“Really.”
“Really really?”
“Really really. Just remember, tonight you’re mine.”
It worries how much I like the sound of that, the thought of that.
Her grin fully forms and she releases my wrist to salute me. “Sir, yes sir.”
I love how playful she is. Such a nice change from Marissa, who’s always…well…who’s just not.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” I say with a nod. “A woman who knows her place is beneath me. Oh, wait. That didn’t sound right,” I tease.
She laughs. “I’m beneath no man!” she replies harshly. Then, with a mischievous quirk to her mouth, she adds, “At least not without dinner and a drink first.”
“Ohhhh, so that’s how it’s gonna be! Because there’s a McDonald’s right across the street.”
I offer her my arm and she curls her fingers around the inside of my elbow. I know it’s ridiculous and juvenile, but I flex my bicep hoping she notices.
“Is that all it takes to get you to, ahem, come to attention?” she asks, suggestively sliding her eyes over me.
“I’m a twenty-five year old completing an internship at one of the most influential law firms in all of Atlanta. McDonald’s would never do it for me.” I stop at the door and open it, gesturing for her to precede me. “But now a look like the one you just gave me…”
Her cheeks turn a delicate pink and she drops her eyes shyly. It makes me want to tear that dress off her with my teeth.
“Colonel, just what is it you’re insinuating?”
“Colonel? A salute like that and all I get is a Colonel?”
“I don’t know. Have you earned enough stripes to be a General?”
We stroll leisurely to my car. “Depends on how you think someone earns their stripes.” Two little dimples pop out on either side of her mouth where she’s trying to control her smile.
“Oh, I guess the same way most guys earn their stripes,” she says, swinging the red purse attached to her wrist, trying to act nonchalant.
“Baby, if that’s your definition, I’d be a four-star General.”
She bursts into laughter. I can tell she wasn’t expecting me to say that. But I’m so glad I did. Hearing her laugh is like listening to the best kind of symphony.
I’m a little disappointed when we reach the car. I could really just walk and talk and tease her all night long.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Olivia
The silence in the car is only slightly tense. Well, maybe “tense” is the wrong word. For me, it feels…charged. Sexually charged. I wonder if Nash feels the same way.
Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he flirts with all the girls like this.
I think on that for a second. The prospect is both disappointing and aggravating. But I honestly don’t think that’s the case. It could just be my ego talking, but I don’t think he’s like that with just anybody.
At least I hope not.
For some reason, Nash seems like the faithful sort.
I’d be genuinely surprised if he’s ever cheated on Marissa.
I bet he’s an actual good guy. The kind that I desperately need in my life. The thing of it is, he’ll never be mine because he’s a good guy. By nature alone, a good guy would never cheat on his girlfriend, hence the impossibility of anything happening between Nash and me. Even if they were to break up, he’d probably be too nice a guy to hurt her like that, by dating her cousin.
As Shawna would say, that sucks major ass!
“Did you solve it?”
Nash’s deep, heavenly voice interrupts my troubled thoughts.
“Solve what?”
“World hunger.”
I know I must be looking at him like he’s sprouted wings or a third eye. He looks from the road to me a couple of times before he starts laughing.
“Yes, in case it isn’t apparent at this point, I’m completely lost.”
“So it would appear,” he teases with a grin. “I just meant that you were thinking awfully hard. Is everything okay?”
I lean my head back against the padded leather headrest and I stare at Nash’s handsome profile. With his hair combed smoothly to the side, unlike his brother’s messed up ‘do, and his summer-tan skin, he looks like James Bond in his tux. And I fell victim to his charms as if he really were the dashing MI6 agent.
He’s got me shaken and stirred.
“You belong in a tux, you know that?” He frowns over at me, but smiles. I straighten my head and face the windshield. “Ohmigod, could I be any more random?”
What has gotten into you?
He chuckles. “Actually, I think the answer to that is ‘yes’.”
“You know me well, Bond.”
He chuckles again. “Bond? As in James Bond? Where did that come from?”
I turn my head to look at him again. Immediately it gets all fuzzy with hormones.
“Um, I was, uh, I was thinking about being shaken and stirred.” He looks over at me and quirks one brow. “I mean I was thinking how well you could probably shake and stir something.”
Ohmigod, somebody stop me!
“I mean, how well you could probably shake and stir a drink. Not me.” I snort.
Ohmigod, I just snorted!
“You were?” His mouth curves into a sexy grin. With that brow raised and those lips curled up at the corners, he looks exactly like his brother. Like the twins that they are.
I just stare at him, quite embarrassingly—again—for several seconds before my wits return and I begin to chastise myself.
What the hell is wrong with you? Why don’t you just have him pull over so you can climb into his lap?
FYI, that’s the wrong kind of thing to think in an effort to settle hot-and-bothered thoughts. That visual sends me into another brief catatonic state as I fantasize about riding in the driver’s seat of Nash’s car. With Nash still in it.
After several seconds, I remember that he’d said something. “Um what?” I ask, literally shaking my head to get back some focus.
Nash frowns. “Olivia, are you all right?”
I sigh and turn to face straight ahead again.
Note to self: Do not expect coherent thought to be possible when staring at Nash. Motor skills may be impaired as well. Take necessary precautions.
I almost snicker when I picture myself putting on a helmet, knee pads and a mouth guard every time Nash enters the room.
Then I think of what I could do in the knee pads…
Gahhhhh!