Endless Obsession (13 page)

So why do I get the feeling I should have told him?

I push the thought away, not ready to examine it further. There’s no way I could cancel on Eric now, not when we’ll be leaving soon. I’ll go, enjoy myself, and politely let him know that it can’t go any further. I just hope it doesn’t interfere with our working relationship.

I feel a sense of déjà vu, and think about my date with Marc. This is definitely not the same. It’s stupid to even think about my date with him.

“Great,” Eric says, bringing me back to the present. He leans away from my desk and takes a step back. “You go ahead. Give me about ten minutes and I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

When he turns to leave, something catches my eye. I look over and see Mr. Knight watching Eric walk away. The expression on his face is hard, and if I’m not mistaken, it seems malicious. When he looks back at me, the emotion is gone and is replaced by something I’ve never seen from him before. My eyes must be playing tricks on me, because for a minute I swear I see blatant desire written across his face. My heart flutters and my breath hitches at the look. It’s fierce and unconcealed.

I blink and give my head a little shake. By the time I look back at him, the look is gone.

What the hell was that?

Mr. Knight looks at me, emotionless, for a couple more seconds, before saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Poppy.”

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Knight,” I tell him, and watch as he turns on his heel and walks back into his office, closing the door behind him.

I look at the door for a while longer, still unsure if I saw what I think I did. Mr. Knight has never looked at me in such a way before, and the look he gave Eric as he walked away was one of pure menace. If looks could kill, Eric would be lying lifeless on the floor right now.

I open the bottom drawer of my desk and grab my purse as Liv walks up.

“You ready?” she asks.

“Yep.”

As we ride the elevator down, we make plans for the weekend to have lunch and go over some wedding details. I can tell she’s jonesing to get on the ball with the planning. Her face lights up as we talk, and I can’t help to be just as excited with her.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a date with Eric this afternoon,” she complains for the third time today.

“First, it’s not a date. It’s just two coworkers going out for dinner. And I didn’t tell you because it’s not that big of a deal.”

Our heels echo off the concrete walls as we walk across the parking garage. I’ve always found the noise creepy, reminding me of the movies where a woman gets chased down and hurt in the dark by a mysterious man. Even now, it sends goosebumps down my arms.

“Come on, Poppy. You can’t be that naive. The man has the hots for you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” she confirms, coming to a stop at her car.

“He does not!” I whip around, surprised. Eric has always been nice, but he’s never shown interest like that in me.

“Oh, Pop.” She shakes her head in sympathy. “You really need to open your eyes more. The man is gaga over you.”

“Really?” I ask, brows pulled down, thinking back to all the times Eric’s stopped at my desk to talk with me. Could I be so naive to have not noticed his interest? I don’t have much experience with men, but I would have thought I would know interest when it was there.

She smiles at me and reaches over for a hug before getting in her car. She doesn’t answer my question, just continues to give me her knowing smile. She starts her car and then powers down her window while I stand there, still contemplating her words.

“Have fun. And let me know what Sterling has to say about your date tomorrow.”

Before I get a chance to respond, she winks at me and speeds off. I walk to my car, slide inside, and exit the parking garage, driving toward the small Mexican restaurant I’m meeting Eric at, the whole time thinking about him and Sterling. Now that Liv pointed it out to me, I can see why she would say what she did. There’s been signs of Eric’s interest, but I’ve never paid any attention to them, playing it off as him being friendly.

My mind again wanders to Sterling and the fact that I didn’t tell him. Will he find out? And if he does, will he be angry with me? I reiterate to myself that I don’t owe him anything. However, for some reason, he believes I’m his, and a small, irrational part of me feels the same way. But a bigger part of me won’t allow that to happen until I meet him, to get to know the man he is.

When the waitress seats me at a small table, I let her know that I’m waiting for someone else to arrive and give her his name. A few minutes later, she brings me a glass of water to hold me over until Eric arrives. Twenty minutes pass and my gaze keeps straying to the front of the restaurant. I glance down at my phone that’s on the table with a worried frown. He said ten minutes, and it’s been well over that. We exchanged phone numbers on Monday, and I would think he would call if he was going to be late.

The thought no sooner enters my mind when my phone chimes on the table. I pick it up and see Eric’s name displayed across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Poppy,” comes Eric’s smooth voice. “I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to make it. I must have run over something this morning on my way into work. I’ve got two flat tires, and only one spare. I’m waiting on the tow truck now.”

“Oh, okay.” I feel both relief and disappoint with the news. “That’s okay. I understand.”

“I really am sorry,” he says, sincerity plain in his voice.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I can just grab something on the way home.”

“No,” he rushes out. “I’ve already called the restaurant and had them set up a tab. Stay and have dinner on me. It’s the least I can do.”

The thought of eating alone doesn’t really appeal to me. I’ve never been the type to sit in a restaurant by myself to eat or have drinks. I prefer the solitude of my home.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine—”

I’m cut off when he says, “Please, stay. I feel bad that I invited you out to dinner and had to cancel. It’ll make me feel better knowing you still had a good meal.”

I look around the restaurant and only spot a few occupied tables. It’s silly to have this feeling of being looked at sitting at my table, alone, so I push the uncomfortable feeling aside.

“Okay. Thank you, Eric. I’m so sorry you couldn’t make it.”

“I am, too. Can I have a rain check?”

The guilt I feel from the relief of not having dinner with him and the hopeful sound of his voice is the only reason I agree.

“I’d love to.” I bite my lip at the lie, knowing I’ll come up with an excuse to not go next time.

