The Kiss Quotient(90)
She grasped at her purse straps and walked even faster. The sidewalk ended, and her heels clicked over asphalt as she marched down the now-residential street toward her house.
“If you wanted to sleep with him, you were going about it all wrong. You should have let him kiss you. Why didn’t you? Nerves?”
“Go away, Michael.”
“I want to know why you didn’t kiss him. He’s what you want. Isn’t he?”
She froze in her tracks. Her chest worked on rapid breaths as she stared to the side. “Why are you following me and talking to me? I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act or what I’m supposed to say.”
“We can’t act like friends?” He’d thought they were that, at least.
She met his gaze. Beneath a mixture of streetlights and moonlight, her eyes looked watery and vulnerable. “We’re friends?”
“I hope so.”
“That doesn’t work for me.” She stepped away, her jaw stiff and her eyes narrowed. He thought she was angry until tears started tracking down her face. “I don’t want to be your pity friend.”
His chest constricted at the sight of her tears, and he quit breathing. “Who ever said anything about pity?”
She swiped at her cheeks as her chin quivered. “You did. You said you were done helping me but I still wasn’t enough. You said it, and you meant it. You can’t take it back now.”
“I never said you. I said we.” He swallowed hard. “You never once thought I meant me? That I’m not enough for you?”
Guileless eyes searched his face, wide from her lack of understanding. “Why would I ever think that?”
“Because I’m a prostitute, and my dad is a criminal.”
Her lips turned down, and she took a step away from him. “I don’t care about those things. None of that impacts who you are or how you treat me. You’re using those things as excuses because you don’t want to hurt me. But I want you to know I can handle the truth. If I’m not enough for you, that’s fair and I accept it. I’ll get over you eventually. I don’t want to be coddled or lied to because of what I am. I don’t need your pity friendship.”
With that, she breezed past him and sailed down the street. Her walk was fast and all business. There was no seductive swaying of hips, no grace; this was no runway walk. He loved it.
He loved her.
And she was trying to get over him.
In order to get over him, she had to have fallen for him first. She knew about his escorting, his financial situation, his education, and his dad, and she still loved him.
That changed everything.
Determination coursed through him. He’d been so blinded by his insecurities that he’d pushed her away and hurt her. What he should have been doing instead was fighting for her.
The fight started now. If she could trust and accept him as he was, then he could, too. She deserved that kind of man. For her, he was going to be that kind of man.
He followed Stella from a distance to make sure she made it into her house safely, and then he ran to find Quan. He needed help devising a battle plan.
{ CHAP+ER }
28
A knock on her office door distracted Stella from the new algorithm she was formulating. As she swiveled around, the door opened, and an enormous bouquet of calla lilies walked into the room.
Their lead receptionist, Benita, a curvy brunette in her early forties, set the vase on the desk and exhaled through her mouth. “Okay, that was heavy. It looks like you have an admirer.”
Stella plucked a card out from between the blooms. She recognized Michael’s bold scrawl immediately.
For my Stella. Thinking of you. Love, Michael.
“I don’t know what this means.” She stared at the note sitting in the palm of her hand.
Benita craned her head to the side to read Michael’s script and grinned. “Michael is the honey you’re dating, isn’t he? He’s quite the looker.”
“We broke up.”
Benita’s grin turned sly. “Looks like he wants to get back together. Are you going to give him another chance?”
Before she could reply, Philip stalked past her door. After a split second, he reversed and glowered at the bouquet on her table. An impressive black eye decorated the right side of his face.
“That son of a bitch.” He barged into her office, headed for her flowers.
She threw herself in front of them. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to throw those in the Dumpster where they belong.”
“No, you’re not. They’re mine.” This was her first bouquet from a boy ever.
“I’ll get you better ones,” he said through his teeth. “Those have to go.”
“I don’t want you to get me flowers.”
“We’re dating, remember?”
“We’re not dating. We went on one date, and I don’t want another. We’re not compatible at all.”
Benita pursed her lips and watched Philip with raised eyebrows, obviously enjoying the drama.
He approached Stella with tensed shoulders and clenched hands. “And you’re compatible with him?”
She curled her fingers around the card. Was it still compatibility if it was one-sided?