Well Built (Book Boyfriend #3)(14)

Still, she was wavering, and he didn't want to give her the chance to turn him down. "I'd really like to talk and catch up," he said, opting for a safe, unthreatening approach. "We're going to be seeing a lot of each other while I'm renovating the building over the next few months, so it would be nice if we could at least be friends."

The last part of his statement seemed to be the deciding factor for her as she finally conceded. "Okay. I need to call my father's caretaker to make sure she can stay a few more hours with him."

"Sure." He didn't question the relief that flowed through him, followed by a surge of elation that spoke to just how happy he was to have her all to himself for a couple more hours. "I'll give you a few minutes to yourself to make your call, and I'll meet you back in the reception area."

He walked out and closed the door behind him, then started down the hall just as he heard Ella say, "Hi, Betsy. I was wondering if . . ."

He didn't stick around to eavesdrop on her conversation. Her voice trailed off the farther away he walked, until he was in the front area of the office, where Daphne was grabbing her purse from one of the drawers in her desk. It was past time for her to leave, and as she glanced up at him, an amused look touched her pretty features.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked curiously. "Not that you don't smile, but you look like someone just gave you the best gift ever."

He laughed, not realizing until Daphne had pointed it out that, yes, he was grinning like an idiot. All because he was going to dinner with Ella.

"Maybe someone did give me the best gift ever," he replied humorously. Because at the moment, he couldn't imagine a better present than spending more time with the beautiful, sexy woman down the hall. He wasn't able to recall the last time he'd felt that way about a woman, anxious and excited and filled with anticipation. It was crazy that, after all these years, it was Ella of all people who inspired that sense of enthusiasm.



       
         
       
        

"Your unexpected visitor?" the receptionist guessed.

He nodded, still grinning.

Daphne looked him up and down, a mischievous glimmer in her gaze. "Exactly what kind of present are we talking about here?" she asked, her insinuation clear.

He chuckled. Daphne had been with the company for over a year. She had a naughty sense of humor, and this certainly wasn't the first time she'd teased one of the guys. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Daphne. She's an old friend," he said, choosing to keep the fact that she was an ex-girlfriend to himself. "It's been a while since we've seen one another."

"An old friend, huh?" she repeated, evidently not believing him. "Like one of your other women ‘friends' who've come by the office?" She waggled her brows.

Daphne was obviously referring to the other females he casually dated, whom he'd always politely referred to as "friends," since a hookup or fuck buddy sounded way too crass, even if that's what they truly were. Dinner at a nice restaurant because it was polite to feed his date, a bit of casual conversation, and no-strings-attached fucking. There was never any pretense or promises that it would ever be anything more than that-and none of those females ever made him want to tie himself to one person.

For years he'd told himself he didn't have time for a relationship, that work and the company were his priority, but the truth was, he hadn't really given any one woman a real chance. Either that or he just hadn't found one who piqued his interest or stimulated him mentally-physically it was a given-for more than just a few nights of mutual pleasure.

He didn't respond to Daphne's innuendo. Instead, he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six. "Shouldn't you be gone already?"

"I'm leaving right now," she said as she brushed past where he was standing, then stopped at the glass door to glance over her shoulder at him with a devious smile on her face. "Have a nice evening with your friend."

He certainly planned to.





Chapter Four





Good God, what was she thinking?

Ella disconnected the call she'd just made to her father's longtime caretaker, Betsy, closed her eyes, and pressed the cell phone to her forehead. What she really ought to be doing was bashing it against her skull to knock some sense into her addled brain for letting her attraction to her long-ago ex-boyfriend soften her determination to keep things strictly impersonal between them. But no, she'd actually agreed to go to dinner with Kyle Coleman . . . the man who'd broken her heart not once but twice now. The first time when he'd walked out of her life ten years ago and again when he'd bought the Piedmont building right out from under her.