“I’ve enjoyed myself this week, thank you, Jack. Yes, I think I made the right decision.”
“You’re a very bright girl, Ana. You’ll go far.”
I blush. “Thank you,” I mutter, because I don’t know what else to say.
“Do you live far?”
“The Pike Market district.”
“Not far from me.” Smiling, he moves even closer and leans against the bar, effectively trapping me. “Do you have any plans this weekend?”
“Well . . . um—”
I feel him before I see him. It’s as if my whole body is highly attuned to his presence.
It relaxes and ignites at the same time—a weird, internal duality—and I sense that strange pulsing electricity.
Christian drapes his arm around my shoulder in a seemingly casual display of affection—but I know differently. He is staking a claim, and on this occasion, it’s very welcome.
Softly he kisses my hair.
“Hello, baby,” he murmurs.
I can’t help but feel relieved, safe, and excited with his arm around me. He draws me to his side, and I glance up at him while he stares at Jack, his expression impassive. Turning his attention to me, he gives me a brief crooked smile followed by a swift kiss. He’s wearing his navy pinstriped jacket over jeans and an open white shirt. He looks edible.
Jack shuffles back uncomfortably.
“Jack, this is Christian,” I mumble apologetically. Why am I apologizing? “Christian, Jack.”
“I’m the boyfriend,” Christian says with a small, cool smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he shakes Jack’s hand. I glance up at Jack who is mentally assessing the fine specimen of manhood in front of him.
“I’m the boss,” Jack replies arrogantly. “Ana did mention an ex-boyfriend.”
“Well, no longer ex,” Christian replies calmly. “Come on, baby, time to go.”
“Please, stay and join us for a drink,” Jack says smoothly.
I don’t think that’s a good idea. Why is this so uncomfortable? I glance at Claire, who is, of course staring, open-mouthed and with frankly carnal appreciation at Christian.
When will I stop caring about the effect he has on other women?
“We have plans,” Christian replies with his enigmatic smile.
We do? And a frisson of anticipation runs through my body.
“Another time, perhaps,” he adds. “Come,” he says to me as he takes my hand.
“See you Monday.” I smile at Jack, Claire, and the guys from finance, trying hard to ignore Jack’s less-than-pleased expression, and follow Christian out of the door.
Taylor is at the wheel of the Audi waiting at the curb.
“Why did that feel like a pissing contest?” I ask Christian as he opens the car door for me. “Because it was,” he murmurs and gives me his enigmatic smile then shuts my door.
“Hello, Taylor,” I say and our eyes meet in the review mirror.
“Miss Steele,” Taylor acknowledges with a genial smile.
Christian slides in beside me, clasps my hand, and gently kisses my knuckles. “Hi,” he says softly.
My cheeks turn pink, knowing that Taylor can hear us, grateful that he can’t see the scorching, panty-combusting look that Christian is giving me. It takes all my self-restraint not to leap on him right here, in the back seat of the car.
“Hi,” I breathe, my mouth dry.
“What would you like to do this evening?”
“I thought you said we had plans.”
“Oh, I know what I’d like to do, Anastasia. I’m asking you what you want to do.” I beam at him.
“I see,” he says with a wickedly salacious grin. “So . . . begging it is, then. Do you want to beg at my place or yours?” He tilts his head to one side and smiles his oh-so-sexy smile at me.
“I think you’re being very presumptuous, Mr. Grey. But by way of a change, we could go to my apartment.” I bite my lip deliberately, and his expression darkens.
“Taylor, Miss Steele’s, please.”
“Sir,” Taylor acknowledges and he heads off into the traffic.
“So how has your day been?” he asks.
“Good. Yours?”
“Good, thank you.”
His ridiculously broad grin reflects mine, and he kisses my hand again.
“You look lovely,” he says.
“As do you.”
“Your boss, Jack Hyde, is he good at his job?”
Whoa! That’s a sudden change in direction? I frown. “Why? This isn’t about your pissing contest?”
Christian smirks. “That man wants into your panties, Anastasia,” he says dryly.
I go crimson as my mouth drops open, and I glance nervously at Taylor. My subconscious inhales sharply, shocked.
“Well, he can want all he likes . . . why are we even having this conversation? You know I have no interest in him whatsoever. He’s just my boss.”
“That’s the point. He wants what’s mine. I need to know if he’s good at his job.” I shrug. “I think so.” Where is he going with this?
“Well, he’d better leave you alone, or he’ll find himself on his ass on the sidewalk.”
“Oh, Christian, what are you talking about? He hasn’t done anything wrong.” . . .
He just stands too close.
“He makes one move, you tell me. It’s called gross moral turpitude—or sexual harass-ment.”
