Page 7 of Pillow Talk

Chapter 3

Alexa

Oddly enough, we fall into comfortable conversation and find we do, in fact, have way more in common than I imagined possible, leaving the food long forgotten. I tell him about being in school, leaving out the part about how it’s taken me six years because I couldn’t afford to go full-time. He is in marketing and runs his own company, HALtech, which focuses on leading companies into the twenty-first century in terms of marketing and advertising. It’s small and relatively new; I’m intrigued by his ideas. When I ask about the company’s name, he explains each letter stands for a partner’s name, his jaw tightening when he speaks. I get the impression that it’s off limits.

The subject is quickly dropped, and he excuses himself to use the bathroom, so I immediately refill both of our mugs with fresh coffee at Vince’s insistence. Stirring creamer into mine keeps my hands busy while my mind replays the night so far. Hearing him talk about his company, I can tell it’s something he’s passionate about, but at the mention of his colleagues, he shuts down.

“Are you secretly a Jedi?” His raspy voice breaks through my thoughts.

“Hmmm?” I look up to find he’s returned and watching me.

“It looked like you were trying to stir the coffee with your mind.” His tone is teasing, and I’m relieved that his mood wasn’t spoiled from my earlier questioning. I realize I had released the spoon and my mind was lost in thought, watching the swirls of light brown dance in the mug.

“Oh, nope. No Jedi here. Just a lowly student and waitress,” I smile, belittling myself. I hate when people do that, so I’m annoyed with myself for doing the very same thing. I’m just so unsure how to present myself around him. The way he talks about what he does is genuine and not a show. I immediately feel bad for judging him.

“You’re forgetting something,” he chimes in, smiling that panty-melting smile. Taking my pause as a question he continues, “Future MBA graduate and master of marketing.”

My heart warms at his comments, and so does someplace a little further south. Being complimented or hit on for my looks is usually flattering, sometimes annoying. But, being complimented on my mind? That’s is such a turn on!

For a man to see you as more than a piece of meat for their visual and physical entertainment is gratifying on a level I’ve never known. Most of the men I’ve ever come close to having a relationship with seemed turned off by my brains and even more threatened by my drive to succeed.

“Wow, high praise coming from one so successful. Thank you for the compliment,” I offer, trying to hide the emotion in my voice.

“I should be thanking you. I may be successful, but it took time. You’ll get there too. But I have to say talking to you has been refreshing.” His forehead wrinkles as he makes an expression like he’s a little embarrassed at his confession. “It’s not often I get to discuss marketing trends with someone not already jaded by the industry. Seeing it through someone else’s eyes, someone still new to the game, seeing that same hunger…” He pauses and takes a sip of coffee.

His comment is left hanging in the air after the mention of the word hunger, and I can think of another type of hunger. One he could probably satisfy in record time, and my thighs press together at the thought.

Here I am on the opposite side of the spectrum, objectifying him.

“I suppose it’s my turn for a confession,” I speak up. “I honestly assumed that you would be narcissistic, only wanting to talk about yourself or your accomplishments. That’s if you spoke to me beyond ordering food.” A quick glance at his face tells me he’s curious, so I go on. “Most men like you, who I’ve encountered, have been self-serving and… I guess on my end, it’s refreshing to discover how approachable you are.”

“Men like me?” he questions me, and I worry my bottom lip. Oh, no. I’ve offended him.

“You know. You have to know,” I start, but he shakes his head.

“Typical suit. Successful, powerful and wealthy…. Gorgeous.” Jerking my head up so fast a few curls escape my bun, I realize that I did, in fact, say that. “Uhhh.”

“Don’t stop now; this is just getting good.” He crosses his arms over his chest, goading me.

Shaking off the embarrassment, I continue, “It’s just that you suit types are usually arrogant. But you seem quite the opposite.

“Don’t forget gorgeous.” He winks at me.

“Well, your suit is a little wrinkled, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to dock you a few points for that,” I point out.

“Hey, it was a rough day,” he defends himself.

“Want to talk about it?” I offer, genuinely concerned for someone whom I just met and the tension that crosses his features.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Nothing worth repeating. But my night has been incredibly better thanks to you. Or should I say morning?”

I follow his gaze outside and see the dawn is breaking. I can’t recall the last time I lost track of the time like that. Let alone with a man, a stranger at that.

"For the record, I wasn't watching you." He studies me, eyes asking for more. "In the window earlier," I continue explaining.

"For the record, I kind of hoped that you were," he offers, and while he has the hint of a smile on his lips, his eyes are serious. I could get lost in a gaze like that. The type of lost you don’t come back from.

Not sure how to respond, I stand up before I lose the ability to walk and melt into a puddle at his feet. "Well, guess I better get back to work."