Didn't I Warn You Read online

  I responded to Brad’s futile negotiations without narrowing my vision.

  Who is she?

  Brad and Steve caved at half a cup of coffee then took their leave through the rear entrance of the café. Karim and I had agreed we’d wait ten minutes before leaving for the next meeting in the building across from us. I’d have waited anyway.

  Waited just to find out what she thought she was doing.

  I’d have waited to see if her voice was as husky as I imagined it’d be. Or if it’d be light and musical.

  Husky, I knew it’d be husky.

  If it wasn’t for today’s business, I’d be right over there, offering what she clearly wanted. Maybe. If I wanted to break the rules.

  “It’s been too long since you enjoyed company, Haithem.”

  I drained the remainder of my tea and eyed my assistant over the lip of the cup. “We’ve been busy.”

  “Yes, and now you’re getting distracted. Invite the girl to a hotel for an hour and clear your head.”

  I set down the cup with a clank. Too tempting, and a bad idea. She wasn’t my type. Not my type at all. Plus I didn’t like the way her attention fixed on me. “I’d need more than an hour.”

  “Then take it. There’s a long trip ahead of us, there may not be a next time.”

  We didn’t need to leave until morning.

  I could take her now.

  Just stride over there and tell her what I wanted, give her an offer she’d never refuse. My thigh brushed the table, and I glanced down. I’d stood without meaning to. A scowl twisted my lips. No, not what I needed. There was too much to be done.

  Yet, it wasn’t only the twenty-five minutes of silent flirtation making me want to finish the job. I’d wanted her from the moment our gazes locked. There was something there—in those pale eyes. Secrets I wanted to uncover.

  All reasons why I had to leave her alone.

  TWO

  MY ENTIRE MIDSECTION reached critical-point spasm. I’d heard his voice at least three times. Not close enough for words to actually be distinguishable but enough that the sound of him vibrated along my nerves. My fingertips shook while I pretended to use the laptop. I should’ve eaten. Would it have hurt to have one biscuit with those three coffees? I breathed in. The control-top panty hose beneath my skirt clutched my hips like the devil’s tourniquet. My fingers splayed on my belly. That’s right, no food babies allowed before interviews with trendy magazines.

  But I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, then there was this guy messing with my signals... Hunger and horniness all mixed together, encroaching on brain space, bringing about the legitimate possibility that I might go over there, eat that guy, then go hump the pastry counter.

  Get. It. Together.

  I shook my head and shoulders. Okay, commencing concentration. A voice, octaves lower than every other sound, filtered toward me. I brushed the hair back from my ear and tilted my head. Tried to get that sound as much in me as I could.

  A scrape of chairs almost knocked my heart out of my chest.

  Probably due to all the attempted eavesdropping. Not gonna lie—it wasn’t an accident. Whatever he was talking about, I was 500 percent sure was way more interesting than anything I’d heard today. Possibly ever. I glanced at my phone, then picked it up and unlocked the screen. Freaking hell, any moment he’d leave and I wouldn’t even have a photo of him to prove his existence to my best friend, Emma. Men like him didn’t just wander into little Melbourne coffee shops—at least, not when we were around to enjoy looking at them.

  Slow, swaggering footsteps padded behind me.

  The phone clattered from my hand onto the table and my folder jumped like a cricket onto the floor. I reached for the folder.

  My hand landed on another hand. A bigger, browner one, smooth and warm under my fingertips.

  My breath froze. He crouched beside the table yet managed to still tower. He leaned on his heels and stretched an arm toward me. The folder lay in his grasp. I couldn’t take it—no matter that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone hands you something. A smile twitched his cheek.

  He looked up at me entirely too long before speaking. “You should be more careful, Angelina.”

  His voice wafted over me like an exotic breeze. Deep, warm and laced with something foreign, a subtle clip of accent. Then his words sank in.

  Angelina...

