Tangled (The Tangled Series)(9)

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t thinking about her when the twins were double-teaming me. But it’s at least partly true.

“You’re incorrigible,” she says in a way that tells me she thinks I’m cute.

I’m a lot of things, baby. Cute isn’t one of them.

“I see something I want, and I go after it. I’m used to getting what I want.”

You’ll never hear a truer statement about me than that. But let’s put things on hold for a minute here, okay? So I can give you the full picture.

See, my mother, Anne, always wanted a big family—five, maybe six kids. But Alexandra is six years older than me. Six years may not seem like a lot to you, but to my mother it was a lifetime. The way the story goes, after Alexandra, my mother couldn’t get pregnant again—and it wasn’t for lack of trying. “Secondary infertility,” they called it. When my sister was four, my mother had pretty much given up hope of ever having any more kids.

And then guess what? I came along.

Surprise.

I was her miracle baby. Her precious angel from God. Her granted wish. Her answered prayer. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. My father was thrilled, just as grateful to have another child—and a son at that. And Alexandra—this was the pre-Bitch years—was ecstatic to finally have a baby brother.

I was what my family had wanted and waited five years for. I was the little prince. I could do no wrong. There was nothing I wanted that I couldn’t have. I was the most handsome, the most brilliant. There was no one kinder, none sweeter than me. I was loved beyond words—doted on and catered to.

So, if you think I’m arrogant? Selfish? Spoiled? You’re probably right. But don’t hold it against me. It’s not my fault. I am a product of how I was raised.

Now that that’s out of the way—back to my office. This next part is big.

“And I think you should know, I want you, Kate.”

See the flush on her cheeks, the slight surprise on her face? See how her face turns serious, and she meets my eyes and then looks down at the floor?

I’m getting to her. She wants me too. She’s fighting it. But it’s there. I could have her. I could lead her right where she is dying to go.

The knowledge makes me swallow a groan as the guy downstairs reacts with a vengeance. I want to walk up to her and kiss her until she can’t stand. I want to slide my tongue between those ripe lips until her knees give out from under her. I want to pick her up, wrap her legs around my waist, lean her up against the wall and…

“Hey, Drew. There’s a traffic jam on Fifty-Third. If you want to make your four o’clock, you should get going.”

Thank you, Erin. Way to kill the moment. Awesome secretary—horrible timing.

Kate gets up from her chair, her shoulders stiff, her back straight. She inches toward the door and refuses to look me in the eyes. “So, thanks for your time, Mr. Evans. You…ah…let me know when you want me.”

I raise my brows suggestively at her words. I love that she’s flustered—and that I’m the one who did it to her.

Still avoiding eye contact, she grimaces slightly. “About Alphacom and Genesis. Let me know what I should do…what you want me to do…what…oh, you know what I mean.”

Before she’s out the door, my voice stops her. “Kate?”

She turns to me, her eyes questioning.

I point to myself. “It’s Drew.”

She smiles. Recovering herself. Her natural confidence finding its way back into her eyes.

Then she meets my gaze full on. “Right. I’ll see you later, Drew.”

Once she’s out the door, I say only to myself, “Oh, yes. Yes, you will.”

As I check my briefcase to leave for my meeting, I realize this attraction—no, that’s not a strong enough word—this need that I have for Kate Brooks isn’t just going to go away. I can try and fight it, but I’m only a man, for God’s sake. Left unresolved, my desire for her could turn my office, the place I love, into a torture chamber of sexual frustration.

I can’t let that happen.

So, I have three options: I can quit. I could get Kate to quit. Or I can entice her to share one profoundly pleasurable night with me. Get it out of both of our systems—consequences be damned.

Guess which one I’m going to pick?





Chapter 4

TURNS OUT I DIDN’T GET BLUE BALLS after all. I met up with the coffee house girl that night. She’s a yoga instructor.

Nice.

What? Come on, don’t be like that. I want Kate, no question. But don’t expect me to act like a monk until it happens. The thing women don’t understand is that a guy can want one woman and still f*ck another one. Hell, a guy could love a woman and still f*ck ten others. It’s just the way it is.

Sex is a release. Purely physical. That’s all. At least to men it is.

Okay, okay—calm down—don’t start throwing shoes at me or something.

At least to this man it is. Better?

Maybe you’ll understand my point of view if I put it this way. You brush your teeth, right? Well, suppose your favorite toothpaste is Aquafresh. But the store is out. All they have is Colgate. What are you going to do? You’re going to use the Colgate, right?

You may want to brush with Aquafresh, but when all is said and done, you use what you have to keep those pearly whites clean. See my way of thinking? Good.