Page 18 of Tempt
I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t on the job anymore, asshole. I was supposed to be on a plane, but my flight was canceled.”
“Sure.” He signaled to the bartender to bring us another round.
“I seriously regret telling you about her.” I didn’t often share personal details, but Jackson had called me out for being distracted after returning from New York, and I’d confessed that I’d met a woman I couldn’t stop thinking about. “Anyway, no, she never called.”
“Huh. Maybe you lost your touch.”
“I didn’t lose my touch.” I rolled my shoulders. “It was just a one-night thing.”
“I thought you said you gave her your business card.”
“I did.”
“So you must have wanted to see her again,” he prodded.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing her again.” I tried to sound casual, as if she hadn’t been starring in my dreams for a month. “But I’ve got other things to worry about.”
“True,” agreed Jackson.
“I don’t really want to make this trip,” I admitted, running a hand over my jaw.
“I know you don’t.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “But I also know what kind of man you are, so you’ll make it anyway.”
Then I’d gone home and lain awake for hours, recalling again how Mason had asked Andi if I was a good person.
And I thought about her response too.
I thought so at the time.
CHAPTER5
MILLIE
“Earth to Millie.” Winnie snapped her fingers in front of my face.
“Sorry, what?” I refocused on my sister and our surroundings—the lobby of the strength training studio where we’d just taken our usual Thursday morning class.
“Have you heard anything I’ve said?” Exasperated, my sister opened the locker where we’d stashed our keys and phones.
I bit my lip. Had I?
In truth, my mind was a bit fuzzy. The strength training coach’s muscular arms had reminded me of Zach’s, and I’d spent the entire hourlong class lost in the memories of his body above mine. I’d barely registered anything else—the exercises, the music, the other people in the room.
But it wasn’t just today.
I’d been having trouble concentrating for a month—ever since I got back from New York. No matter what I was doing or who I was talking to, my mind had an uncanny ability to circle back to a night spent in Zach Barrett’s hotel room. I could read entire pages of a book and not register one word. I had to ask people to repeat questions. I’d catch myself staring into space at my desk or kitchen table and realize five minutes had gone by while I replayed portions of our time together.
My vibrator had gotten more use the past few weeks than it had the past year.
“Can you repeat the last thing?” I took her puffy vest off the hanger and handed it to her.
She shoved her arms through the holes and freed her long ponytail from the collar. “I asked how the fashion show plans were coming along.”
I pulled on my jacket and zipped it up. “Good. Really good, actually.”
“Did you hear back from the one designer you were waiting on?”
“Yes—and she’s in.” I grinned. “So I’ve got six designers, each committed to five looks. Date set—first Saturday in March, models are hired, DJ is booked. So far, it’s all going smoothly.”