  The heartbeat fluttering away against my ribs stilled. How the hell did he know my name? I recoiled against my seat.

  His eyes widened a fraction before his lips spread in a grin—a freaking sexy grin, revealing teeth that could sell the crap out of toothpaste. He tapped my folder, a long finger pointing to the name printed in bold font, directly above the contact details on the résumé in his hand.

  Of course...

  Just because I’d proved that hair color has no bearing on intelligence didn’t mean he should enjoy watching me squirm.

  Dammit, of course a guy that hot had to be a prick.

  I reached out, half smiling, then tugged the folder from between his fingers. My face lingered inches from his, close enough to see the chocolate flecks in his dark eyes.

  “Oh, I’m always careful...” I enunciated slowly. But why stop there? “Sir.”

  Those magnetic eyes intensified, and a look of something I didn’t quite recognize flashed in their depths.

  “Is that so, Angelina?” My name curled like smoke off his tongue, and I swear the sound of it reached out and licked me.

  It took three long heartbeats for realization to click into place. The implication of what I’d said settled slowly between us. Heat prickled my neck and up to my face.

  Careful girls don’t accidentally stare at men. Careful girls don’t accidentally let strange men see them wipe their breasts. Careful girls don’t accidentally tip their folders at the feet of said strange men.

  My stomach flipped over.

  Oh no.

  I clutched the presentation folder and turned away. He rose beside me. For a few pregnant moments, I sensed his stare boring into me. Whatever he waited for, I didn’t give to him.

  “Very well... Good luck at your interview.”

  His shoes clicked on the tiles. Some part of me wanted to look up, even call him back.

  I breathed out and set the folder down and shut the laptop. Maybe it’s time to see the shrink again?

  I packed up my things, curled the cords, stashed everything in my handbag and went to the counter.

  “It’s all been taken care of.”

  I stared at the waitress. Poor girl, it wasn’t her day. I hoped she didn’t get fired. But then she kinda sucked at waitressing, so maybe it’d be for the best.

  “No, I sat over there.” I pointed at the booth. “Table five.”

  “Yes, that’s the table. The guy you were speaking to took care of the bill.”

  “Oh.” I blinked, then glanced between the booth to the front door. He’d paid my bill and left? “Um, thanks.”

  I slid my purse back into my bag and left the café. Why’d he do that? Maybe it was an apology for being a smart-ass?

  A delicious smart-ass...

  It wasn’t as if he could get something out of the gesture. He must’ve done it because he liked me. Yeah, I’d leave it at that. He’d totally paid the bill because he was besotted with me. I snickered to myself. A girl’s entitled to her fantasies. A horn beeped. The crossing signal flashed.

  I crossed the street to the building opposite and pushed the bewilderment from my system. Spotting the elevators at the far end of the room, I raced in my heels toward them. A rush of people exited. I stepped back. More people pushed out of the elevator than stepped inside—not surprising, given my interview was the last of the day. Two women stood in front of me. Their perfume filled t
he space, thick enough to coat my tongue.

  Geez, I’d forgotten to wear perfume. Was I supposed to? They weren’t wearing shirts and skirts, either. They wore chic city dresses—the kind that made me choke when I looked at the price tag. My fifty-dollar shirt didn’t feel quite as fancy.

  The elevator glided up. My nerves seemed to be racing up faster than the elevator was hitting floors. I squeezed the leather strap of my bag. Maybe this wasn’t the job of my dreams, it wasn’t writing plays for Broadway, but it was a writing job.

  I’d be happy with that. Any writing job would do.

  Any job that got me out of my parents’ house would be just fine.

  * * *

  TINA, CHIEF EDITOR for Poise, glanced up from my article. “Well, you can write. Very well, actually. And all this research, technically it’s a great article.” She looked at her colleague Fey. “It’s just that—”

  Fey dropped her paper. “—it’s boring.”

  “Yep, boring.” Tina nodded.

