Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [49]
Unless he thought back to Angie. But again, that was a lifetime ago. In another world. He was a far different person now than he’d been then.
“What’s wrong?” Brenna asked.
He jerked to attention. “What? Nothing. Why?”
“You just have a weird look on your face.”
Hell. People seldom accused him of wearing weird looks.
He considered just being honest—as honest and open and forthright as she would be if the situation were reversed—saying: I just like you, that’s all. I like you and I don’t quite remember the last time I really, honestly liked someone I was fucking. But instead he just smirked and said, “Thanks.” And, on impulse, threw a potato chip at her.
At which she laughed, then threw a small handful of them back.
Which, for some reason, made him like her even more. He pointed a scolding finger at her and said, “Knock it off,” unable to hide a slight smile. “You’re supposed to be a hip, cool A&R rep. We don’t have food fights.”
Her expression went from amused to confused. “Didn’t you throw the first chip? About ten seconds ago? I thought maybe this was part of my training.”
He tilted his head, crossed his arms, and at least tried to get honest. “Let’s just say…there are moments you make me forget we’re working here.”
Across the table, she lowered her chin. “It so happens you’re more skilled at combining work and play than anyone I’ve ever met.”
He shrugged. “It’s a gift.” And wondered what the fuck he was doing saying shit like that, about her making him forget things. Crazy talk. And it was time to change the subject. “Are you gonna eat those chips or throw them? We should take off—we’ve got a big night ahead of us.”
Three
After heading back to the Venetian, Brenna and Damon went their separate ways, to their separate rooms, to get ready for the evening. She’d had a wonderful afternoon with him, but given that it was around a hundred degrees outside, she definitely needed a shower before they set out for a night of scouting new talent.
Of course, as she ran the soap over her body, letting the warm spray rush down, she remembered getting so wet and sudsy with him last night. She remembered the best, most powerful sex of her life.
And she thought of what a fun time she’d had with him today and how, somewhere along the way, a most amazing thing had happened: new Brenna had faded. Into some combination of new Brenna and old Brenna that, together, equaled what she could only now think of as real Brenna. Because nothing she said or did with him was pretend anymore. It was no longer calculated or planned or practiced—somehow she’d just started being herself with him, a self that was sometimes silly, sometimes sultry, and everything in between.
She couldn’t help thinking that Damon had uncovered this new, real her. And that without the past few days she never would have found it, never would have felt so…fully realized and whole as she suddenly did now.
Stop thinking that way, she reprimanded herself as she slipped on a beaded tank top and miniskirt. Because thinking that way made her feel all warm and connected to him. Not only physically, either. Emotionally, too. And there was no place for emotion here—was there?
Shit. Stop this.
Standing before the vanity to apply makeup, she decided to make some mental rules for the rest of this week:
1. Learn your new job.
2. Concentrate on the physical aspects of the relationship.
3. Ban any and all emotions that equate to romance or attachment.
4. Keep right on pushing aside any thoughts of how you’re deceiving him.
5. And fuck his brains out every chance you get.
She decided to especially concentrate on number five, and given that the night was coming on, the lights of Sin City beginning to glow in the dusk outside her wall of windows, she figured she wouldn’t have to wait very long.
Four
They’d decided to return to Mon Ami Gabi for dinner, and all through the meal, Brenna tried not to let him affect her. She tried to ignore the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled at her; she tried not to feel the way he’d grown slightly more open and playful