“So, any other surprises?” he asks, giving me a suspicious, one-eye-narrowed stare.
I choke on my wine.
“Oh no, let me have it.”
“I just have to get you to do something for me…”
“What?” The sound of silverware scraping the plates fills the room as I keep the task to myself because isn’t this weird? Wrong?
“Never mind.” I drink more.
I eat to settle my stomach.
And my annoyance.
I yawn after we finish eating, only to have him bring out dessert from the fridge. It’s a gorgeous tiramisu that I know he didn’t make.
“The only thing not burned,” I comment.
Jack makes a face. “Very funny.”
He’s still shirtless, and it’s impossible not to stare.
I reach for my fork, but he presses his hand over mine and shakes his head, “You aren’t the only one with a task.”
“Wh-what?”
“Come here.” He crooks his finger. “I’m going to feed you now.”
I hand him my fork.
He sighs and hangs his head again. “Nah, with my finger.”
Well damn.
I wasn’t ready.
Max woke up and chose violence, didn’t he?
Are there hidden cameras?
What do I even do right now?
I lean forward. “This can’t be legal.”
“It’s probably in our NDAs.” Jack licks his lips, then stares at mine as he dips his finger into the tiramisu and holds it out to my mouth.
Well, here we go!
My first mistake was going with it.
My second comes when I lean forward and hear a small rip come from my ass.
“What was that?” he asks with a smirk.
I’m not even kidding when I almost say I farted just to save myself from admitting the dress is too small and my ass is too big.
I quickly lick his finger and say, “Mmmmmm, so goooooood! Give me more!”
The distraction works as he quickly dips his finger into the tiramisu. I eat more and wonder how I’m going to walk backward toward that door.
The cake is almost done.
And I have zero time.
I keep eating.
Thinking.
Third mistake is being distracted as Jack leans forward with a smile. I think he’s going to actually kiss me when he turns my head to the side and looks over my shoulder. “Knew you’d have a nice ass.”
I sucker punch him in the stomach.
It was instinct!
He starts coughing and falls to the floor, yelling, “Whyyyyyyy?” like I just committed murder.
Whatever.
I kick him lightly. “You’re fine; stop being dramatic!”
“It was a compliment!” He slowly gets to his feet. “Who taught you to hit?”
“My grandma.”
He laughs, then stops. “Oh shit, seriously? Was she like a Kung Fu master or something?”
“She got bored easy and started taking karate, then Kung Fu, Jiu-Jitsu, Krav Maga—she got around.”
“Yeah, she did. I think I’d like to meet her.” He smiles and stands to his feet.
And my heart sinks.
“She’s…” I can’t say it; saying it makes me feel like I’m manifesting it even more, and I’m still not over losing my best friend. “Anyway, thanks for the cake and date; I’ll just head back to my side of the building.”
“Hey.” Jack reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you? We’re strangers, remember? Sworn enemies and all that.”
“Yeah.” He leans in. His nose is cold as it presses against my neck. “Sworn enemies… that’s what this feeling is.”
“It’s the perfume.”
“And the ass,” he adds.
I smack him again, then hold the material together in the back as he opens the door, and I shuffle across the hall and into my apartment.
It takes me a while to sleep. And when it does finally come—I think of my grandma, and then I imagine her meeting Jack.
And I smile.
Chapter Four
Jack
I’m exhausted.
Sleep is impossible.
All I keep seeing is her ass, then thinking of a grandma kicking my ass, then about how good Ivy smells… and yeah, it was a night.
I wake up to a package at my door and a text. I grab the package after reading the text that instructs me to put on the clothes and meet downstairs at noon.
Ivy opens her door the minute I start to close mine. Her box is identical. Huh.
“Did you have a good—”
She shuts the door before I can finish.
Whatever.
We aren’t together for real; this is all fake, fake, fake dating. Fun, so fun.
I need to just focus on the potential bonus and job opportunities before I do something stupid like kiss her—which I almost did last night until her dress ripped, then almost did again when she left.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I quickly get dressed in this weird black tracksuit that looks like I’m ready to go for a run but with an old guy who works for the mafia, wears a gold chain, and has a rasp in his voice.
I leave the apartment at the same time Ivy does. She’s wearing a matching tracksuit, which makes things get weirder.
Jude’s waiting by the elevator when we get on, his partner nowhere to be seen; he also isn’t wearing the tracksuit. “Stupid competition.”