Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(28)

“Perfect.”





Chapter Twelve


Eliza wanted to chuck her drink at Conrad Sterns’ retreating back. She should be elated that she’d managed to secure a consultation, as had been her plan. Once she managed to get inside his house, she would wow him. She had enough confidence to be sure of that. Her boss would be thrilled. Instead, all she felt was shortchanged. Until Oliver arrived on the scene, Sterns had been about as attentive as a ficus. Her association with Oliver had basically bought her credibility she should have earned on her own. And that ticked her off.

She rounded on Oliver. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” he returned. Way too quickly.

“Swoop in like a hero to save the little lady. I was doing great on my own. Stupendous.”

He sighed, probably wishing he’d left with the girl in the blue dress. She refused to consider her anger at him might partially stem from what she’d witnessed when he arrived. Refused.

“Eliza…you could be Madonna’s interior designer and that dude wouldn’t have blinked. Some men are just like that. They’re not listening no matter what you say.”

“They’re like you, you mean?” Oliver flinched, and she immediately wanted to weep. Since when had she started getting angry at him over his very nature? It wasn’t her job to judge him. How dare she? “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I didn’t mean it. You’re nothing like him.”

“No, you’re right.” He sounded numb. “I am.”

Eliza felt helpless. There she stood, in the middle of an extravagant, romantically-lit ballroom with a gorgeous man right in front of her who’d only been trying to help, and she’d let petty jealousy ruin their night. Before it even started. Worse, she thought she really might have damaged his feelings. Her chest felt hollow at the very idea. “Look, I…this is stupid. But I saw you talking to that girl earlier, and I just got angry. You were supposed to be here as my date, you know?” She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the probable horror on his face. She’d all but admitted to being jealous over him. God. “And you’re right, Sterns is an *. He saw me as a pair of talking legs. I just wanted to nail him down on my own.”

She opened her eyes to find Oliver watching her with an unreadable expression. Hope? Disbelief? It disappeared before she count decide. He cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “Look, maybe I shouldn’t have intervened, but I took a chance. It’s common knowledge that he shies away from investing in female-run companies. I can’t see it being any different with whatever design firm he hires. You were fighting a losing battle.”

“How did you know that?” She murmured, feeling stunned. “I didn’t even know that.”

“I asked around.” He shrugged. “I wanted to help you.”

Uh oh. Eliza’s pulse went crazy, and she felt suddenly drunk. As if she’d indulged in way more than two glasses of champagne. Around her, the room went darker, candles brighter. He’d spent time thinking of her, wanting her to succeed. Taking steps to ensure that success. She should have been angry that he didn’t think she could do it on her own, but she wasn’t. She couldn’t be when he’d done it so harmlessly. The hollowness she’d felt in her chest moments ago was gone, like it was never there, replaced with the heavy pounding of her heart. She heard it so loudly in her head, she swore it was being played over a loud speaker. That same heaviness crept lower and lower until her thighs tightened of their own accord. She was fairly certain her jaw had dropped over Oliver’s admission, but couldn’t command her brain to close it. Brain full to capacity.

His throat worked and he glanced away. He thinks I’m still angry.

“Eliza, I’m—”

She kissed him. Just grabbed the lapels of his tuxedo, yanked him close and kissed him like they were in the final scene of an action movie. He didn’t stop to ask questions, because this was Oliver she was kissing. With a starved growl, he flicked his tongue into her mouth the second she opened to him, claiming her mouth as if he’d only been waiting for the opportunity. Lips glided, tongues stroked greedily, chests heaved against one another. Eliza pushed up on her toes to get closer to his skilled mouth. Amazing. No one tasted like him, moved like him. His hand inched lower on her back. Oh, please. I need his hands on my ass. Need them everywhere.

He pulled back with a curse, but didn’t let go of her. “Goddammit, Eliza,” he whispered furiously. “You can’t kiss me like that unless we’re somewhere I can unclothe and f*ck you.”

Flames licked at her body. “Take me somewhere.”

His gaze moved over her head, scanning the crowd. “Not yet, babe. We just gave everyone quite a show and if we leave now, they’ll know I’m just looking for a dark place to sink my cock between your excruciatingly spreadable thighs.” He walked her further onto the dance floor. “My reputation isn’t salvageable, but there’s no way in hell I’m taking you with me.”

Afraid to look behind her and see who’d witnessed the kind of kiss usually reserved for the bedroom, Eliza moved into his arms and let him draw her close. She placed one arm around his neck, let him hold her opposite hand. Being close to him like this wasn’t helping her condition, only heightening her need. It wasn’t wise to behave this way in front of her boss, her colleagues…potential clients, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She felt compelled to get as close as possible, soak him in. They were pressed so tightly together, she could feel his stomach muscles bunching against her, his steely erection at her belly, his breath at her ear.