The door closed with a thud, blowing the hair back from her face.
No, he didn’t…
No, Ty, who treated her as if the sun shone out of her damaged little ass hadn’t just told her to get out and then shut his office door in her face. No way. She stared at the white high-gloss finish on the door panel, mouth open. The asshole didn’t bluff. When he said everything would change he went and freaking changed everything. No workouts together, no provocative ice cream breaks, no cheeky flirtation, no looking at her in a way that made her sweat through her suit jacket. He’d ignored her all-fucking-day.
She turned around and tugged off her jacket then threw it at the chair behind the PA desk she’d never actually used. What was she supposed to do now? Sit there and file her nails?
He’s trying to punish me.
No more than she deserved. Not even half of what she deserved actually. She deserved shit-loads worse than a dose of the cold shoulder for being a cruel, nasty, heart-breaking bitch. She deserved every second of sleeplessness she’d endured, imaging Ty’s hurt expression over and over again. She deserved having her own heart broken.
Brooke swallowed over the fist-sized rock in her throat and tried to pretend she wasn’t really experiencing that last part. She dragged herself to the desk, perched herself on the edge and crossed her legs.
Really, what kind of sick cow lies to the face of a guy who has just implored her for honesty? A guy who she’d just begun to know well enough to understand he didn’t open himself up easily.
No, no, no.
She’d done the right thing. She’d done the only thing she could. There was never going to be any chance of her having any kind of normal relationship. There was almost no chance of her ever even having sex like a normal person, let alone living his little romantic fantasy. It was better he get a little hurt now than continue mooning after her. He’d end up miserable, unhappy and unsatisfied and still chase her because of some twisted sense of obligation.
She had done the right thing.
Oh shit, I’m going to die old, alone, miserable—and fucking horny.
The door opened and she jumped up, stumbling for a moment on her heels.
“Let’s go.”
Ty walked straight past her toward the lifts. Brooke followed and stopped behind him while he pressed the button. The elevator opened and they both stepped inside. She stood next to Ty but looked ahead. Soft classical music filled the carriage. His phone beeped and he pulled it from his breast pocket, turning it toward himself as he checked the display. Brooke tried not to strain toward him.
“You’re going to need to dress up tonight. I’ve ordered something for you to wear.”
Some of the sadness that clung to her like a blanket since the night before lifted. Going out was just what they needed. Just because there couldn’t be anything more between them didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other’s company, right?
She looked at him. At least he was talking to her again. “Where are we going?”
“I have a date,” he said, eyes focused on the digital display screen above the control panel. The elevator beeped and the doors opened into the basement car park. Ty stepped out.
Brooke watched him walk away, feeling as if that blanket had come back with a lead insert. The doors shuddered closed and she leaped forward, sticking her arm and shoulder between them until they opened again. She jogged in her heels to Ty’s car space as he shut his door behind him. She opened the passenger door and slid inside.
Ty started the engine and flipped the car into reverse. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze settling on her for barely a second before it focused out the rear window and he pulled out of the parking space. Brooke stared at the dash and listened to the revving of his car. Her heart seemed to be accelerating faster than the engine. She bet if she put a stethoscope to her chest, it would sound just as violent as the Maserati.
He has a date…
They turned onto the street. Brooke crossed her legs and stared out the window. Did he think she was that naive? That she’d fall for high school tactics? She linked her hands over her knee and her teeth squeezed tight.
Buildings and roads flew by her window in a blur. They turned into Ty’s street. She glanced across the silent interior at him. The bastard looked straight ahead as if she weren’t even in the car. They arrived at his building and parked in his garage.
Ty was wrong. It would take a little more than a fake date to get to her. The fingers she linked together lost feeling as her grip intensified. He couldn’t make her jealous and she’d make sure he knew it. She turned to Ty, catching a glimpse of the back of his head as he ducked out of the car. Brooke unclipped her seat belt and tossed it aside.
Dismissed again.
She exited the car and followed him toward the elevator to his apartment. Oh, she’d tell him exactly what she thought about his damn immature, juvenile games. Ty stepped into the elevator and reached for a button. The doors shuddered and she increased her pace. The large metal doors closed off the view to Ty’s smug, brow-arching expression.
Her temper snapped. She kicked the shiny surface of the elevator door. The sound boomed through the garage and her toes throbbed.
