“I don’t know, perhaps the person you’re talking to?” he replies.
I drag my eyes over to him.
“That’s better.” His eyes hold mine and then he gives me a slow, sexy smile.
I feel it in the pit of my stomach as the butterflies flutter.
What the hell is going on here? I swear to God he’s different, but I can’t put my finger on why.
If I didn’t know better, I would even say he’s more than friendly, perhaps a tad flirty. It’s like I’ve missed part of the conversation, but I’m really not sure what it is.
“Why would you like me to look at you, Elliot?” I ask as I focus on looking at his face.
It’s been a long time between drinks for me, and by drinks, I mean sex. I hate to admit it, but after seeing Elliot Miles in his black dinner suit last week, he’s run naked through my mind more than once.
Unable to help it, my gaze drops. Just as I suspected, a thick, broad chest with a scattering of dark hair, chiseled shoulders, and a fifty-pack of stomach muscles. His skin is a beautiful glowing tan. It makes the towel look fluorescent white.
We sit in silence for a few minutes. While he seems perfectly happy with the situation, I just want the earth to swallow me up so I can die. If I stand to leave he gets a full bird’s-eye view of my body.
Warts and all.
I mean, I have a towel, but it’s freaking tiny. Why did I have to be saving space in my damn gym bag?
He leans back and rests against the wall, his stomach muscles contracting as they catch the light.
Don’t look down, whatever you do, don’t fucking look down.
Well, this is just great. I come in here to relax, and instead get a bird’s-eye view of my asshole boss’s hot body.
“How long have you known Daniel?” he asks.
I frown, how does he even remember his name? “Not very long. Why do you ask?”
Elliot’s eyes hold mine and he gives a gentle shrug. “No reason. You said that you were just friends—”
I cut him off. “We are just friends.”
He raises an eyebrow. “He’s very touchy.”
“What? No he isn’t. That’s just his personality. He’s very affectionate.”
“I noticed,” he says dryly.
I stare at him as my brain malfunctions. “Why would you notice that?” I ask. “And more importantly, why would it matter to you?”
“It doesn’t,” he fires back way too fast. “Merely an observation.”
This is bizarre.
If I didn’t know better, I would say he’s a little jealous. But that’s ridiculous and we both know he couldn’t be.
I stare at him as I try to unravel the puzzle. “What’s your problem?” I ask.
“No problem,” he snaps. He stands in a rush, and for the first time I get a full view of his Adonis physique.
Jeez.
Elliot Miles may be a lot of things, but I can confirm with certainty that he looks good in a towel.
Not that I care, of course.
“So, I’ve been thinking about you,” Daniel says as we walk down the street on our way to pick up our Thai takeout, his arm linked through mine.
“What about me?” I ask.
“Don’t take offense at this.”
I roll my eyes. “When someone says don’t take offense, it means they’re going to say something offensive.”