Mid Life Love (Mid Life Love #1)(45)

“You lied to me.” He sounded amused.

“So?”

He loosened his grip and spun me around. “So?”

“Yes...So?”

He looked at me for a long time, letting his eyes roam over my body. He took several steps towards me, backing me against the wall.

“I’m going to make you regret that when you least expect it.” He kissed my lips. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Don’t call him....Don’t call him...

It was midnight. I was lying in bed, counting the number of cracks in my ceiling, trying to keep my mind off Jonathan.

I’d tried my best to resist liking him, but I couldn’t help it. We’d been having sex for almost two months, talking on the phone every now and then, and texting each other at work. Yet, it wasn’t those things that made my heart flutter; it was the small intimate things he did.

Since I refused to eat lunch with him, he had whatever I wanted delivered to my office and called me during my break so that we could “technically” eat lunch together.

He insisted on kissing me before and after sex—not the hungry, savage, ‘devouring-you-right-now’ kisses; the sensual, open-mouthed, ‘I-can’t-get-enough-of-you’ kisses. He called me “beautiful” every chance he could, and he always asked me out on a date, even though I turned him down every time.

I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that our affair would last, it was only temporary—a meaningless fling. It was only a matter of time before a younger woman, a woman who would immediately say yes to going out with him, would catch his eye.

I couldn’t deny that I was enjoying the newfound attention and the undeniable ego boost, but I was hoping he would find someone else soon. I needed to come back to my senses and stop behaving like some sex-crazed teenager.

Stop thinking about him, Claire. Stop thinking about—

My phone rang. Him.

I didn’t let it ring more than once before answering it. “Hello?”

“Hello, Claire. You’re up late tonight.”

“I have to be. I’m in the middle of doing some very important—”

“You’re in bed aren’t you?”

Ugh. “Yes...”

He laughed. “And the lies just keep coming, don’t they? Don’t even think I’ve forgotten about your first lie. I’m still going to get you back for that.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What are you doing?”

“I’m still at the office. I think I’m going to have to spend the night here. It’s been a busy week and I can’t keep up with all the paperwork.”

“More contracts?”

“Exactly. When a company’s about to go public, everyone wants to jump on the bandwagon. It’s a good thing for us economically, but it’s extremely stressful.”

“I can’t imagine...I’m sure you’ll—”

“You should come over.”

“What? I don’t think so. This afternoon was more than enough. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“We don’t have to have sex, Claire. We can just talk.”

“Talk?”

“Yes. What we’re doing right now, except in person.”

“Um...No thanks. That’s a forty minute drive for me so—”

“My driver is outside your house with a town car.”

What!

I jumped out of bed and peered through my blinds. Sure enough, there was a driver standing in front of a black luxury car.

“What’s your next excuse? And don’t say your daughters because you told me last week that they drive themselves to work on the weekends.”

“I...”

“You know you want to come—no pun intended.”

Damnit...“I’ll have to think about it for a while and get back to you.”

“See you soon.” He laughed and hung up.

I rushed into my bathroom and brushed a light layer of foundation on my face. I threw on a pair of black slacks and a purple blouse and headed outside.

“Good evening, Miss Gracen.” The driver greeted me as I approached the car.

His driver knows my name?

“Good evening. Thank you for the ride...”

“Anything for Mr. Statham,” he said as he shut my door.

As the car sped through the city, I realized how beautiful San Francisco was at night—all the lights from the downtown skyline were shining brightly and most of the streets were clear.

The car came to a stop forty minutes later and I heard the driver say, “We’ve arrived Mr. Statham...Yes, of course.”

He stepped out of the car and walked around to my door. “This way, Miss Gracen.” Holding out his arm, he walked me into the basement of Statham Industries. He led me over to the private elevator and hit “JS.”

As we rode to the top floor, he kept his eyes forward and I could see him slightly smiling.

When the doors slid open, Jonathan was standing in front of me wearing a muscle shirt and work-out pants. It looked like he’d just taken a shower; his hair was still wet and I could see small damp traces on his shirt.

Why does he always look so good?

“Thank you, Greg.” Jonathan reached for my hand and walked me into his office. “Would you like something to drink, Claire?”