"Is? Present tense? So you're seeing him again?"
She turned, bright, tropical-print pants in hand. "I don't see how that's any of your business."
"Wear the green dress," he said, unfazed. He returned his attention to his paperwork.
A clothing rack serving as her closet stood at the end of her bed. The new-to-her, safari-style green silk button-down dress he'd referred to hung in a primo spot at the end. She'd picked the dress out of her latest acquirements for the store the day she left to go to Landon's. Other than the one time she tried it on, she hadn't worn it.
Mick's mouth kicked into a half smile. "You look good in green."
She shoved the empty suitcase under her bed, not wanting to have this conversation with him. It was … weird. "Are you going to be here much longer? I have to get ready."
He spared her a glance. "Tonight? You're seeing him tonight?"
Frustrated, she held up her palms. "Yes. I'm seeing him tonight."
His face puckered, not liking that for whatever reason. He slid off the stool and moseyed over to her and she tensed, unsure what he was going to do. He palmed her shoulders and she stood prone, wanting to swat him away but not wanting to hurt his feelings. They were in such a predicament. She didn't hate him. But she didn't really like him. And she'd never really loved him. More the idea of him. The idea that she could have forever with a man who enjoyed the same things she did. A man who had a vested interest in her future. Now they were co-workers and partners, no longer lovers or roommates, their relationship inconvenient and unpredictable in every way.
"You're not this girl, Kimber." As if consoling her, he rubbed her upper arms. She shrugged him off. Maybe because he had a point.
She'd never been the type of girl capable of an unattached fling, with a millionaire or otherwise. Look at her and Mick. She was supposed to take him home for one night of fun and had swathed him into her life instead.
"Maybe I am now," she said. She'd have to be. Because there was no way she and Landon were ending with her in retched heartache because she'd turned this into something it wasn't.
Mick sighed and turned away, taking the report he'd been reading with him. "Have it your way." He paused at the door. "But I'll hate gloating when this jerk ends up hurting you."
"No you won't," she said. Unfairly, probably. "But thanks. Your support is overwhelming."
Mick didn't argue and she was glad. He patted the door with one hand before shutting it behind him.
Kimber sat on the edge of her bed. She refused to let herself end up hurt. She could have an affair without getting super involved. Landon was in no position to get super involved, so in a way, he was as safe as they came.
She stood and lifted the green dress off the rack, holding it against her body. The full-length mirror showed a woman with red hair, rosy cheeks, and the will and ability to have a fling if she damn well pleased. There wasn't time for any longer of a pep talk than that.
She had a date to get to.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After dinner in the Hancock building's restaurant on the ninety-fifth floor-yeah, he'd been showing off-Landon held Kimber's hand as they walked down Navy Pier. He watched her lick an ice cream cone out of the corner of his eye. The sight of her tongue was enough to make him cut the date short and drag her home right then. If not for how fun she was to hang out with, he may have. She offered him the rest, and he ate it, keeping hold of her hand with his free one.
Even for August, the weather was cooler than usual, an almost refreshing breeze rolling off the lake and chilling his bare arms beneath the short sleeves of his polo shirt.
His eyes traveled over Kimber's dress again. Sitting across from her at the dimly lit restaurant had kept her body from view. Now, out in the open, he could look his fill. She looked … God. She looked incredible.
At first glance, the green dress was nothing remarkable: a simple, sleeveless number with pockets and a tie at the middle. But on her body … Wow. The dress skimmed over her supple thighs in a way that made his mouth water.
They'd stopped to admire the moonlight bouncing off the water, but he couldn't keep his eyes on the scenery. She'd worn her hair up in a ponytail, wavy strands framing her face. His gaze snapped to her thighs again, and he followed the length of her bare legs down to flat, strappy sandals and painted toenails. He remembered the feel of those legs wrapped around him, her heels digging into his butt as she'd pulled him closer. The sound of her high-
The weight of her gaze pulled him out of the memory. He was staring. Quite possibly drooling.
A small smirk sat on her mouth as if she knew what he'd been thinking. It was all he could do not to taste her lips. The only thing stopping him was the reminder that while this was technically a date, it wasn't a real one. This was the foreplay to what would come after. For both their sakes, he'd do well to remember that clause in their agreement.
He tugged her to a nearby bench. They sat quietly and listened to the sounds of the pier: musicians playing, children laughing, rides spinning. "We could get on the Ferris wheel, you know." He hadn't been on a Ferris wheel since he'd moved here straight out of college. Hadn't had the urge to get on one since, but with Kimber it sounded fun. With Kimber, everything sounded fun.
"And what, make out?" she asked.
He closed his arm around her waist, her silken dress beneath his fingers as smooth as her skin. "Yes." His voice came out a low growl.
She laughed and rested a hand on his thigh, her touch burning a hole through the light slacks he'd worn. Her fingers traced a circle over the material and he shifted, a certain part of him stirring. If she wasn't careful, she'd awaken the sleeping giant.
"I have to admit, I was surprised you asked me on a date."
"Why?" he asked. But he knew.
Her ponytail slid over her shoulder when she tilted her head to look at him. "Because it wasn't on the list."
Tensing, he gave a subtle shake of his head. "You really are all about the list, aren't you?" For some reason it frustrated him to have to plan for everything. Or maybe it frustrated him that she had to plan for everything. Which wasn't like him at all. He loved plans. Normally.
"I have to be," she muttered.
He tipped her chin, forcing her eyes to his. "What does that mean?"
She licked her bottom lip and clamped on to it with her teeth. A memory of the first kiss they'd shared, of the moment she'd climbed atop him and speared her fingers into his hair and kissed him for all she was worth echoed a sentiment stirring the giant to life. He was going to have to limp out of here if he didn't kill this line of thinking.
"I don't want to be your Lissa."
Her comment startled as much as angered him. She was nothing like Lissa. Kimber was warm and responsive and cared, probably too much, about everyone she came in contact with. It bothered him that she'd compare herself to the heartless supermodel who'd left him in the dust for no more than a publicity stunt. Further, it bothered him that Kimber could ever imagine he'd treat her like he had Lissa. He'd been more careful, more gentle, more open, with Kimber than he had with anyone in a long, long time.
The anger built the longer he considered her comment, which was probably why, when he did speak, the question came out surlier than he'd intended. "And what the hell does that mean?"
She placed a soft kiss on his mouth. "Nothing."
Something. But he'd better not push her. He'd already opened a can of thought best left sealed.
"You want to check off the list and walk away," he said, reiterating her original request. He'd been all for that-still was all for it. But those two words "walk away" niggled at him. Why? Because your list is ongoing and can't be completely checked off.
"Exactly," she said, her expression stoic. She slid her hand higher on his thigh. "Back home?"
His heart gave the faintest clench. He knew she was referring to his home, not hers. For a short period of time it'd been her home as well. In her mind, maybe it still was her home. In the interim.
The realization warmed him. Even though it shouldn't.
Kimber pulled the sheet over her breasts as Landon held on to a corner to cover his bare butt. He arranged himself on the balcony sofa, head resting on the back of it, chest glistening with sweat in the moonlight.
"I can't believe we did that out here," she said, lifting a lock of hair from her forehead. She sent a furtive glance at the buildings surrounding them and prayed no one had equipped their window with a telescope. She'd seen a movie like that once.
"We had to," he said, his voice low and deep and damn sexy. "It was number five."
"And we have to go in order."