Foreplay (The Ivy Chronicles #1)(11)

“Sure.” I carefully sipped my hot latte. “I get that.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Enough about me. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” He winked. “Anyone I need to give the once-over, make sure they treat you right?”

My face heated and I looked down at my cup, toying with the edge of the lid. “You don’t have to do that.”

I didn’t know whether it was a good or bad thing—him adopting a protective role. If his motives were more selfish than altruistic it would be a good thing. Unfortunately, he’d always looked out for me in the same way he looked out for his sister. It was sweet, but only served to underscore his very platonic interest in me. I wanted, needed, him to look at me like a flesh-and-blood girl . . . someone he protected because he wanted me for himself.

“And there isn’t anyone anyway,” I added.

“Yeah. Well, when you do meet someone make sure he treats you right, Pepper. You deserve that.” His eyes softened, but not for the right reasons. Not because he saw me. His velvety brown eyes weren’t softening because he was overcome with tenderness for the me sitting in front of him right now.

No. Looking at me, he saw twelve-year-old me. And the absolute suck that was my world—my past. A dead father. A mother God knows where. Growing up with a grandmother in her retirement community was a far cry from his idyllic life. He pitied me.

“Well, I guess I’ll get Emerson her drink.” My throat suddenly thick, I stood, securing my bag around me before bending to collect the drinks from the round table in front of me. He followed me to the door, holding it open for me.

Stepping outside after me, he gave me a quick hug, mindful of my cups. “Good talking to you. See you around, Pepper.”

“Yeah, you, too.” My bright smile slipped as he turned away. I watched him move down the sidewalk, merging with the traffic of students.

I stood there, blocking the entrance to the coffee shop until I couldn’t make out the back of him anymore. Until he became lost from sight.

All the emotion, all the desperation I felt last night surged through me again. It came back with a vengeance. I knew what I had to do. If I was going to get him to look at me differently, minus the pity, I had to be different.





Chapter       5

There he      is.” Emerson shook her head. “I can’t believe I gave him to you. He’s so damn      hot.” She nudged me encouragingly and waggled one of her finely arched eyebrows.      “You better climb all over that or I’m going to punch you. No backing down.”

I stood several yards back from the bar, tucked      half behind Emerson as I scoped out the bartender undetected. Her words didn’t      faze me. “You know the small matter of his interest in me, or lack of interest,      might come into play.”

She looked back at me. “You’re kidding, right? You      look good tonight. Better than most of these overdone peahens prancing around in      here shaking their tail feathers his way. You’ve got something they don’t.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yes. You’ve got . . .” She      paused, searching for the word. “ . . . a freshness to you.”

I winced, feeling rather as if she’d just called me      a “nice girl.” I couldn’t seem to escape that moniker.

The bartender (I really needed to learn his name)      wore another Mulvaney’s T-shirt, this one a soft-looking gray cotton with blue      script across the chest. I had a flash of myself wearing that shirt and nothing      else, wrapped up in his scent. Wrapped up in him. Sucking in a breath, I shook      off the wicked image. Probably every girl who walked up to him entertained that      fantasy—along with a few choice others that I probably didn’t need to visualize.      That thought made me feel decidedly un-special. I had to somehow stand out from      the rest of them, and I wasn’t convinced my freshness would do the trick.

He looked as good as ever if my memory served.      Better. A body made for sin and a face that was too masculine to be beautiful,      but the sight of it did something to me. Made me feel boneless and trembly all      over.

“No backing down,” I echoed, my resolve still      there, burning hot inside me, keeping me from turning and running out of the      building.

It was just the two of us tonight. Georgia was off      with Harris.

“Okay,” Em announced. “I think we’ve reconned long      enough. Let’s move in.”

Her words sent a wave of panic washing through me.      “It’s crowded . . .”

“It’s crowded every night. Unless you want to come      stalk him on a Monday. Assuming he’s even working then.”

I shook my head. No. No more delays.

“Let’s go then. You should feel good. You look      great.”