Neanderthal Seeks Human(101)

He nodded.

“Which part? Yes to which part?”

“You look like her. I thought you were Jem when I first saw you.” He looked like he would have preferred to discuss anything else including, perhaps, the menstrual cycle of koalas or the regulations surrounding peanut butter manufacturing.

I slid my teeth to the side, “Is that why you wanted to kiss me? Because you thought I was her?” I quoted Quinn’s admission from the night of our first kiss. Something hard settled in my stomach and made my mouth taste sour, like stale wine and postage stamps, at the possibility.

He shook his head, “No, God- no. I think I noticed you at first because of the resemblance. I can honestly say I’ve never wanted to kiss your sister.”

“When did you figure out that we weren’t the same person?”

He folded his hand of cards and held them on his lap; Quinn leaned forward with his elbows on his knees; “The day after I first saw you, weeks before we spoke. I did a very thorough background check on you to make sure you weren’t Jem.” I was impressed by the starkness of his tone even though the admission looked like it cost him something. His eyes were weary.

I was also impressed by his continuing more than technical honesty even if it felt like I was prying the answers out of him.

I considered this information, I considered him. “Is that why you escorted me out? You thought- if I were Jem- I’d blow something up?”

“No. Like I said, I knew you weren’t her.”

“Then why did you pose as a security guard?”

“I didn’t pose. I like to spend time on the floor with my team, especially when we take on a new project. We’d just taken over security for the building and moved into the top floor. I wanted to…” He looked away, sighed, then met my eyes again, “I wanted to get a sense of the other people who worked in the building.”

“And you escorted me out because you wanted to get a sense of who no longer worked in the building?”

“No.” He said.

“No?” I prompted.

“No.” He said, this time a little more firmly, pronounced.

“Hmm…” I surveyed him for a long moment and we entered into an old fashioned staring contest. He had an unfair advantage because I was, basically, intoxicated.

Finally I spoke, “Why did you escort me out?”

He flexed his jaw even though his eyes were lit with mischief and a Mona Lisa smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, “How many cards do you need?”

“Don’t avoid the question-”

“I’m not. But, for the record,” he placed three of his cards in the discard pile and took three from the top of the deck, “I know you were watching me too.”

I blinked at him, “Watching you?”

He nodded, his eyes narrowed wickedly, “In the lobby, hiding behind plants. You would come down with your lunch and watch me while I worked.”

Button pushed, I blushed to my ears and quietly turned my attention to my cards. After a long moment I gave him all four but the ace. I felt like I’d been caught with my hand down my pants, feeling both embarrassed but pleased that he’d noticed and seemed to like it.

“I wasn’t watching you.” I mumbled.

“Yes- yes you were.”

I glanced at him for a brief moment, found him watching me with a look that bordered on menacing, then smashed my lips together to keep from smiling.

“You better have an ace.” He handed me four new cards.

“I have an ace.” I plucked them from his outstretched hand, careful not to touch him, “Do you want to see it?”

“Oh, I’ll see it soon enough.”

I glanced up from my new cards and met Quinn’s steady gaze with an unsteady one of my own.

Smolder, schmolder. His eyes held such an intensity of promise I wondered if it would be best just to forfeit and strip naked now. I knew the only way I was going to win this game was to cheat.

My main problem was that I wasn’t sure I wanted to win.





CHAPTER 20




I glared at him.

Through my bottle of wine induced haze I’d been counting cards; so I knew he’d been cheating for the last few hands. But, I couldn’t admit to counting cards otherwise I would have to admit that had been cheating the whole time. Also, I was down to my underwear, tank top, bra, and one sock. Meanwhile, he had his tie- no shirt- boxer briefs, and one sock.

This last hand meant that we were tied.

He laughed, shuffling the cards, his blue eyes actually dancing with merriment; “So, sock or shirt?”

I was still sitting on the floor with my back to the bed; he was sitting on the couch and the ottoman was between us, sill serving as a table.