IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(13)

That was it. I stood. Fast enough that my chair kicked out behind me, rolling almost all the way to the wall of windows. I pointed at the two techs. “Out.”

Deb jumped to her feet. It was clear she had no idea what was going on or why I was acting the way I was, but she stepped in to smooth things over. That’s what she did, what she was good at. “Right, I believe what Mr. Grange means is that we received a message that you two are needed in the lab downstairs.”

My nostrils flared. I wanted to fire the two on the spot. Deb cut me a look to say she was handling this and, while I may be wound up now, I would thank her later. I glared at her.

Conor stood frozen, practically trembling from a combination of nerves, squeamishness, and my unexpected outburst. Dammit.

“Everyone out,” I barked. “And someone get that damn picture off the screen,” I added. One of the other techs lunged for the video controls.

Deb clenched her jaw. She was not pleased with me. “An excellent idea—now would be the perfect time for a break. We have coffee and refreshments in the conference room next door.” She led the others from the room.

Conor started to follow but had to steady himself with a hand on the wall. “Not you,” I told him.

He froze.

“Sit,” I ordered.

He sat.

I stared at him, having no idea what to say next. I’d been acting on instinct, on my gut desire to protect him, but clearly I hadn’t thought this through. I went to the credenza against the far wall and retrieved an ice-cold bottle of water. I loosened the cap and set it in front of him. “Drink.”

He gulped the water hungrily, and I tried not to stare at the column of his throat and the sharp edge of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. I wanted to trace a finger down that throat.

I started to pace away from him, wanting to put distance between us, but then stopped myself. I was being ridiculous. I was a master of control. I didn’t need distance to keep from reaching for him. As if to prove the point to myself, I stepped closer to Conor, intentionally crowding his space.

“Thank you,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done. Only then did he seem to realize how close I was. He let out a shaky breath and rolled his chair away slightly.

“You okay?” I leaned my hip against the table, closing the distance again.

He fiddled with the cap to the water bottle, flipping it over his fingers. “Yeah. I don’t normally do this.” He crossed one knee over the other, using the movement to push himself away again.

I wasn’t sure if he was referring to getting woozy or to presenting this kind of scientific demonstration. It didn’t really matter. I shifted from one foot to the other, erasing the gap. “Would you like to reschedule for a time when your mom can—”

“No,” he blurted, shaking his head. “I’m okay. I can do this.” He tried to move his chair again. But something was in the way.

He glanced down at where my foot blocked the wheel, then looked quickly up at me. His eyes met mine and there was something vulnerable in them, but yearning too.

Well, well. Could it be that Conor Newell was interested in me in real life?

I wanted to lean forward and place my hands on the armrests, trapping him. I wanted to hover over him, force his head to tilt back. I wanted to claim his mouth with my own.

As if he could sense the direction of my thoughts, his eyes dropped to my lips, then dragged back up to my eyes.

I wondered if he could see how attracted to him I was, how wrong-footed I suddenly felt.

My hands itched to touch him. Seeing him up close, I realized his hazel eyes were streaked with honey gold. There was an empty piercing hole in one of his ears, a missed spot of unshaven whiskers at the very edge of his jaw. I clenched my fingers around the edge of the table to keep from reaching for him.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

I wanted to bite the words back as soon as they were out of my mouth. What the hell was I thinking? Had I really just asked the guy I was negotiating a deal with out on a date? Was I seriously going to risk a multimillion-dollar deal for, what? One night with a gamer geek?

Conor’s eyes widened in surprise. Before he had a chance to reply, I laughed and pushed away from the table, putting distance between us.

So much for my ability to control myself.

“With my team, I mean,” I said. “We have reservations at Segreto for seven. Deb will arrange a car to pick you up from your hotel.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach into his pocket for his phone while he considered my invitation.

“I was planning to eat at my hotel,” he said, hesitantly.

I wasn’t used to being turned down. In business or in bed. But that wasn’t why I wanted him to say yes so badly.

He intrigued me. I wanted him to come to dinner so I could spend more time with him in real life instead of over the phone.

That alone should have had warning bells sounding in my head. And maybe they were, but I ignored them. I knew how to apply pressure to get what I wanted. “It’s our custom to get to know our potential business partners over a nice dinner, Mr. Newell. We’re talking about a deal worth a lot of money.”

Conor nodded and stood. Suddenly, we were face-to-face, barely more than a foot of space between us. I expected him to flinch or shrivel back. Instead he straightened his back. “Yes, fine,” he bit out. “I’ll be ready.” He held my eyes a moment longer and then turned on his heel and left the room. I stared after him, wondering what had just happened. Had my little sexy gamer geek just stood up to me?