With Love, from Cold World(48)

“It was quite a nice compliment,” she said with a tilt of her chin. “I appreciated it.”

But he thought he understood. Her compliment to him had left her feeling vulnerable. It wasn’t just about him but about her reaction to him. He had plenty of those kinds of compliments, too. He just hadn’t known if she would welcome one.

Well, here went nothing.

“You look incredibly hot in that dress,” he said.

“Really?” Her voice pitched up in a squeak.

He’d been aiming for a matter-of-fact tone but didn’t quite know if he’d achieved it. If he were talking about a painting in a museum, or a sunset over the beach, he’d be able to talk about it without getting weird, right? He should be able to tell Lauren how the vibrant red of the dress looked against her pale skin, how sexy her delicate ankle bone was where she’d crossed her bare feet, how her mouth . . . her perfect mouth . . .

Was saying something. He mentally shook himself and tried to tune back in.

“I feel stupid for even wearing it,” she said, smoothing down the red skirt. “I know tonight was never going to be a date. Not really.”

“Lauren.” At this point it wasn’t even about playing a game, it was about helping her see the facts that should’ve been in neon lights right in front of her face. “You’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful. Yesterday I would’ve said your best bet to get Daniel’s head out of his ass long enough to notice it would’ve been to glue his phone to your forehead. But tonight . . .” He let his gaze drop to the small swell of her breasts under the red fabric, the slight gap that opened up between the neckline and her skin when she took a shallow breath. When he looked up again, her eyes were two bright, black sparks.

“Tonight I would say that your best bet is definitely that dress.”





Chapter


Thirteen

You’re always beautiful. Asa had definitely outdone himself with the compliments, and it hadn’t even been his turn to give any. But it was the throwaway tone to his voice when he’d said that particular one that made her actually believe it.

And there was that flare in his eyes as he’d looked her over. It was hard not to believe that, too.

She was attracted to Asa Williamson. She didn’t know exactly when it had happened—probably sometime around when she was sniffing him in the break room—but there it was. And for the first time, she thought maybe there was a chance that he reciprocated the feeling.

Then again, she’d misjudged this kind of thing before.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” she asked.

Immediately, she wished there were a randomly generated number that would allow her to shove the words back down her throat. Especially when his eyes searched her face, a line creasing his forehead. He had no idea what she was talking about. He probably didn’t even remember. He’d blocked it from his memory . . .

“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he said.

She swallowed. Now that she’d gone this far out on this limb, she supposed she might as well inch out a little more. “There was mistletoe,” she said. “It’s like . . . a rule.”

“You never struck me as a stickler for Christmas tradition.”

He was right, of course. The year before, she’d railed against Secret Santa, of all things. She couldn’t be surprised when he then assumed she’d want nothing to do with something as silly and inappropriate as kissing under the mistletoe. She was sorry she’d brought it up.

“I’m a stickler for most things,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “In case you hadn’t noticed. Like I just realized I broke the rules of our game by asking that question, so please. Disregard it.”

“What if I want to regard it?”

Lauren’s gaze met his before skittering away. She had no idea what he meant by that, was scared to even consider the possibilities. Time to climb down from this tree.

“It’s seriously late,” she said. “And we both have work tomorrow . . . which is a little ironic, since we’re currently at work.”

He rubbed his hands on his jean-clad thighs. They were sitting close enough that the motion ruffled the hem of her skirt a little, caused it to flip up and reveal the barest extra millimeter of skin. It was such a micro movement, and yet Lauren noticed it. Somehow, she knew Asa had, too.

“You got an unauthorized question,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s only fair if I get one.”

She lifted her chin. “Fine. In the interest of fairness.”

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

Don’t look at his mouth. Don’t look at his mouth. She was trying to keep her cool during this conversation, and it wouldn’t work if she saw his lips forming those words. She knew it was useless to deny it outright—why would she have even brought it up in the first place? At the same time, this conversation felt like a minefield, and she was scared to take the next step.

“I thought it would be nice,” she said finally, smoothing the crinkled hem of her skirt back down. “It’s kind of a nice tradition.”

“No,” he said, tilting his head, like he was trying to get her attention, or searching her face for an answer to some question. It was impossible not to look up, not to stare at his mouth. There was a small scar on his lower lip, a perfect circle that must’ve been from a piercing at some point. She watched the corner of his mouth, waiting for it to quirk up, for a sign that he was laughing at her. But for once, he looked completely serious.