But the rest of Caleb’s statement kind of faded away as the pub door opened and a group of people walked in, only one of whom he’d expected to see. Joseph, freshly arrived back from his honeymoon, yes. Marisa, currently arm-in-arm with Christie, no. Not under any circumstances.
He found himself pulling at his jacket again, his fingers searching restlessly for something to straighten as Marisa’s gaze met his. She paled and her jaw tightened, but then she lifted her chin and approached the table where he and Cal were sitting with no apparent hesitation.
She wore skinny jeans with a wraparound kind of shirt in a silky purple fabric, her golden hair lose all down her back. And despite the fact that he hadn’t seen her for two weeks, that he’d thought that furtive interlude in the office was the end of it, electricity whispered over his skin.
Bloody. Bastard. Hell. And balls, for good measure.
He surged to his feet, not realizing what he was doing until it was too late. Until everyone was staring at him. “I’ll get the drinks,” he said curtly. Without waiting for a response, he turned and started heading for the bar.
Coward.
No, he wasn’t being a coward. He needed to get the drinks. And give himself a moment to get back in control, try to figure out why the chemistry between him and Marisa Clair continued to burn, because it shouldn’t. As with any of his compulsions, once he’d satisfied the urge, it faded. So why the need for Marisa should still be there, and still be strong, he had no idea.
He didn’t want her in his head, messing up his schedules. He didn’t want her around at all.
…
Marisa sat in her chair and tried not to pay any attention to Luke. A bit difficult with his silver eyes staring at her with uncomfortable intensity from over the table.
How bloody typical that he should be here. She and Christie were supposed to be having a girls’ evening, the first one since Christie’s return from honeymoon. But then Chris had decided to invite Joseph because apparently they were surgically attached at the hip. Joseph who was on his way to meeting up with Caleb and—ugh—Luke.
Viewing it as a test made it more bearable. They had to get along in a social context after all, and that first meeting was always going to be awkward.
She hadn’t quite realized quite how awkward it was going to be until she’d laid eyes on him. Sitting at the table, all dark and scowly and broody and hot. In a suit—she was sure when he took off his suit at night, there was another one underneath it—with his tie knotted tight and his shirt all buttoned up. Making her want to…
Ahem. Straight and narrow. No more hot lusty-pants. Carpe diem, et cetera.
“Oooh,” Christie said to Joseph as some loud, thrashy song came on over the jukebox. “Come on, husband. I wanna dance.”
Much to Marisa’s annoyance, Christie dragged Joseph up from the table to have a jump around on the dance floor. And then, to make matters worse, Caleb got a phone call, which entailed him having to leave the pub for somewhere quieter. Which left her and Luke sitting at the table by themselves.
So awkward.
Silence reigned for what was probably a millennium. Marisa busied herself with her phone, checking for any texts she hadn’t replied to. Refreshing her e-mail in-box. Having another game of Angry Birds.
“So,” Luke said stiffly. “How are things?”
She decided that staring at him would be a bad idea, keeping her eyes on the screen and firing a big red bird at a particularly smug-looking pig. “Things are just dandy.”
Another silence.
Luke cleared his throat. “And you’re keeping well?”
Keeping well? Seriously? She risked a glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Hmmm. Has that stick up your butt gotten longer in the past two weeks by any chance?”
He scowled at her. “I’m trying to be polite.”
Well, actually, he was. And kudos to him. He wouldn’t be liking this situation any more than she was. “Yes,” she said, making an effort. “I’m keeping well. Thank you for asking.”
Luke adjusted the coaster underneath his beer glass. “And…ah…nothing’s changed?”
“What do you mean, nothing’s changed?”
He shifted around in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “Since we…met.”
Oh boy. If he hadn’t been so bloody annoying, his discomfort would have been rather adorable. Endearing even. And she couldn’t resist a small tweak. “Since we screwed up against the door in my office’s stationery supply room? You mean that?”
His jaw had gone tight. “Yes.”
Marisa turned off her game and gave him her full attention. “And I presume you’re talking about the state of my menstrual cycle?”