Hot Asset (21 Wall Street #1)(50)

I take another gulp of the champagne, then set the mug down before I chug it.

“Well, thanks for taking the time,” Kate says, dropping into a chair. “He’s in a really good mood this morning. Like, I heard him whistle.”

“Really?” The information causes a thrill to rush through me that has nothing to do with professional satisfaction.

Kate shrugs. “Wouldn’t you if you’d just been told you weren’t going to jail?”

“There was no guarantee he’d have gotten time. Sometimes it’s just a hefty fine and job loss, though for some, that can be just as devastating.”

“The fine wouldn’t have bothered Ian.”

“Some of these guys end up losing seven figures. Not to mention their jobs.”

“I already told you he’s not about the money,” she says. “And I think you know that.”

I look down at my drink. I do know.

The Ian I’ve gotten to know over the past several weeks wears expensive suits, drinks overpriced wine, and hosts parties with caviar, yes, but that’s merely the top layer. Just like the flirtatious womanizer is just a layer. The man beneath that is kind, and generous, and maybe a little bit vulnerable.

“Lara.” Kate’s voice is softer than I’m used to, and I glance up. “Don’t play games with him. Please.”

I swallow and nod but say nothing. I’ve been so busy figuring out how to protect myself from Ian, it hasn’t really occurred to me that Ian might need protecting from me.

That he might be just as out of his element as I am, albeit in a different way.

Kate looks down at her mug. “Damn, it’s empty. I told myself I could only have one until I finish up the weekly reports. Guess it’s back to work.”

The sudden sting of sadness I feel at her words surprises me. I’ve been so focused on whatever the heck is going on between Ian and me, it hasn’t hit me that this is goodbye. Kate’s become a friend, or at least someone I would like to be friends with.

I’ll miss Kennedy and Matt, too, even Sabrina in all her gorgeous prickliness. It’s a group I wish I could be a part of . . .

If only things were different.

Kate stands. “Look, I know this might be weird, but if you ever want to grab lunch sometime . . .”

My smile is huge. “I’d like that.”

“Good.”

“Hey, Kate,” I say when she’s almost to the door. “Is Ian in his office?”

When she turns back, her grin is a little bit mischievous. “He had a meeting at nine, but it should be done by now. He’s got a break till eleven.” She leans against the door. “Whatcha need him for? I mean, the case is wrapped up, right? And you delivered that message last night. So—”

“Kate.”

“Yeah?”

I pick up my mimosa and take a sip. “What’s the deal with you and Kennedy?”

Her grin vanishes. “We’re not that good of friends yet, SEC.”

I smile. “Exactly.”

Kate points at me. “I knew I was going to like you.”

I’m still smiling when I walk down the hall toward Ian’s office. It’s just past ten, so assuming his nine o’clock didn’t run over . . .

Ian’s behind his desk, attention on his computer screen.

I watch him type for a moment. I’m used to seeing him in his charming people-person mode, but I’m realizing there’s another side to his professional persona. The guy who gets things done is very intense, very focused, and . . . very hot.

He’s wearing a dark-pink tie today, but it looks anything but feminine when paired with his dark-gray suit, broad shoulders, and sharp jawline.

The man’s every woman’s fantasy.

And he asked me to dinner.

Ian reaches for a pen and does a double take when he sees me in the doorway. “Hey there, Creeper. Come on in.”

“Hey,” I say, feeling a little flustered as I shut the door.

He starts to stand, but I hold up a hand to stop him. “Wait. If you could just . . . I need to say something, and I can’t when you’re all . . . close and stuff.”

Ian gives a puzzled smirk. “All right. What’s up?”

“You asked me to dinner.”

His gaze is steady. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I like to eat.” He smiles.

“Ian, I’m serious.”

He stands and comes toward me. “Because I like you, Lara. What the hell do I have to do to prove that? Get a skywriter? Tattoo? Take out a classified?”

My stomach flips at his words, and I can’t hide my silly grin.

“Did you turn in your report?” he asks, reaching out and taking my hand.

“I did.”

His eyes flicker in relief. “So I’m no longer under investigation for insider trading? You’re no longer investigating me?”

“Correct.”

He pulls me in for a kiss, and I’m ready for it. Hell, I meet him halfway, my hands on his waist, his cupping my face, pulling me close.

I can’t remember ever feeling this hungry, this reckless. Yes, we’re in his office. Yes, anyone could walk in. But right now, with his hands on me, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but wanting more.