Page 17

I tilted my chin upward, reaching into my purse. “I’m not here for idle conversation; I’m just here to return this.”
I placed the envelope on the bar instead of handing it to him. I didn’t want to risk our fingers brushing like they had on the boat. Contact with Elliot Shaw was far too tempting. This had to be the last time I’d ever see the jovial fisherman who awakened something in me best left to die.
Elliot didn’t immediately look at what I’d placed on the bar. Instead, he held my gaze longer than was polite, his blue orbs more probing than was logical given we didn’t know each other. The stare was far too intimate. It unnerved me. But fuck if I was going to look away. I’d never lost a staring competition with a man, and I wasn’t about to start then.
I was seconds away from inspecting my shoes when Elliot’s eyes went to the envelope.
His brows furrowed, and I watched his shoulders tighten, his posture no longer casual. He even shifted his feet, as if a sudden weight had settled atop him. “Can take an educated guess as to what this is and am sure the check is good, not gonna bounce.”
There was a slight hardness to his words, that macho pride rearing its ugly head. It put me on more of an even keel; masculine pride I could deal with. “I’m sure it won’t,” I told him in a patronizing tone. “But I’m under instructions to return it, along with an apology for collecting it in the first place.”
Lightness returned to Elliot’s face as he looked from the envelope to me. “You’refollowing instructions?”
Again, I didn’t like the intimacy in which he said that, as if he knew me.
“I’ve been known to do it, on occasion, full moons and such.”
I’d expected some kind of witty retort, the pattern we’d fallen into without effortdespitemy best efforts. What I didn’t expect was for his eyelids to flutter then sag into a serious, hungry expression of undisguised desire.
It hit me. Square in the ovaries. Not an unpleasant sensation. Not at all.
“I’d like to test that theory.” His voice had gone at least an octave deeper, mimicking the carnal expression on his face.
It took me a handful of seconds to get my bearings, to understand that he was alluding to… me following his orders. While naked.
Beyond the fact that he did not give off Dom energy—until right that second—and that I did not give off sub energy—until right that second—it came out of left field. Usually, men making such sexual innuendos out of nowhere made me see red. Because it was designed to shame, scare and otherwise remind a woman that a man could turn at any moment, try to take what they considered theirs.
Not this time.
I was too busy envisioning being naked while following Elliot Shaw’s orders. My pussy vibrated in response.
Elliot was watching me. More accurately, my lips, which had parted slightly, releasing uneven breaths. I considered myself a sexual person; I had three different vibrators, a whole section in my closet dedicated to lingerie and different instruments meant to enhancemypleasure. Nothing shocked me. Nothing scared me.
Except how viscerally my body was responding without a man even touching me. With just a voice, a twinkling eye, a smile.
I snapped out of it quickly, realizing how easily he’d taken control of me and hating every moment of it. Well, noteverymoment. I’d actually liked it for a second there, but I was repressing that. By the time I left that place, I’d push out of the memory entirely.
“You won’t,” I informed him sharply. “Ever.” I made a mental vow to myself never to give in to that feeling. “I’m merely here to deliver this and fulfill a promise. I fully intend to never cross paths with you again.”
Elliot remained silent, as if he was digesting my words. Then he crossed his arms, a sly grin on his face. “I’m not taking that.” He nodded to the envelope.
I scowled. “I’ll just leave it here.”
“Then I’ll just mail it back,” he returned.
My forehead would’ve creased if it wasn’t Botoxed within an inch of its life. “I could just tear it up.”
His eyes glinted with mischief. “I’ll write another.”
I planted my hands on my hips, irritated by the determination I heard in his tone, sensing that he wouldn’t give up on this easily. “What do you want?”
I was schooled enough to understand that this was a negotiation tactic—act like a toddler until you got what you want. One usually employed by men. Another venture into familiar territory. Although some of me might’ve been disappointed that Elliot was just like other men, mostly I was relieved.
“Dinner, with you,” he said without missing a beat, eyes twinkling.
My stomach lurched. Yes, he was more like most men than I’d expected. Even though I was jaded enough to expect it, I was disappointed. “You’re trying to blackmail me into having dinner with you? Dinner that you’ll try to turn into fucking.” I shook my head, appalled, but feeling appalled with a man was much more comfortable than whatever I felt for Elliot. “I meant what I said, I’m not a whore.”
“It’s technically extortion, I think.” As if in deep thought, he thrummed two fingers against his chin. “And I know you’re not a whore, Calliope.” Dropping his fingers and the act, he said this more softly. More meaningfully. Like he thought highly of me.