Oh you’re going to hear it now, Ty.
Brooke tugged off her heels and stormed to the stairwell. She leaped up the stairs two at a time, only slowing at the fourth floor when her muscles refused to react with the same intensity as her emotions. Damn, she should have just waited for the elevator to come back down. She took deep, harsh breaths but pushed herself up the last two flights. Her stupid, impulsive decision to take the stairs was his fault too. He deliberately provoked her. Deliberately tried to be an asshole. Deliberately tried to hurt her feelings by pretending to be interested in someone else.
Brooke reached the top of the stairs and stumbled into the penthouse foyer then rapped three times firmly on his door. He made her wait a full two minutes before letting her in.
“You look a bit flustered.” Ty leaned against the door in just his pants, unbuttoned shirt and bare feet.
She wasn’t going to look at him though. Wasn’t going to look at that skin, that silky trail between his pecs. She pushed past him into the apartment.
“I know what you’re doing and it won’t work so drop it.”
“Really, and what am I doing?” He shut the door.
Brooke snorted. “You’re being an asshole. Ignoring me, trying to make me jealous with some bogus date. You’re trying to hurt my feelings.”
Ty tucked his hands into his pockets and lowered his voice to the light tones you use to speak to a child. “Sweetheart, how can I make you jealous when you don't want me?”
The itchy, explosive feeling curling in her stomach magnified and she scowled despite her efforts not to.
He stepped toward her, backing her against the couch. She held her breath, refusing to let his scent sneak up and fog her brain as it tended to do.
He leaned closer and brought his lips beside her ear. “How can I possibly hurt your feelings when you don’t have any?” he whispered.
She gasped. His scent drifted into her lungs. That heady, masculine smell rolled over her but his words hit her straight in the chest. The back of her eyes burned and she shoved her palms into his chest and pushed him.
“I guess I better get ready for your big date then,” she said and stalked to the guestroom.
* * * * *
A fork in the eyeball might not be the most effective means of murdering one’s foe but right then Brooke would bet it’d be pretty damn satisfying. Her stare bored into the couple sitting across the restaurant table. The other blonde rubbed herself against Ty’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear. He gave a rich chuckle, leaned down to speak closely to her then slid his arm around the woman’s shoulders. Brooke rotated the utensil in her hand and imagined it sliding right through one of his date’s murky gray eyes.
“It looks as if you could use some privacy, Mr. Black. I’ll gladly move tables.”
A waiter strode to the table and placed three glasses of champagne on the white linen tablecloth.
Ty didn’t glance up. “I told you already, Brittany understands we don’t need privacy from you, Brooke.”
“Its fine, honey, Ty’s told me all about you,” Brittany said, smiling over brightly bleached teeth.
The civilized expression Brooke cultivated twitched. “But what will people think, you on a date with two women? I would gladly stand in the entrance.”
Ty focused his attention on her for the first time since they’d arrived at the French restaurant. “I don’t think it’d surprise anyone to see me with two women.” He looked down at his date and grinned. “Especially two beautiful, matching women.”
Brittany laughed, drawing looks from the other diners.
Brooke’s skin heated, flushed hot and prickly from her chest all the way into her scalp. Oh someone was going to have to make a sacrifice to the pointy end of her fork all right. Her gaze flicked to Brittany. She wasn’t sure what was worse—that his date was Brooke two-point-bimbo-zero, same blonde hair, same long limbs but with three times the bust and ten times the makeup—or that he’d dressed them the fucking same. She glared at the plunging blue neckline of Brittany’s identical satin dress. No, maybe the worst bit was that Ty decided to dress her in the pink version.
Always with the damn Barbie colors.
Brooke picked up a glass from the table and drained it in three long gulps. The bubbles burned the back of her nose and she set down the empty glass. Great, now she could add drinking on the job to the long list of professional boo-boos she’d made since working for Ty.
At least things couldn’t get much worse, right?
The waiter arrived with their food and Brooke jammed her fork into her salad, skewering lettuce leaves. Ty swirled a spoon of pasta from his plate and held it out to Brittany. She laughed and opened her thickly painted lips, accepting his offering. A dribble of thick, creamy sauce trickled down her chin.
Brooke shoveled the lettuce into her mouth and chewed briskly.
“Want a taste, Brooke?” Ty asked from across the table.