  My chest, the great brick of tension that it was, bottomed out so hard I wondered that my blood still flowed. I knew it. I didn’t let my shoulders roll, though. The interview wasn’t over yet.

  “Don’t you have parents, grandparents? Elderly people that you like perhaps?” My gaze flicked between them. “I volunteer in a hostel—these are important issues...”

  “Aww, honey.” Fey leaned her elbows on the table separating us. “These are boring issues.”

  Tina’s head bobbed again, her hair shuffling below her chin. “They really are.”

  “No one wants to buy a magazine to read about homeless old people—yuck.” Fey’s identical haircut shivered around her ears. “That’s not sexy.”

  I kept the cringe on the inside. They wanted sexy. Doomed. My specialty. Just look at today’s juice stain seduction model. You can’t teach that kind of talent.

  My teeth clicked.

  Maybe I didn’t want to work here. Tina and Fey had matching haircuts. It’s weird for colleagues to have matching hair. They might’ve wanted me to be their third, and I had way too much volume for any style above the shoulder.

  So what if I didn’t get the job. Who needed to write for a syndicated magazine anyhow?

  There were local gazettes I could try—so long as I didn’t ever need to make a living. My fingers curled in my lap. “I could come up with something fresh?”

  Fey’s nose scrunched, but Tina leaned in. “What else do you have?”

  “Something very...” I cleared my throat. “Sexy.”

  “Oh?” Tina dropped her chin onto her palm. “Tell us about that one.”

  “Well, it’s more of a concept.” I tried not to look at the snark and skepticism in Fey’s eyes. “There was this man in the coffee shop across the street from here.”

  “What kind of man?”

  I turned to Fey, and for the first time since I’d walked in her eyelids had opened all the way. She looked better without the squint.

  I smiled, and my heart rose back to its rightful place. There was one sure way I’d get to work for Poise magazine. I let my elbow join theirs on the table and planted my chin on my hand. “It’s hard to say, really...he was pretty mysterious. Almost inexplicable...”

  * * *

  WHAT IN GOD’S name did I just agree to?

  I stood in the elevator, blinking at the reflection in the mirrored wall. At the shirt now knotted at a belly button that had never before seen the light of the sun. The collar this time left purposefully gaping.

  Thanks, Fey, for “fixing” me.

  My hands flopped at my sides. This is what I needed to save Poise from—how to be told you’re not good enough subject matter.

  The elevator jolted then rose. Crap. I spun and hit the ground button, but too late.

  I went up. Never mind, we’d go down eventually.

  What I had to figure out was how to find my chin-dimple-heartthrob, and do one ridiculous exposé on his general mysterious gorgeousness. I just hoped he was actually as impressive as I recalled. My entire brain shrank around the memory of him that lit up the inside of my mind.

  Blood pooled in all my sexy places.

  Nope, we were good. Not exaggerated. But let’s face it, if I saw him right now, it wasn’t interviewing him I’d be interested in...

  The lift stopped.

  The doors slid open.

  As if my wicked thoughts had tempted the universe, they revealed the man himself.

  He stood in full, glorious person, suit jacket slung casually over one shoulder. His eyes flickered briefly before his face spread in a devastating smile.

  His gaze drifted to my open button, and his smile turned voracious. In just a shirt, he was even more rugged than earlier. And damn, his shoulders were as muscular as I’d envisioned. Not muscleman muscles, just plain old I-am-a-strong-guy-with-lots-of-testosterone muscles.

  I sagged against the wall. The magnetic pull of him went straight to my ovaries. If he touched me now, I’d probably have twins—or triplets.

  He observed my changing expression and stepped through the doors to stand beside me. My skin tightened. Our arms brushed.

  Make that quads.

  He reached across me, all too close, and pushed the lower car park button. The side of his arm brushed my chest when he drew back. My mouth opened silently. The heat of his body next to me fried my brain. I almost forgot that I actually needed him. Not simply to fill my womb with his love goblins but as my highway to gainful employment. I turned and gave him a smile, complete with my own cheek dimples.

