Sway (Landry Family #1)(19)

“That you did,” I say under my breath and pop open the container in front of me. The food looks beautiful, Opal having done a fantastic job at staging the entree, but I can’t eat. There’s no way. My appetite is for one thing and that’s sitting across from me.

"How has your day been?" he asks.

"Lunch was crazy today,” I say. “How about yours?"

"Getting better," he says vaguely and then wraps those gorgeous lips around the fork.

I die. Imagining his lips on my skin, moving across it like they’re doing to the metal tines makes me shiver. I hope he doesn't notice, but it's not like I can control it. I can feel him watching me, but I don't look up. I can't. It'll confirm that what he thinks I'm thinking is true and I'll die of embarrassment.

The silence is awkward, more awkward than a conversation in which I make a fool out of myself, so I take a gamble. "How'd the event go last night? Was it a success?"

"It was. Lots of connections were made although, between you and me, those things are usually pretty boring."

"That's good."

He rests his fork on the side of his plate and sits back, studying me. “Did you do anything after work last night?”

"I went home and slept like a log," I say, conveniently leaving out the phone call to Lola and then the date with my vibrator afterwards. "And then I got up and went to work today. Just another day in the life, you know?"

"I do. But you know what they say? All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

"Is that so?"

"That's what they say."

"So what do you like to play, Jack?"

When his eyes light up immediately and his lips twitch, I admonish myself for asking that question.

Why, why, why do I do this to myself?

"I play a lot of things very well," he insinuates.

"Do you?"

Shut. Up. Alison.

"Wanna play with me?"

I laugh, trying to ease the sexual chemistry that's now whirling around us like a cyclone. One little nod and I'm sure he's going to pounce, and I'm not sure I'll do anything more than fall on my back and open my legs. And while that'll be fun for however long his stamina runs—which is classified under things I'd like to know—after that, it'll be a disaster. This I'm sure of.

"I don’t think I’m up for that challenge," I grin.

"I'll let you win," he says, his eyes growing wider, tempting me to break.

"I'm going to call bullshit on that."

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. I can almost see a weight lift from his shoulders. He seems even more casual than last night while we walked in the dark. Watching him control a room yesterday was such a turn-on, but watching him like this, relaxed, is maybe even sexier.

An easy breeze floats through the room and my gaze is carried out the window. I can see a line of trees, pines, I think, in the back of the property. It’s so peaceful.

"Do you live here?" I ask.

"No. This is where I come to work when the office is too crazy. We call it the Farm."

"This is your getaway? Very nice,” I approve.

"This isn’t where I grew up, but I feel more at home here than anywhere in the world."

His features morph, turning lighter, more playful. He looks like a little kid showing off his new bike. It’s adorable.

"I had no idea it was even here,” I say. “It’s amazing. So quiet."

"That's the point. I—"

Our gazes land on his desk to a phone buzzing. He looks at me for permission to answer and I nod. He stands and lifts the receiver.

"Yes, Rose?" He pauses and stares at the wall, purposefully not at me. "Send him through." He pauses again. "Yeah, Nolan?"

His posture changes immediately. His back stiffens, his shoulders tense. His volley back and forth with Nolan is all political jargon, the harshness in his tone has returned, thicker than before.

I wonder if this is what he goes through every day. It's even more stressful, I'm sure, than what Hayden went through, and I can't begin to fathom what that must do to his life. I know it's a part of the job, but I wonder how much of himself Barrett has to give up to have this life. And I wonder if he enjoys it.

"My cell is off because I'm trying to get some actual work done," he bites out. He moves confidently around the desk, one hand stuck in the pocket of his pants. He looks in total control, completely assured, a touch aggressive, and it's nothing short of visual foreplay. This call is prepping my body for sex, even though it wasn't meant to.

"If that's the absolute only way to get the votes, then fine," he finally sighs. I can tell he isn't thrilled about whatever he's just agreed to. "Listen, I want a list of other options you've explored before this goes through. I want it perfectly clear that if another way becomes available to achieve this, I want to go with it instead. This is a last resort. You got it?" He listens before planting the receiver firmly in place. He turns to face me, the prior look of amusement long gone. I'm not sure what that call was about, whether he's had a bomb dropped in his lap he must take care of.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice low. When he doesn’t respond with more than a furrowed brow, I say, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”