“I like familiar.” I inched closer.

“It would be a mistake.” Her eyes were unfocused.

“Sounds like fun.”

“I can’t risk it….”

She was definitely speaking to herself, and the words had a sobering effect. I stilled and leaned back a bit, searching her face, remembering her earlier statement.

“Annie, why don’t you date?”

I was curious. I didn’t do relationships anymore, not after Brona; so I wondered if, like me, Annie had some deep-seated reason for not dating.

“Huh?” She blinked at me, dazed. She yanked her fingertips away from her mouth like she’d just realized what she was doing and shook her head.

I grinned because the kiss seemed to have made her foggy headed. “You said before that you don’t date. Why is that?”

“I just don’t.” Her eyes fell away and then lifted back to mine like she was trying to be brave. I thought that the way she spoke in short sentences was more down to her social anxiety rather than not having more to say. It was like the words were there, but they got stuck in her throat.

“A beautiful woman like you should be dating. It’s a damn shame to waste all that pretty skin.” I leaned forward, her sweet lips too tempting; but her eyes flashed, and she flinched away.

She rolled her chair back and away from me. “I don’t see how not dating is wasting my…skin.” Annie frowned and tugged on her sleeve, sitting up straighter now and obviously trying to regain an air of professionalism. It was way too fucking late for that.

I only raised an eyebrow at her in response, at how she’d pulled away, because I knew she was playing dumb now. I stared at her, trying to figure out how we’d gone from kissing to this. I wasn’t ready to talk business again, not yet—maybe never with her. Not when we’d just been wrapped around each other and I wasn’t sure why we’d stopped.

A second later her stomach rumbled again, and her cheeks grew redder.

I saw my opening, and I took it. “You’re hungry. Let’s go get some lunch.” I stood up, holding my hand out to her.

She glanced at me and then focused on my fingers. She was looking at my hand like it might bite her. “I told you I don’t date.”

“Somebody thinks very highly of themselves,” I teased, wanting to ease the tension. “I’m not asking you on a date. This is work. We still need to finish up here, and you’re clearly too hungry to continue.” Obviously, I was full of shit given that I’d just been feeling her up, telling her I wondered what she tasted like, and kissing the hell out of her. But I wanted her to feel comfortable enough to spend time with me so that I could—well, so that I could get into her pants. And surprisingly, despite myself, I kind of wanted to get to know her better, too, but I refused to analyze why.

Self-consciously, she wrapped her arms around her middle, still flustered. “I can grab something here. I’ve got some Snickers bars in my office.”

I stared at her, frowning. She mumbled something under her breath about pricks and Pepé le Pew.

“I’m not letting you eat Snickers bars for your lunch. You need real food. I’ll take you to my mate’s restaurant. You know Tom’s Southern Kitchen?”

Her eyes widened in a weird way and lifted to mine, and there was a beat of silence. “Yes, I know it. I really like the food there,” she admitted, almost reluctantly.

“Well then, how can you refuse?” I asked, still holding my hand out to her. She looked at it again, her mouth making a firm line, and then she turned and gathered her things, standing up without my assistance. She hesitated at the door, glancing at me over her shoulder. I hurried forward and opened the door for her, and she seemed surprised by the gesture.

She gave me a little glance from under her long lashes and then continued walking. I followed, liking my view of her backside as we left the offices.

“Did you drive here, Mr. Fitzpatrick?” Annie asked as we stepped into the elevator. Unfortunately we weren’t alone; three other working professional types stepped onto the lift with us.

I noticed that Annie was still insisting on addressing me formally, but I wasn’t going to let it get to me. Truth be told, her calling me Mr. Fitzpatrick was a bit of a turn-on. I could imagine her beneath me, submitting, begging Mr. Fitzpatrick for more. Just being around this woman got me all worked up, got the dirty part of my brain working overtime.

“Because if you did, I can catch a cab and meet you at the restaurant,” she continued as the doors opened to the lobby, everyone filing out.

I rested a hand on her lower back and felt her flinch at the contact, her spine straightening. But then she relaxed and let me guide her through the lobby.

“No, I didn’t drive today. Although I’d love to take you for a ride sometime. It’ll be a real experience for you.” I put a hand on her elbow just as we went through the doors and wondered if she’d picked up on the innuendo. She stopped when we got onto the street, and I saw her throat working. When she looked back at me, her gaze was heated as it moved from my eyes to my hand on her arm, and her cheeks and neck were a delightful shade of pink.

I guessed my offer to give her a ride was putting pleasant thoughts in her head.

“In the meantime,” I said with forced nonchalance, trying to school my smile, “we’ll catch a cab together. That way, we can share the cost.” I winked, having no intention of letting her pay.