Page 45 of Wicked Takeover
Lauren wasn’t certain whether to laugh or groan. “No. Please don’t.” She backed away. Her gauzy skirt fluttered.
Jasmina eyed her from head to toe.
Before she saw more than she should, Lauren fled to her office, closed the door, and ordered herself to get a grip. This was so unlike her. The last time she’d behaved as foolishly was when she’d spent Christmas Day in bed rather than online, looking for work. She’d wasted time that she wouldn’t get back.
Dante may have had countless relatives eager to help him, but Lauren didn’t have anyone.
Nor did she need them. She was strong. Independent. She’d survive.
Like she had another choice.
She sat in front of the computer and posted sale ads for the parlor on free online sites. The last batch she’d placed at other locations turned up zip except for young tattoo artists even more strapped for cash than she was. The callers expected her to carry them as they made minimum payments on the debt.
One guy had explained the concept. “It’ll be like what you do with a credit card balance. You can trust me. I’m good for it.”
She’d told him good luck with his career plans and hung up.
After she finished posting the parlor sale, she scoured job boards for HR positions. Several great openings dovetailed perfectly with her skills. As she fine-tuned her resume yet again, Wicked Brand started hopping. Voices drifted down the hall, both male and female. Jasmina offered everyone a cheery greeting. Van Gogh barely got out his subdued hellos.
Only Dante’s deep voice was absent.
Maybe it took hours to strong-arm a vendor for a cheaper price. Could be Dante had stopped at Castillo’s for boliche, asking for it in Spanish.
Lauren drooped in her chair, recalling his smooth, deep voice wrapped around words she hadn’t understood. No wonder they called Spanish a romance language. His lilting conversation with Ricardo made her toes curl and her heart sink. Dante had given her the best night she’d ever known, and all she could think about was how he’d ruined her for anyone else.
She was a hard-core realist, not a romantic. A woman alone had no other choice. And reality was that a man like Dante would not want a woman like her. Not for the long-term anyway. The sooner her brain convinced her heart of that, the better. So why wouldn’t her heart listen? Especially after everything it had been through?
Returning to her various resume drafts, she proofread each a dozen times, spell-and-grammar checked them, then suffered through the lengthy online forms. She was about to hit send on the last one when a firm knock sounded on her door.
Her heart shot to her throat. Everything else in her went weak with desire. “Yeah?”
She cringed at how weird and uncertain she sounded.
Jasmina opened the door, mouthed something, and smiled.
Lauren frowned. “What?”
Two bikers lumbered down the hall. They stopped to ogle Jasmina’s short cutoffs and long legs.
“Hey,” Van Gogh shouted. “That’s the office. Your appointments are back here with me.”
“Go on.” Firm now, Jasmina gestured the guys to where they should be, then hurried to Lauren’s desk. “Dante’s back.” She spoke quietly. “He doesn’t have a booking for an hour. Go for it.” Without waiting for an answer, she sped away and closed the door behind her.
Lauren held her breath. Selena’s “Dreaming of You” and loud male laughter competed with the blood rushing in her ears.
Jasmina had said to go for it.
Lauren already had and wanted to do it again, but for what? A few minutes of fun? Dante’s weight pressing into her, his heat and scent offering comfort?
Wasn’t enough. Already she wanted more from him. A real relationship. Dating. Getting to know each other. Falling in love. If she continued on this trek, she’d yearn hopelessly for those things and would lose her focus, opening herself to hurt. That wasn’t the woman she was.
She hit send and shot her application through cyberspace.
“Hey.” Dante had stopped outside her door and addressed someone in the hall.
Lauren froze.
Dante spoke again. “How’s it going?”