“Great. Sit and enjoy your meal. I’ll see you tomorrow, Poppy.”

I thank him one more time before we hang up. Just as I set my phone on the table, the waitress comes back with a menu in hand.

“Would you like a menu?” She smiles kindly at me.

“Yes, please.”

She leaves, giving me a few minutes to look it over. I scan it, still feeling awkward. I lift my head to look around the room, once again feeling silly when I find no one watching me. I shift in my chair, just as my phone alert goes off. I can’t help but smile when I see it’s from Sterling.

Sterling:
How was your day, Beautiful?

I love it when he calls me that, because it makes me
feel
beautiful.

Me:
Uneventful. How was yours?

I set my phone down and glance back at the menu as I wait for his reply.

Sterling:
Business meetings all day. What are you doing right now?

I peek around the restaurant again, wondering if I should tell him the truth. I hate liars, and I don’t want to become one, so I decide on the truth.

Me:
I’m sitting in a restaurant, getting ready to eat.

His reply is almost instant, but before I can look, the waitress comes back. She takes my order and saunters off in her black flats.

Sterling:
Why are you sitting in a restaurant alone?

I bring my head up and look around the room again. There’s no way he can know I’m alone unless he’s watching, and the thought alone sends pleasure through my treacherous body. What in the hell is wrong with me?

Me:
Are you watching me again?

I wait anxiously for a reply, stupidly excited at the thought.

My phone pings again in my hands, just as someone calls my name.

“Poppy?”

Feeling frustrated at being interrupted, I tear my gaze away from my phone and look up into a pair of piercing green eyes.

Caught off guard by the man standing in front of me, I do the only thing I can do at the moment—sit there and stare like an idiot. Mr. Knight’s suit jacket is missing and the sleeves of his black dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows, making his tattoos stand out. His hair has that rough and tumble look, and there’s a light layer of dark scruff on his face. I just saw him not even forty-five minutes ago, but the sight of him makes me breathless nonetheless. There’s something about the man that always sends tingles all over my body.

He clears his throat, reminding me that I’ve been staring at him for the last several seconds. I blink and drop my gaze to the phone that’s in my lap, embarrassed.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, still stunned he’s standing in front of me. This doesn’t seem like his kind of restaurant.

Instead of answering, he cocks his head to the side, watching me, and asks a question of his own. “Are you eating alone?”

Everywhere his eyes touch feels like a soft caress, causing my body to go into sensory overload.

“Yes… I mean, no.” I shake my head. I’m rambling, and making a fool of myself. “Yes, I’m eating alone. Eric was supposed to meet me, but he had car trouble.”

“Really?” His brows shoot up in surprise. “What a shame. I’m alone as well. Mind if I join you?” he asks, indicating the chair across from me with his chin.

“Sure,” I say nervously, fiddling with the tablecloth that’s hanging over the edge.

As soon as his butt hits the seat, the waitress comes over and offers him a menu. He doesn’t take it, but instead rattles off his order, indicating that he’s eaten here before. His eyes never leave mine as he talks to the waitress. I start to get nervous, crossing and uncrossing my legs. I tell myself it’s not because of the small ache between them, but I know it’s a lie. This guy is intense and demands attention, and my body is all too willing to oblige.

Why is it that the thought of sitting here eating with Eric doesn’t excite me like it does with Mr. Knight? And why am I still clutching my phone, wanting to look down at what Sterling’s response was, even though I’m currently mesmerized by someone else? This doesn’t bode well for me, and makes me feel like a hussy.

“How long have you and Eric been seeing each other?” Mr. Knight asks, leaning back in his seat, getting comfortable.

“We, uh… we aren’t. We were just having a friendly dinner after work,” I tell him, and watch him smirk. It’s sexy as hell.

After a minute, he murmurs, “I see.” He rests his clasped hands on the table. “So, Poppy, tell me about yourself.”

I blanch at his question, not sure how to respond, and wondering why he’s even sitting here with me. I clear my throat, trying to gather my thoughts.

“Why?” I question him, instead of answering.

He shrugs his wide shoulders. “I’m curious. You’ve worked for me for almost a year now, and you’ve never revealed anything personal.”

“The same could be said for yourself,” I retort, shocking myself.

He chuckles, the sound playing havoc on my senses, and sounds oddly familiar—which is strange because I’ve never heard him laugh before.

I shift in my seat. He notices the movement and smirks again.

“This is true. Is there anything you’d like to know?”

There’s a lot of things I’d like to know about Mr. Knight, but I’d never have the nerve to ask.

The waitress comes back with our drinks, and to tell us our food will be out momentarily. I snatch my drink up and take a healthy swallow. The sweet wine falls smoothly down my dry throat. When I place the glass back on the table, I look back at Mr. Knight to see him still watching me with his bright green eyes. He lifts a brow as if in question, reminding me of our conversation before the waitress came up.

“There’s not much to tell, Mr. Knight—”

“Asher,” he interrupts.

“Excuse me?”

“Call me Asher.”

“Oh, umm… I’m not sure if I should. I mean, I work for you.”

“So?”

“So, wouldn’t it seem inappropriate?” I ask, confused at the turn of the conversation. He’s never asked me to call him Asher before. Why now?

“Do I look like a man who cares what other people think? I have several employees that call me Asher, and I work the closest with you. It would be more appropriate for you to call me by my first name than anyone else in the company.”

His reasoning is sound, but it still seems strange to call him Asher. I’ve called him Mr. Knight since the beginning. Although, it may feel weird, the thought of calling him by his first name sends pleasure racing through me. I’ve always loved the name Asher.