If ever there was an office that personified its owner, it’s Qasim’s, she thought.
The place was a testament to pretty much everything he held dear. One far, expansive corner was a hive of activity with wide-screen monitors broadcasting both financial and sports news from their perches atop a pair of pristine maple desks. Towering bookcases lined the room and were filled with pictures, plaques, awards and books spanning a range of genres. Above the cases nearest the desks was a stock ticker.
Vectra set her tote on one of the square black leather chairs that surrounded an impressive gaming area. She wondered if nice or nasty was the way to begin their conversation. She didn’t have long to debate.
“Coming to invite me to another party, Vec?”
The words carried over Qasim’s broad shoulder as he headed into his work area. He removed his suit coat, slung it over the back of the sofa he passed and smiled in her direction when he turned.
Okay, then...she decided, accepting that the conversation would be a tad strained. “Actually, I came to ask why I’ve been selected as the lucky one to get the brunt of the petty side of your personality?”
He smiled. While the gesture held a great deal of humor, the air of agitation remained.
“Qasim?” Vectra’s attempt to remain steely gave way, and her curiosity got the better of her. “Why are you angry with me?” She didn’t care for the pleading tone that clung to her words, but she wanted answers.
Qasim appeared taken aback, but recovered soon enough. “I’m not angry with you.” He made a pretense of reviewing the folders lying open on his desk.
“Well, you’re something. What’d I do?” Curiosity had given way to a smidge of self-consciousness while she stood before him. Something changed. His smile was gone, and the look that replaced it was observant in a way that made Vectra flush with heat.
Another of the agitated rumbles surged in Qasim’s chest, and he pushed back the wide black leather chair behind his desk.
Vectra could hear nothing over her heart beating wildly as anticipation had its way with her.
Qasim didn’t take a seat in the chair; instead, he headed in Vectra’s direction and then shifted toward the maple wet bar, which displayed a wide array of liquor bottles in various shapes and sizes.
Quietly, Qasim went about preparing Vectra’s vodka tonic, which he set firmly upon the bar top. From the full-size black fridge behind him, he retrieved his beer of choice and popped the top.
He tipped the bottle to his mouth. “I’m not angry with you.”
Vectra stood in place, nervously rubbing her fingers together while she observed Qasim with a wary gaze. He motioned with his bottle for her to take the vodka. Vectra didn’t care how eagerly she accepted. The drink went a long way in calming her ridiculously frazzled nerves.
The lush line of Qasim’s mouth grew even lusher as a smile emerged. She rolled her eyes. “You said that already, so excuse me for not believing you.” She gave him her back, keeping the drink clutched securely between her hands.
Qasim allowed his emotions greater purchase while Vectra’s back faced him. He didn’t realize the blackness of his stare softened as it always did when just the mere thought of her stirred.
He watched her sip from the glass but noticed that she didn’t empty it. She put more distance between them, which gave him time to absorb the missed sight of her.
The more time they spent together, the more she stunted his ability to properly think or even speak. He’d masked it for as long as he could. When he could no longer do that, he latched on to his only option.
Because he didn’t want to be her friend. He wanted much more.
She finished her drink and turned on him. “You shut me out. I thought we were friends and then you—you stopped calling, stopped taking my calls. Why? What’d I do?”
Qasim took another swig of his beer and gave a half shrug. “Guess you won’t accept the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ defense?”
“No.” She produced a cool smile and set her glass on the bar with more force than needed. “And I’ve got a good conversation starter since clearly you can’t get the discussion going. Robb’s party? It’s tonight. When we spoke a while ago, I got the impression that you didn’t have a date, either, so I thought we could go together. When you shot me down, I decided to ask someone else. He turned me down, too, but thankfully he told me why he had to say no before I ran off to embarrass myself by asking someone else.”
“Lew?” At her confirming nod, Qasim rolled his eyes.
Lewis Olin was a mutual friend who struggled with the concept of keeping secrets. While people tended to admire the man’s honesty, they often found the trait to be a nuisance.
“Why don’t you want anyone else to take me to the party?” Her voice was quiet.
“I didn’t tell him that.” Qasim finished his beer and turned to the bar fridge for another just to have a reason to shield the truth from his eyes.
“No, Qasim, you told Lew you’d break his hand before he could press the send button when he mentioned calling me to ask me to Robb’s party. Why would you say that?”
“I didn’t mean it.” Silently, though, Qasim feared that the threat had been all too real at the time. He lost his taste for the second beer, slamming the fridge door shut to round on her. “You’re an idiot if you don’t know why I wouldn’t want anyone else to take you out.”
“I’m no idiot, Sim.” At least not about that. “I just want to hear you say it.”
“I can’t be your friend.” Qasim pushed off the bar, massaging the bridge of his nose.
Vectra blinked twice in rapid succession. The words were like a slap, yet they hadn’t rendered her speechless. “You can’t be my friend and you don’t want anyone else to be my friend, either?”
Qasim was returning to his desk when her accusation reached his ears. Her voice carried a lost chord, forcing him to turn and face her. He couldn’t speak for simply wanting to look and to fantasize.
The woman had too many male friends who were just friends. While that fact pleased him, it had unfortunately given her the false perception that any man she categorized as such would remain true to the label and want nothing more.
He’d known he was unworthy of the friendship title from the day he met her.
Hell, who could blame me? he thought, fully allowing himself to appreciate her.
He knew she had an unnatural disdain for exercise. The lack of activity seemed to have had no adverse effects on her body, though. Her svelte figure was encased beneath a dress that emphasized shapely legs that he’d dreamed of having wrapped around his back. Her breasts were ones he very much wanted bared to his gaze.
Her dark hair was cropped into a pixie cut. The chic style accentuated the oval beauty of her rich, caramel-toned face. Further illuminating her features was a hauntingly lovely pair of walnut-brown eyes.
“Qasim?” Vectra snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.
She had moved closer, stopping inches before where he’d taken a seat on the edge of his desk. His reflexes were swift, and he captured her wrist, which caused her to bite her lip in an attempt to hide a gasp.
“You have a habit of underestimating your so-called friends,” he said.
“Obviously.” She tried to tug her wrist free of his hold.