Brooke looked up and continued to chew with an aggression more potent than words.
He extended a fork toward her. Steam rose from the pasta. Bits of bacon clung to the pale strands, bathing her in a rich aroma that clung to her nostrils.
“It’s good,” he said.
Brooke swallowed, looked him in the eye and stabbed her fork right through a chunk of tomato.
Ty just smiled and brought the fork toward his lips. “That’s right, we wouldn’t want to risk you enjoying it, now would we? Not when it might not be good for you.”
He pulled the pasta off the fork with his teeth and chewed. His lips glistened. Her gaze flicked to his mouth and just as in the park the day before not even the rage expanding her blood vessels could stop her from wanting those lips on her. Her heart squeezed and the energy seeped out of her. She deserved to be punished for hurting him so if he wanted to torture her, he could go right ahead. She’d taken worse and survived.
The back of her throat ached. Brooke picked up her napkin and dabbed her lips then set it down. “I need the bathroom.” She stood and glanced back at Ty. “Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.”
“I know how to behave, remember?” he asked.
Her fingers shook and she squeezed them into a fist. Damn right she remembered. She’d never forget. Brooke turned away and made her way to the ladies’ room at the rear of the restaurant.
Brooke pushed through the swinging doors and went right to the basin. She ran her hands under cold water and wiped them on paper towel then pressed her palms to her cheeks. Finally she raised her gaze to the mirror.
Shit.
Her skin was pink all the way to her temples. She ran her cool fingers over her forehead, cursing whichever genes gave her such transparent skin, almost white eyebrows you could see through and hair yellow to the root. She’d never wasted time on her appearance but if she could change one thing, she’d be a bottle-blonde like Brittany. She’d have enough warmth in her tone to hide her sins.
Brooke rested her hands on the edge of the basin and took a few long, slow breaths.
Then several more.
The bathroom door creaked and she stepped back as a woman walked past her to a cubicle. She tugged at the bust of her dress then went back to the table. Ty saw her and stood, helping Brittany to her feet.
Brooke raised a brow. “No dessert for your date, Ty?”
“I have something else planned for dessert, don’t worry,” he said in a voice that destroyed whatever progress Brooke had made at diminishing her flush.
He placed his hand to the small of Brittany’s back, guiding her to the door. Brooke followed behind them, watching Ty’s splayed fingers on Brittany’s skin. They looked like a couple. His hand on her back, guiding her toward his car. Brooke’s stomach clenched. That would never be her. She’d never be led by a touch on her spine, never giggle and flick her hair. Never accept forkfuls of someone else’s meal. She climbed into the small rear of the car, letting Brittany take the front next to Ty.
She stared out the window, tuning out the small talk from the front of the car. Ty turned, pulling the car into the large entrance of a schmancy hotel. He got out and opened the door for Brittany. Brooke climbed out after her then shut the door. Ty tossed the keys to a valet then led them through the main foyer doors.
Ty strode to the reception desk and collected a key. Brooke stood behind him, her blood going from hot to flat-out boiling. No, he isn’t. He wouldn’t. He smiled at Brittany and walked toward the elevator. Brooke grabbed his elbow, drawing him back.
“Whatever you’re doing, Ty, you’re taking it too far. Do you really think this is a game I’m going to play?”
The elevator opened and Ty looked at Brooke, his eyes full of heat she’d somehow missed then he guided her inside. Brittany followed, standing beside them. The doors shut.
Ty leaned down, bringing his lips close to her ear. “I told you I’d die before I hurt you, Brooke. I meant it.”
Her head spun. He had a funny way of not trying to hurt her. She looked at his face. It screamed trust me. She licked her dry lips, suddenly feeling how closed the space was. The elevator opened and Ty took them toward a set of large doors, swiping his key and holding the door open.
They walked into the kind of suite you see in movies. Plush carpet, heavy drapes, a central bed big enough to host an orgy.
“I’ll just freshen up,” Brittany said, walking directly toward a door across the large room.
Suddenly they were alone in this big room with its big bed clearly made for one thing. She glanced at Ty. He tugged at his tie, studying her in a way that made her sure the dessert he’d brought them here for would not be ordered from the room service menu.
Exactly what did he think she’d let him do with another woman right here?
She backed toward the exit. She didn’t care to find out.