Submission Specialist(Still a Bad Boy #2)(67)

“I… um… Mr… Jace. I… uh… read that you went to the group home when you were six. Do you remember anything about your parents?”

For the first time since I’d laid eyes on him, Jace’s mask of confidence cracked for a moment. Through the seams, as he pulled away and leaned back in his seat, I caught a flash of anger and a slow river of sadness flowing underneath.

Then it was gone, and Jace Barlow, the living enigma, was back. He looked at me through slightly narrowed eyes as he ran his tongue over his teeth inside his mouth before taking a deep breath.

Before he could let out whatever it was he was going to say, a ringtone came from his pocket and the air puffed out of him wordlessly. He pulled his phone out without saying anything to me, looked at the caller displayed on the screen and then answered it.

“Get anything important?” He asked without greeting, then paused for a moment. “Oh, that motherf...”

He looked at me and from side to side at the other diners. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be back in a few. Order some dessert if you want it.”

“Everything OK?” I asked.

“No. Business.”

He stood and began talking in hushed tones as he stalked between the rows of tables and past the woman at the front desk, who was dealing with a younger couple, and out the front door. Instead of perusing the dessert menu I pulled out my own phone and called my boss, feeling shaky from the rollercoaster of Jace toying with my emotions and his sharp withdrawal.

“Hello?” said Mr. Kinsley.

“Mr. Kinsley, it’s me, Kendall,” I said.

“How did it go? Is it over? Did you get everything?”

“I’m still at the restaurant, he’s just stepped out to take a phone call.”

“How is it going?” he repeated.

“It’s… um… Mr. Kinsley,” I looked around and then held my hand over my mouth and the phone, speaking in a harsh whisper. “He’s flirting with me! What do I do?”

A stunned silence was my only response for a while. “Flirt back?” he finally said, disbelief evident in his voice.

“That’s not, like, unprofessional or anything?” I asked.

The sound of his voice went distant for a second before I heard a few muffled curses. “No, Kendall. Use it if you’ve got it. All the greats have done it.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Go ahead. You nail this interview and you’re set for life at The Weekly Enquirer, you know that, right?”

“Oh my gosh… OK. I won’t let you down, Mr. Kinsley!”

“Great, call me as soon as it’s over,” he said.

“OK. Bye.”

“Bye.” I put my phone away and looked for Jace, but it seemed that his call was more involved than mine.

OK. Flirt back. Easy, women have the upper hand on that front, right? Except… I had no idea what to do. My sisters had tried to explain the art to me, but it just never clicked.

The fact that it came so naturally to them, apparently to every woman but me, had always made me feel almost less than human, like there was something special missing from me that made me worth less than everybody else. They could do more with a flick of their hair or a bitten bottom lip than I could ever do.

Yet, hadn’t Jace been looking at me all night, like I was just as appetizing as the masterfully crafted meals that had been placed in front of us? At his office too?

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach when I remembered him looking down my top as if he liked the view. I glanced furtively from side to side and then looked down myself.

My breasts were on the small side, not like his receptionist, not like all the girls he had his photograph taken with. But he did look.

Clearing my throat quietly as if that was a good distraction I brought my hand to the top of my shirt, near my neck. I could feel it shaking as my inhibitions fought tooth and nail with my need to do what it took to prove myself in the big wide world and my desire to have Jace’s eyes on me.

I undid the top button and pushed the sides of my shirt open a little. It was, possibly, the bravest thing I ever did.

Nobody eating around me seemed to notice the shameless hussy in their midst and I laid my hands flat on the table to keep them steady while I braced myself to pour on whatever charm I could muster.

The young couple who had been at the front desk walked between the tables, led by a waiter, talking loudly and all puffed up with self-importance. They both looked a little on the merry side and the woman stumbled on her high heels as she was passing our table.

Her thigh bumped the edge and my glass of wine toppled straight into my lap. I yelped at the sudden cold on my thighs and scrambled for a napkin.