Oh, that sounds good. I smile as he leans closer. His lips tenderly touch mine as he holds my jaw in his hand. My eyes close as my feet lift from the floor.
Robbie . . . what the hell am I doing?
Damn this man. What is this spell that he has over me that makes me do the most random things? Like one-night stands and forgetting I’m in a committed relationship . . . and breathing.
Oh my God. I have a boyfriend. Shit. “I’m so sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.” I take a step back from him. “I have a boyfriend,” I blurt out.
His face falls in horror. “What?”
“I know.” I wince. “I . . . I . . .” I shake my head because I have no words that can get me out of this. “I have a boyfriend, and I can’t go out with you.”
“Dump him,” he fires back.
“What?” I croak.
“You heard me. Dump him.” He reaches for me.
I step back to create distance between us. “Are you crazy?”
“Maybe.”
“I can’t dump a boyfriend for one night of sex.”
“Yes. You can.”
“Jameson.” I drag my hands through my hair. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Quite possibly.” He hands me a business card. “Call me, and I’ll come and get you.”
JAMESON MILES
MILES MEDIA
212-639-8999
I stare at the card in my hand, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion. My eyes rise to meet his. I know what this is to him—it’s just another one-night stand.
One night that could ruin every plan I’ve made for myself and jeopardize my career. I’ve worked too damn hard to get to New York to throw it away now for one night with a player. It’s the weirdest thing—I never picked him as a player when we were together, but the more I get to know him, the more I realize I never knew him at all.
The worst part about it is that I know Jameson Miles is the kind of drug that I don’t need an addiction to.
The memory of our night together is bad enough.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t.” I turn to walk out of the office. My body screams for me to go back, and then I stop as a thought crosses my mind. I turn back toward him. “How did you know?”
He lifts his chin as my eyes search his.
I walk back toward him. “How did you know that Ricardo has been at my desk?”
I glance around the room and see nothing but a mirror on the wall. “Are there cameras in here?” I ask.
“Never mind.”
“Oh, but I do,” I sneer. “I think I have a right to know, if it concerns me.”
He picks up a remote from his desk and pushes a button. “Give me level forty, please,” he commands.
The mirror turns into a television screen. It rolls a few times, and then a vision of my office floor appears. I see Aaron and Molly and . . . my desk.