Page 85 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I

“You’re an MIT graduate, aren’t you?”

I avoided one lie, but I can’t evade the next. I nod.

“Your programming ability is quite profound.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“You’re not married, are you?”

“No,” I say, realizing he slipped in that question out of nowhere. I lift my glass of club soda with cranberry juice and hold it next to my mouth. “You?” I shake my head. “I mean, everybody knows you’re not married. But do you have a girlfriend?”

I take a drink, and he’s looking at my mouth.I think Hercules Valentine wants to kiss Lark Davenport.

“I don’t,” he whispers. Hercules clears his throat and readjusts in his seat. “So, you think our compression technology is a cut above the rest?”

He might as well have asked, “What would you do if I asked you to take off your blouse?” That’s how sexy he sounds.

“Yes,” I strain to say.

“Can I get you anything else, Mr. Valentine?” the bartender asks. Only now do I grasp that Hercules and I are trapped by each other’s eyes.

“I’m fine,” he says without breaking eye contact with me.

I should say something, but my body is overreacting to him. My nipples sizzle, my panties are wet, and it takes everything I have not to jump his bones.

His smirks turns sexier, which I didn’t think was possible. “Are you a genius, Lake?”

I shake my head because I’m too hot and bothered to speak.Why does he have to be so damn gorgeous?

Hercules chuckles. “I think you are.”

“I’m not. There’s a lot I don’t know. But coding, I know. And everything else I learned from my…” I was about to saygrandfather.

“From your?”

“Professor.”

“Ah, I see.” He takes another drink.

“What about you? Is being a CEO your calling?” I think so. I always felt Hercules was a natural leader.

He chuckles uncomfortably as he shifts in his seat. “Sometimes I like it, but mostly, I don’t.”

My smile slowly dissolves. “Oh.” I didn’t expect him to be so emotionally honest. “I know what you mean.”

He tilts his head curiously. “How so?”

“Sometimes, I feel as if I'm made to do what I'm doing, and sometimes, I don't. Like last night with Lake. I had so much fun. I felt so free and unrestrained. I wasn’t making anyone happy but myself. I think that was her intention, actually.” I shrug, picturing Lake and me laughing, dancing, and being free. “I don't know—I can use more of that.”

He’s staring deeply into my eyes without saying a word. I chuckle nervously, but not even that draws him out of his prolonged stare.

“So.” I look down, breaking eye contact on purpose.

“So, Lark—” He sets his glass on the bar.

I look up. “Yes?”

His slow smile builds. “Are you telling me you want to be an artist?”