Aidan shot her a look that said he had other ideas. “Nope. Not buying it, Ms. Public Relations. This is a no-spin zone, so stop being modest and tell me about how you’re putting that fancy Oxford education to use nowadays.”
The realization that he remembered her major and her alma mater combined with the interest on his handsome face edged the lust in her belly with a sweetness she hadn’t expected. Maybe that was why she still didn’t mention Whitfield Industries by name, just left it hanging like a guillotine blade, hoping it wouldn’t sever this thread of...something that was pulsing between them.
“Mostly I write media releases and deal with questions from the press. And every now and then a scandal breaks out and things get interesting.” The words fell out of her mouth without her meaning them to, and the sharp pain of the current situation knifed through her gut. That Max had worn a wire, turned their father in for blackmailing Emma Mathison, the head of R and D for SecurePay. That Charles was currently wearing an ankle bracelet, under house arrest after ponying up the five-million-dollars bail. That she’d been completely in the dark about her own father until it had all gone down...
“How about you? What have you been doing with yourself for the last decade?”
He grinned, and her heart stuttered at the flash of straight, white teeth. “Before or after I got gored running with the bulls in Spain?”
She couldn’t help but smile back. She’d always loved Aidan’s stories. He was the reason she’d begged her mother to let her study abroad. Actually, getting as far away from Sylvia Whitfield’s nitpicking as possible was the reason she’d done that, but Aidan’s stories had given her the courage to persevere, to board the plane when her mother had unexpectedly relented and let her go. “Liar.”
Her mouth went dry as he reached down and lifted the hem of his T-shirt up his side, revealing that jagged scar across his rib cage. The one her fingers had traced during their time in the storage closet. The one her fingers wanted to touch now. Oh God. It must have hurt and everything, but damn. Like the man needed to be any sexier.
The two ladies chattering at a nearby table stopped to take in the deliciously masculine sight of Aidan showing off his wound.
Oblivious, he dropped the white cotton. “Twenty stitches.”
“I have a vanilla latte for Karly and a coffee for Hot Guy,” called the barista, and Aidan quirked a conspiratorial eyebrow, startling a smile from her. It might not be the heat that had sparked between him and Lola, but it was nice to see him as herself, too.
They grabbed their coffees from the counter. The grande cup looked small in his hand.
“Got time to sit with me for a bit?”
She wanted to. Wanted to indulge the desire simmering in her belly. But she had a meeting that she couldn’t blow off, and the prudent part of her—the part that knew the longer she tempted fate, the more likely it was that Aidan might connect her with her alter ego—warned her to get out immediately, before her secret came back to bite her.
With an apologetic smile at the handsomest man to ever flash her at a Starbucks, Kaylee put herself out of her misery. “I’m sorry, Aidan. I really need to get to work, but it was great seeing you.”
She reached into her purse to grab her keys. Despite her very smart decision to leave, her whole body shivered when he reached out and touched her hand to stop her. She swallowed against the resurgence of lust as she looked at him. “Then see me again.”
“What?”
“Lounge 360. Nine o’clock. I’ll buy you a drink.”
She really shouldn’t. Max would hate that. Her mother would hate that.
“I’ll be there.”
Shit.
He shouldn’t have talked to her. Liam’s tech was good enough to install without making contact. That had been the goddamn plan.
She’d been completely oblivious to him when he’d taken his place in line behind her, but he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut.
In his head, she was this gangly, shy teenage girl with braces who stared at him like he’d hung the moon when she thought he wasn’t watching. At four years his junior, she’d been mostly off his radar when Max would invite him over.
When she was on his radar, it was just because she’d always seemed so...lonely. He’d felt sorry for her. Sylvia Whitfield had been on her constantly and about everything—Kaylee, stand up straight; Kaylee, your hair is a mess; Kaylee, stop being so noisy.
And Max had been weird about his little sister, keeping a very conscious distance, though he’d never explained his reasons.
But she wasn’t an awkward girl anymore. And some perverse part of Aidan had been too curious to content himself with the brief glimpse of her profile he’d gotten in the parking lot while he’d waited to see if she’d show up like his intel guy had predicted.
He’d wanted to see the woman she’d become, and so he’d broken his own damn rule and talked to her.
Stunning. That had been his first thought when she’d turned to face him. Then her hazel eyes had flared with surprise and recognition as they scanned his face, and her skin had flushed in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Her full lips, slicked shiny with gloss, had popped open in an unconsciously provocative O that had hooked him in the gut right before she stepped back in surprise. He hadn’t expected the jolt of familiarity, hell, of attraction, that had arced up his arm as he’d steadied her.
He spared a brief moment to wonder if she’d felt it, too, or if it was just the surprise of seeing him again after so many years that had sent her phone tumbling to the ground, smashing both the screen and his plan to install the spyware and get the hell out.
That’s what he got for thinking with his dick, which obviously didn’t care that she was part of the enemy camp. Though to be fair, neither did his brain, judging by his offer to take her out for drinks tonight. Fucking drinks with Kaylee Whitfield.
Now all he could do was hope that she’d replace her phone before they met up again, or this whole day would be a complete waste.
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