Fire Inside (Chaos #2)(36)

I stared at him.

He looked back to the bag and started to unearth white containers with red Asian designs on their sides, muttering, “Expected nothin’ less.”

“What just happened?” I asked.

He twisted his neck to look at me, his hand wrapped around paper-bound chopsticks. “Crowe’s good at bypassing security systems.”

“What just happened?” I repeated.

Hop straightened to full height and turned to me, whereupon he explained more fully, “Lookin’ for you so I could bring you dinner, saw your car in the underground garage. Came up. Saw the security console through your door, you at your desk. Console stated security was engaged. Called Crowe. Did some snooping. Found out you liked kung pao shrimp. Ordered it. Got it. Met Crowe here. I picked the lock. Crowe bypassed your system. Now we’re eatin’ while you finish up and shut down then we’re goin’ to my place to watch some TV and spend the night.”

There was a lot there so I started at the top.

“I didn’t see you come up.” I motioned to the wall of windows beside me that had a straight view to the front doors, which were also a wall of windows.

“I didn’t want to be seen,” he informed me.

I went back to staring at him, forgetting about the rest of what we needed to go over.

He went back to the food. Placing my container in front of my chair, he took his, sat in one of my sleek white leather chairs, shifted low, leaned back and lifted his motorcycle boots to my desk, ankles crossed.

He then commenced eating.

At this point, I remembered what we needed to go over, prioritized quickly and announced, “I’m not eating dinner with you.”

“It’s Imperial,” he replied.

Damn.

Imperial kung pao shrimp was the best and I was hungry. I’d had a big lunch but that was five hours ago.

And anyway, what would he do with that food if I didn’t eat it? Would it go to waste?

Sacrilege.

Okay, maybe I was going to eat.

Moving on.

“I’m not going to your place to watch TV and definitely I’m not spending the night,” I declared.

“Okay, we’ll go to yours,” he returned.

“We’re not doing that either.”

His eyes hit my overnight bag then came back to me while I tried to ignore the smell of delicious Chinese food filling the air.

“Where we goin’?” Hop asked.

“Where I’m going is none of your business,” I answered.

He grinned, clamped his chopsticks around some noodles and shoved them in his mouth, eyes on me, the grin never leaving his face.

I watched this thinking it stunk that even watching him eat was somehow sexy. Then I moved to thinking it stunk that seeing him slouched in my sleek white leather chair with his feet on my desk was also sexy. He was all hot biker in leather and faded denim, stubble, unruly hair. My office was all pristine, clean edges, glass, chrome, and splashes of bright colors. He didn’t fit. His presence there, regardless of his casual pose, was an invasion and I’d discovered weeks ago I liked all the ways Hop could invade.

Just then, I discovered this kind of invasion was included.

He was not of my life, my work, my home. He came from a life that was wild and free. Where it was okay not to shave or get regular haircuts. Where you didn’t throw away supremely faded jeans; you wore them because they were fabulous. Where you casually broke in somewhere you wanted to be, bringing along your buddy who could adeptly, if feloniously, disarm security systems.

Where rules didn’t apply, only feelings did.

You went with your gut, you led with your heart, you did what you wanted and you didn’t think of consequences.

You lived.

You were free.

Yes, Hop invading my office bringing Chinese food brought all this to me.

And I liked it.

I shook these thoughts off and realized he hadn’t replied.

“Hop—” I started but he swallowed and interrupted me.

“Sit down, Lanie, and eat. It’s getting cold.”

I took two steps into the room, stopped and said quietly but firmly, “I don’t have the energy to spar with you tonight. I’ve been working for five hours and although not physically taxing, it’s been mentally draining. I just want a quiet night.” I shook my head and amended, “No, I need a quiet night.”

“Then it’s good we’re just gonna watch TV. And when I f**k you later, you’re golden. I’ll do all the work.”

That got me another shiver even as I felt my palms start to itch.

God! He had an answer for everything.

I didn’t know what to do. I had not one idea how to get him to leave me be. What I did have an idea about was that I refused to consider the fact that I didn’t want him to let me be.

It was then I decided I should eat. Brain food. If I had Imperial kung pao shrimp, I was certain my mental juices would start flowing and something would come to me.

Putting this plan into action, but deciding to do it with extreme ill-grace, I stomped around my desk in order to get to my food.

Unfortunately, Hop felt like providing a commentary as I did this and, equally unfortunately, I liked what he said or, more accurately, muttered.

“Christ, a Saturday, alone in an office for hours. Still she looks f**kin’ spectacular.”