  Our children will have all the aesthetic indentations.

  “So, your interview went well, Angelina.”

  There he went, using my name again. Not fair, especially since his name would be a great place to begin my investigations. Yet he didn’t look like the kind of man who knew the meaning of the word fair.

  “Exceptionally well...sir,” I responded then lowered my voice. “It hardly seems right, though...”

  “What’s not right?”

  We were face-to-face. Or should I say, face to chest. I tipped my head back to look at him. The intensity of his gaze quickened my pulse, but I wouldn’t be intimidated. Not this time, anyway. “Well, that you know my name but I don’t know yours?” There were only three floors left before we reached the ground. “I think you just like hearing me call you sir...”

  His eyes darkened, and a carnal flash crossed his face. I backed into the cool wall.

  He watched me for the length of a breath before reaching across me again. What is he doing? His finger pressed the red button. The elevator shuddered, coming to a screeching standstill. I stumbled, foot twisting in my shoe. He grasped my arm before I could fall, and hauled me against him.

  Holy crap, what have I done?

  THREE

  AS MUCH AS I attempted to conceal my nervousness, air still rushed from my lips.

  “My name is Haithem,” he whispered. His beautiful accent thickened. “But of course you can call me sir.” The look he gave me dripped with sin. I was in serious, serious trouble.

  I swallowed hard. His hand rested on my arm. Its warmth seeped into my skin. The atmosphere charged, but I wasn’t sure if it was with danger or something sweeter. His gaze devoured my eyes, my mouth, my lips, as if he memorized the angles of my face. I said nothing. I held his gaze, not able to—or wanting to—pull away. I’d never been looked at that way before.

  Kiss me...

  His lips met mine, spreading my mouth open. My heartbeat paused. His kiss consumed me. My pulse rushed back into a shuddering rhythm, thunking its way through my chest to send trembling blood through my body. He took possession. Of my mouth, my pulse, of the bend in my spine with the tilt of our heads. He opened his mouth over mine and pushed his t
ongue between my lips. My veins exploded with rushing blood. I pressed myself against him and kissed him back.

  I melted—lost my bones. His jacket dropped to the floor, and he ran his hands down my shoulders. He surrounded me, pulling me closer to him, shutting out the world. A hungry touch glided over my backside, running down my leg and back up my thigh, then delving underneath my skirt. Shivers ran deep inside my core. His other hand slid into my hair, deepening our kiss, if such a kiss could get deeper. He filled me, his tongue, the masculine taste of him, the intoxicating tang of his cologne. He enveloped me. I could burst. He gripped my ass. Brutal hardness dug into my belly.

  Icy realization hit. What am I doing? I pulled back, but the grip in my hair locked me in place. My limbs stiffened.

  His hold on my hair loosened, and he leaned back, peering down at me through lowered lashes and warm, breathtaking eyes. His lips glistened softer and pinker. He rubbed his thumb lightly on my cheek.

  Why was I panicking again?

  “This is Building Management. Is everything all right in there? Emergency stop seems to have been activated.” The voice echoed through the elevator from the speaker underneath the stop button.

  Haithem’s touch left my face, but the hold on my behind remained. A devilish smile played on his mouth. “My apologies. I seem to have accidentally knocked the button.”

  There was a pause. “Kindly depress the button, please, sir.”

  Haithem sighed, and he released my backside to reach for the button. The elevator sprang to life, dropping suddenly.

  Within moments the doors opened, and without another thought I slipped under his arm and out of the lift. I rushed through the empty lobby, my heart screaming a warning siren in my ears, to where a security guard waited at the doors. I glanced back. Haithem started after me but stopped when the security guard moved my way.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, gaze darting from me to Haithem.

  “Fine, I’m just leaving,” I said.

  He opened the door and I rushed into the crisp outside air and ran to the corner, then froze