Dane ran his eyes rapidly down the page. “Tell Stevenson I’m not going to meet him after all.”
“Got it.” She jotted a note down on her pad. “Before I go, I can ask you something?”
He nodded.
She showed him the card. “Is this ‘D’ you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
A smile curled his lips. “I always sign cards that way, because ‘DP’ would send the wrong signal. I never, ever share.”
She stood nonplussed for a moment before deciding that he’d misunderstood her question on purpose. But pressing him would be futile, especially since she had no idea what he was talking about. She nodded and returned to her desk, then googled “DP.”
The search results made her jaw drop. Double penetration.
The entry also included “related acronyms,” all designed to inform the naïve like her. DAP, double anal penetration. DVA—
Heat flooded her cheeks, and she closed the browser, holding her forehead in one hand.
Later that day, when she went to give him his afternoon coffee, she said, “You could’ve used your full name.”
“I could have.” His tone was as grave as a minister’s, but his eyes twinkled. “But that would make it even more inappropriate. My middle name is Adam.”
Her mouth formed an O as her cheeks grew hot.
“Don’t worry. I’m not the only one in the family with shitty initials.”
Was this one of the ways his parents had fought each other?
Sophia had been neglected, but none of her parents had actively used her to make a point with each other. Shame surged at the way she’d called him an entitled jerk who’d had too much privilege. Material abundance could never make up for emotional scars. She shouldn’t have judged him without knowing anything about his personal struggles.
At six thirty, Dane pulled up at the restaurant where she’d made his reservation for that evening. “Let’s go.”
“Aren’t you meeting someone?” she asked.
“Why would you think that?”
She looked at him. “You can’t possibly mean to buy me dinner for the next two weeks.”
“Of course I’m going to buy you dinner. It would be cruel to have you wait in the car while I eat.” His voice dropped half an octave. “Like I said before, I don’t like to eat with my family.”
He meant he didn’t like to eat with Salazar. Knowing what she knew, she couldn’t blame him. She nodded and they went inside.
And so the rest of the week went. Roxie and Amy wanted to know who kept sending flowers to her in the morning, but Sophia demurred, not wanting to be the center of office gossip. She might not have much corporate work experience, but she knew any kind of romantic entanglement with a boss was a big deal.
Thankfully he was always so cold and formally polite that nobody in the office suspected he was the one behind all the bouquets. But he was impossible at the family house. He paraded around topless, stole danishes and slices of bacon from her plate every morning—making sure to somehow brush her with his arm or hand each time—and made double-entendres when saying good night. If all that wasn’t bad enough, he spoiled Roco by sneaking him treats and taking him out for runs. She could withstand a lot, but kindness to Roco…
On Sunday, Dane was out playing fetch with her dog. Sophia went up to him, determined to put an end to the whole thing.
Her traitorous heart picked up its tempo at the sight of him scratching Roco behind the ears. The poodle’s eyes had turned into slits of bliss. Then Dane stood and threw a stick halfway across the field they were in. Roco dashed off.
“Okay, you have to stop.”
“Roco will be disappointed,” he said, taking off his shirt and pretending to wipe imaginary sweat from his lean, muscular torso.
She flushed in spite of herself, and tried clearing her throat authoritatively. “I’m not talking about my dog, and you know it. What kind of game are you playing?”
“What makes you think it’s a game?”
“You promised to treat me fairly, and now you’re sending me flowers, playing with Roco…”
“Is it working?”
“If you’re trying to drive me crazy, yes.”
Dane laughed. “I’m treating you the way I would have if my father weren’t in the picture. You should appreciate the time and effort I’m putting in. I’ve never bought flowers for a woman I wanted to sleep with.”
His bald confession took her breath away. Her body tingled, and heat gathered between her thighs. “Is that what this is about? You’re trying to get me to sleep with you?”
“I’m not trying to get you to do anything.” Dane crouched and patted Roco as he brought the stick back. “The ball’s entirely in your court. Yes, I want to sleep with you, but I’m not sure what you want.” He threw the stick again, and Roco charged off, barking excitedly. Dane straightened and faced her. “You lost a lot after your father passed away, mostly the ability to do as you please. Your choices became limited. I don’t want you to be pushed into something you aren’t sure about.” He rested a large, warm hand on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “There are a lot of things we have no say in. Sex shouldn’t be one of them.”