Tough Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #2)(13)

She’s glowing. Again. I think she’s getting a bigger kick out of this than I am. Of course, I’m making a concerted effort not to. It’s not bad for Mona’s health to enjoy Rogan, but I can’t say the same for me.

“Impressed yet?” Rogan asks, standing and walking toward me to hand over the tall white cup. His wink says that he’s teasing me. His grin says that he’s pleased with himself. He’s like a proud little boy, sporting his first blue ribbon.

I stare up at him, so handsome in his charm, and I wish I could look away. But I can’t. “Impressed? You mean that you don’t suffer from short-term memory loss after being punched in the head too many times?” I say, garnering my defenses, defenses that I worry are crumbling even as I speak.

“Hey, in my line of work, that’s a distinct possibility.”

I smile politely up at him, determined not to let him see that he affects me. “Well, it takes more than a cup of coffee to impress me.”

He isn’t the least bit put off. “Even perfect coffee?”

“Too easy.”

“Too easy?” he asks in mock offense. I arch one brow at him and he gives in. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m giving you fair warning,” he declares, his voice dropping to a low, seductive timbre.

“Fair warning?” I ask.

He nods, all playfulness gone now. “Fair warning. I’ve got six weeks to impress you. And impress you I shall, Beautiful Katie.”

As I look into those captivating eyes, I remember his words. Makes me want to see you smile, I guess. I can’t help asking my one burning question again, only softly this time. “Why me?”

He doesn’t hesitate with his answer. “Something tells me you’re worth the effort.”

Air stops moving in and out of my concrete lungs, and all I can do is gaze up into Rogan’s incredibly handsome face as he reaches out to brush the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone. Through the fog of his considerable charisma, though, alarm bells start to ring inside my head.

“You’re wasting your time,” I manage to breathe out, trying desperately to hold on to my indifference.

“For the first time in a lot of years, I feel like I’m not.”

We stand like that—nose to nose, the backs of Rogan’s fingers against my cheek—staring at each other for who knows how long before I see a familiar smiling face peek over his shoulder. Only Mona, Amazon that she is, with the added help of her stilettos, could accomplish such a feat.

Her appearance and my subsequent blush break the spell. I glance back to Rogan, who is still watching me, paying Mona no attention whatsoever. “I guess I’d better drink some of this coffee before my client gets here. He’s always late. Unruly. Mean as anything. Just an impossible bear of a guy,” I tease lightly, anything to diffuse the tension that’s suddenly vibrating between us.

“Maybe I could give you a few tips on how to turn him into a * cat.”

“Oh, I don’t think he has any problems with *,” Mona murmurs snidely from behind Rogan.

My mouth drops open and it takes all my effort not to laugh, but when Rogan’s emerald eyes crinkle at the corners and his smile returns, full blast, I can’t seem to help myself.

“Mona!” I chastise around my chuckle and burning cheeks.

“What?” she asks. Her face is the picture of innocence as she rounds Rogan and stands beside us. “It’s the truth.”

Rogan clears his throat. “On that note, I think I’ll go have a seat and wait for my makeup artist. This conversation isn’t gonna do me any favors.”

As he walks back to the chair in front of the mirrors, Mona and I have an entire conversation in absolute silence.

I widen my eyes at her. Mona! She raises her brows at me. What? I shake my head once. Don’t do that! She gives me a little nod and a roll of her eyes. Fine. I take a deep breath. Calm, calm, calm. She reaches out and squeezes my hand. You’ve got this.

“Well, I guess I need to take myself upstairs and let you get to work. White won’t know how to act when I walk in this early. I usually bring my best friend some coffee, but since someone else has taken over my duties . . .”

She grins again and I peek around her to the broad-shouldered god sitting in my makeup chair. He doesn’t appear to be paying us any attention, but I know better than to assume that’s the case. He’s obviously much more observant than what I’ve given him credit for.

“Lunch?” I ask before Mona leaves.

“Lunch,” she replies, giving my hand a final squeeze before she dances out of the room, calling over her shoulder, “See ya later, Rogue.”

I grin when Rogan’s head whips around toward the door. “Did she just call me ‘Rogue’?”

“She did. She must’ve decided she likes you. She only gives nicknames to people she likes.”

I take a sip of my coffee, letting it warm what little bit of my insides aren’t already toasty, as I make my way to my station.

“And what do you do once you decide you like somebody?”

I turn to look at Rogan over my shoulder. He raises guilty eyes to mine, eyes that I caught staring at my butt. My prim reply dies on my lips and another bubbles up in response, a response that’s reminiscent of the old me. Because, for some reason, for just a heartbeat, I feel like my old self again. The self who had confidence and hope for a bright future. The self who was able to hold her own with guys no matter what they looked like. The self who was worth so much more than what I’ve become.