother answering that.”

      “I do yoga, too,” she murmured.

      He chuckled. “Lucky me. Favorite James Bond actor?”

      “Pierce Brosnan. James Bond movies should come with a wink. The new guy is too serious. I miss all the gadgets.” She looked at him. “You, however, are old-school. Your favorite is Sean Connery.”

      * * *

      “HE IS,” ANGEL admitted, watching the last rays of sun play across Taryn’s face. For a second they flashed on her sculpted cheekbones and then the sun slipped below the horizon.

      Lights had already come on around them, but even with them, she was mostly in shadow. Her pale skin gleamed while her dark eyes stayed mysterious.

      He held in a chuckle, knowing he was acting like a sixteen-year-old on his first date with the prom queen. Horny and out of his league.

      “I’m very much old-school,” he said as she rose.

      Before he could figure out what she was doing, she slipped off her jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. Whatever he’d been going to say next was lost when he took in her bare back and how the dress dipped low to her hips.

      Her skin was smooth, her waist narrow. She settled back in the chair and angled toward him. What had been a tailored dress that hugged her curves had suddenly become so much more than that. His mouth went dry. Hunger boiled and sent blood flooding his groin.

      “You’re probably the kind of person who enjoys books rather than an e-reader,” she said, picking up her wine again.

      “I like how they feel in my hands,” he said without thinking, his gaze still on her. “The smell of the paper. It’s a tactile experience.” He raised his gaze to hers. “Nicely played.”

      “Thank you.” She gave him a measured look. “I like that you don’t assume I’m easy.”

      “Any man who does that is a fool.”

      “The world is a foolish place.”

      “When was the last time you let a man take care of you?”

      She paused and something flashed in her eyes. A memory, he would guess. But good or bad? He couldn’t say.

      “It’s been a while. I don’t trust easily. Just like you don’t give up control.”

      “I can.”

      “When was the last time? Nineteen ninety-eight?”

      She was teasing. The real answer was 1992. With Marie. But he wasn’t going to talk about that.

      He rose and walked around the table, then gently drew Taryn to her feet. He liked that they were nearly the same height.

      “Love the shoes,” he murmured. “Ridiculous but effective.”

      He put his hands on her shoulders, then lightly drew them down her arms. Every part of her appealed to him. His dick was more than willing, but the rest of him said it would be so much better to wait. Besides, he’d promised. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he had a feeling not many men had kept their promises to Taryn. He wanted to make sure he kept his.

      She raised her chin, as if challenging him. He studied her mouth, the perfect shape, the lower lip slightly fuller than the top. He wanted to know how they would fit together when they kissed. How she would taste. He wanted to feel the steady pressure of need building until he had no choice but to guide them toward the inevitable end.

      But not tonight.

      He stepped to the side and picked up her jacket, then helped her into it. “It’s late. Let me walk you to your car.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      NOTHING HAD HAPPENED. NOTHING!

      The next morning Taryn was still doing her best to grasp that reality. She couldn’t decide if Angel deserved extra kudos for leaving her standing there by her car without even a good-night kiss or if she should attack him with one of her high heels the next time she saw him. Yes, he’d told her he was good at waiting, but she hadn’t expected him to be that good, damn him.

      After a restless night, she was forced to use the heavy-duty concealer on the dark circles under her eyes, and it was all his fault. She’d tried to come up with all the things she should have said to him, along with imagining ignoring him when he tried to approach her later. Only she didn’t want to ignore him, and even if she did, acting that way gave him too much power. She didn’t want him thinking he got to her, although he did. Dating guys who were afraid of her was much, much simpler. Although she had to admit despite the lack of sleep, this was way more fun.

      She dressed and drove to the office, where her exotic orchid was waiting for her on her desk. She checked the moisture level of the soil, as per the instructions, then turned on her computer and prepared to meet her day. While she waited for her computer to boot up, she checked her voice mail on her work phone. Nothing. And she’d already checked her cell that morning. Twice. The man hadn’t called. He hadn’t kissed her and now he wasn’t phoning. She and Angel were going to have to have a serious conversation about the rules. He was supposed to try and she was supposed to say no. Everybody knew that. His ass-backward plan was really starting to get on her nerves.

      Which was probably his strategy all along.

      * * *

      “I DON’T WANT to,” Larissa said, a distinct whine in her voice.

      “Do I look as if I care?” Taryn asked as she parked in front of Jo’s Bar. One of the advantages of Fool’s Gold during the workweek was that nearly everyone walked everywhere. So there was always convenient parking.

      In theory the restaurant was only about a quarter mile from the Score offices, but in her shoes, it might as well be fifty. Four-inch heels looked amazing but they were a bitch to walk in.

      Today she was wearing black-lacquered Gucci pumps with three skinny straps across the top of her foot. Technically they had a five-inch heel, but there was a one-inch platform. They were elegant and simple, not to mention the perfect complement to her Roberto Cavalli reptile-print silk blazer. Underneath she had on a plain sheath dress.

      Taryn loved clothes—probably because, until she was thirty, she’d never been able to afford anything that wasn’t secondhand. Now she was making up for lost time. And she didn’t care if everyone dressed casually in town. She didn’t and people would have to get used to that.

      Larissa continued to sit in the car. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “What if no one likes me?”

      Taryn angled toward her friend. “You know you’re being silly,” she said gently. “Everyone is going to love you. You’re sweet and funny and a loyal friend. What’s not to like?”

      Instead of relaxing, Larissa glared at her. “You’re being nice. What’s wrong? Am I dying and don’t know it?”

      Taryn sighed. “You’re not dying. I’m being supportive. I can be supportive.”

      “I know. It’s not you. I really like this place and I want to fit in.”

      “You fit in way more than me, and I’ve made friends.”

      Larissa brightened at the thought. “You’re right. I’m much nicer than you, too. Okay, let’s go.”

      Taryn collected her Prada bag. “Just give me a second to bask in the warmth of your friendship,” she muttered, then climbed out of her car.

      When they were both on the