“Another reason to pay cash.” I reached for her hand. “You used to work at Maxie’s? How’d that come about?”
The question made her nervous. She tried to hide it. But ever since I’d placed the kiss on the side of her neck, I’d become obsessed with that graceful arch. So I noticed when her pulse jumped beneath that smooth white skin.
“Maxie is a friend of my mom’s. She gave me a job when I came back here and decided to go to school.”
“Nepotism at work.”
She looked away. “Something like that. The weekend hours didn’t conflict with my class schedule. The money was decent.”
I ran my thumb across her knuckles. “Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”
“Twenty-eight. Why?”
“I would’ve guessed younger.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t guess older. God knows I feel it most days.”
Silence stretched out between us.
Lennox focused on the dance floor and I focused on her. She was a delicate beauty, from the long arch of her neck to her angular jawline. Even my Nordic mother would envy her high cheekbones. Her nose turned up slightly at the end, giving her an aristocratic look. Her eyebrows were several shades darker than her blond hair, making her eyes the most prominent feature on her face.
She turned her head and those caramel-colored eyes bored into me. “Do I pass your inspection?”
“You know you do.”
“Then why are you staring at me?”
“Because you’re beautiful. You’d think I was a pervert if you caught me staring at you during working hours. And earlier today I didn’t have much of a chance to look at your face since you had your back to the basketball court. But I did get a pretty good look at your ass.”
“And?”
I lifted her hand to my mouth to kiss the center of her palm. “World-class, baby.”
She laughed. “Is this a practiced charm, Mr. Lund?”
“No. Why? Does it seem as if I’m feeding you a line?”
“Honestly? No. But I’m still a little confused by all of this, if you want to know the truth.” Her eyes searched mine. “You’re not the kind of guy I usually date.”
“How so? What makes me different?”
“First of all, you have a steady job. That’s a plus.”
“And?” I’d kept ahold of her hand and I brushed my mouth over the pulse point on her wrist.
“And we’ve established that you’re a boss, but not my boss, yet it feels like I’m not supposed to be out with you.”
“And?”
“And when you kissed me, I know if we were alone I would have been naked in less than four seconds and you’d have your hands all over me . . . and then I wouldn’t care less about your job or mine or anything else.”
“More like two seconds before I’d have you stripped with my hands and mouth all over you,” I half growled.
Lennox turned her head and touched her lips to the corner of my jaw. “Is it too truthful if I say I’m out of my league with you?”
“No, but you couldn’t be more wrong. I like that you are hot, and sexy and wild. In fact, I want you to teach me how to cut loose and unleash my inner wild man.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Remember earlier today when you said you’d heard I work seven days a week? It’s true. But my family has intervened and is trying to get me to change that.”
“Ah, so that’s what last night at Maxie’s was about. A Lund family intervention.”
I snapped my mouth shut. Maybe this wasn’t something I was supposed to admit.
The waitress returned, giving me a chance to regroup. She set down the drinks and said, “That’ll be twenty-two dollars.”
I pulled out my wallet and dropped thirty bucks on her tray. “Keep it.”
“Thank you, sir.” She took off.
Lennox sipped her martini. Even over the loud music I heard her soft, sexy groan of approval.
“Good?”
“It should be, for what you paid for it.”
I shrugged and took a swig of my beer. I watched the action on the dance floor. Bodies gyrating to hip-hop really made me feel out of my element. It was doubtful that the dance classes my mother had inflicted on me would come in handy since stripper moves hadn’t been part of the curriculum. Maybe I should’ve watched Magic Mike.
“Brady?”
“Yeah?” I said, still taking stock of what was happening on the dance floor.
“Do you want to change?”
My gaze snapped back to Lennox.
“Or are you just going along with your family’s ‘intervention’ to keep them off your back?”
How had she picked up on that? I could’ve lied to her, but it felt wrong. “I probably need to change some things. I do work too much. I don’t have much of a life. But what bugs me about the whole intervention thing is my family assumes I’ve got an inner wild man. What if I don’t?”