Possessed By You (Overworld Underground Book 1) (6 page)

"Which soup do you recommend?"

"I like number thirteen."

I shrugged. "Sounds good."

He ordered two of them, and the chubby little woman wandered off, stealing glances at Thomas as she did. I regarded him again, wondering if there was something about his appearance I'd missed, like a tattoo of Satan emblazoned on his neck.

"So, Miss Glass—"

"Emily."

"Miss Emily—"

"Now you just sound ridiculous."

He grinned. "Why do you have a British accent?"

"I don't have a bloody—" I took a breath. Sighed. "I was born there. My father transferred us here with his job when I was sixteen."

"Why do you try to mask it?"

"To keep people from asking me about it, I suppose."

He leaned back in his seat. "Well, Emily, I think that's silly."

A shiver went through me when he said my name. I felt my eyes widen in surprise. "Silly?" I said, grasping at the line of conversation like a slippery rope dangling from the back of a boat.

"I happen to think a British accent is sexy."

A flush crept up my face. Thomas looked at me appraisingly. I could almost sense his satisfaction at keeping me off balance. "I'm not into older men," I said, regretting the weak riposte the second it left my mouth.

"I suppose it is intimidating for a young woman." The soup arrived. He dumped bean sprouts and an ungodly amount of hot sauce into his as I floundered for a response.

"No, it's just—it's just—I've never been attracted to older men." It was an outright lie, and I knew it. I found plenty of older men very attractive, even ones with more years on them than Thomas. He appeared so ordinary, and yet, there was something devilish lurking behind those eyes of his.

He smiled. "No need to apologize for your preferences, Emily." He took a pair of chopsticks and shoveled a clump of beef and noodles into his mouth, not even attempting to be neat about it.

I grabbed a pair of chopsticks, though a slight tremble of my hand made it difficult to control them. Why did this man have any sort of effect on me? Judging from the amused sparkle in his eyes, he seemed very much aware of my distress. Steeling my nerves, I steadied my hand and successfully delivered a mouthful of noodles, slurping the long ones in a deliberate attempt to show as little grace as possible. I'd show him I didn't care what he thought.

He laughed. "I love the way you eat."

I raised an eyebrow, a fresh bunch of noodles still dangling from my mouth and nearly choked trying to swallow them.

"I hate it when people hide their true nature behind good manners." As if to demonstrate that contempt, he took a spoon, filled it with broth, and piled noodles and beef atop it before cramming it into his mouth.

I accepted his challenge and followed suit. The noodles slipped off the spoon the moment I tried to put it in my mouth, splashing broth on the table and my blouse.

"Oh, hell," I said, grabbing a napkin and brushing at the droplets.

Thomas laughed. "I guess you're not ready for the big leagues of pho eaters just yet."

"Very funny, sir."

At the end of the meal, which was delicious I had to admit, I reached for my purse, but he stopped me.

"My treat," he said, standing up.

"I don't know if that's appropriate, Mr. Jones."

He shrugged. "Appropriate can kiss my—" He looked at his backside. "My well-defined ass."

His ass, obscured as it was in the folds of his khakis was anything but well defined from what I could see, but I giggled, covering my mouth and shaking my head. Again, I asked myself, what was it about this man that caused me to like him?

He paid the bill. Looked back at me with an amused gaze that sent a shiver through me. Again, my intuition pinged with a strange sensation I couldn't identify. Was Thomas toying with me? Did he hit on all the interns? Perhaps that was what had happened to the last one. I suddenly felt very unsure about what I was doing out with this man. For all I knew, he might demand something I wouldn't give him. He could fire me.

This was all a terrible mistake.

Chapter 5

I felt a hand atop my shoulder and looked up into his face. "Stop worrying," he said. "Cut loose and have fun for once. I don't bite too hard."

His hand felt feverishly warm. A chill sent goose bumps up my neck and into my scalp. How did he know what I was feeling? "I can't help but worry. You
are
my boss after all."

He took my coat from the back of the chair and held it out for me. I slipped into it.

"Thank you for the soup, Thomas."

I felt a slight tremble in his hand before he removed it from my shoulder. "You're welcome, Emily." He stood in front of me. "What kind of music do you like?"

Oh lord. I hoped he wasn't about to ask me to a Barry Manilow concert. "Heavy metal," I said, suppressing a grin at the momentary flicker of surprise on his face.

"Perfect." He grinned. Took my hand and guided me outside.

"But I really must get home," I said. "It's a school night."

"It's early." He led me down the street.

"I was joking about heavy metal." I slowed my footsteps. "And it is a bit late. I have to be at work early."

"Don't be an old maid." He pointed to a sign down the street. "That's where we're going. Do you like pie?"

"Oh, I love pie," I said again, unable to bite my traitorous tongue. Damn that thing, it was definitely going to get me into trouble tonight.

We stepped through a door into a foyer. To the left was a pastry shop. A heavyset bouncer guarded a downstairs entrance to our right from where loud music echoed. Approaching the counter, Thomas smiled at the girl behind it. "Two slices of chocolate pecan, and two decaf lattes."

The girl gave Thomas a dreamy look for a second before nodding and taking his order. He motioned me toward a table.

"This really isn't good for my delicate figure," I said, sitting across the table from him.

He raised an eyebrow, a little smirk playing about his lips. "I think it would take quite a lot to spoil your figure." He leaned closer. "Miss Glass."

Even with my coat still on, I shivered and my toes curled in my shoes. "Are you wearing some sort of pheromone-enhanced cologne? Or chocolate deodorant?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, never mind," I said. There was no way I'd let this man know what sort of effect he had on me. Or the effect he apparently had on other women as well.

The cute girl from the counter dropped off our pie and lattes, lingering for a moment to look at Thomas with big doe eyes, and ask him if there was anything else he could possibly desire. "My shift ends in an hour," she said, not concealing her intentions whatsoever.

My forehead pinched in confusion as I looked from the fair maiden to the older man.

"I'm with a friend," he said with a broad smile.

She sighed longingly and went back to her onerous duties.

Thomas shook his head and turned back to me. "You're gonna love this pie," he said. "Best in town." He took a bite, closing his eyes and sighing. "Mmm. So good."

There was something oddly sensuous about his enjoyment. Well, two could play at that game. I cut a piece. Locked my eyes onto his, and slid the fork into my mouth, pursing my lips as suggestively as possible. Chocolate and pecan ignited my taste buds in a blissful explosion. I closed my eyes and moaned in genuine pleasure. "Oh, it really is yummy."

I opened my eyes and saw him regarding me, a somewhat stunned look on his face. He recovered. Smiled. "It is, isn't it?"

A little part of me was thrilled to see his response. I'd never been as good with men as Isabel. Her exotic looks grabbed men by the tender bits and drew them to her like a sexual vortex.

"You liked getting a reaction out of me, didn't you?" Thomas took a sip of his latte. "Be careful. You might get more than you bargained for."

"I'm always careful, Thomas."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" A wink. "Careful not to suppress too much, or you might explode one day."

"Is that hope I hear in your voice?"

He chuckled. "So, how do you like the new job so far?"

"It's been absolutely lovely, what with Sandra throwing up and me spilling coffee all over you."

"What do you want to do when you grow up?" He winked. "And don't say princess."

I felt my lips spread into a smile. "When I grow up? Oh, I don't know. I'd like to be an executive with a corner office, and a bunch of plushy pens on my desk."

"An executive with plushy pens?" He laughed. "So you want to boss people around, is that it?"

I shrugged. "It sounds like fun."

His eyes twinkled. "You are too much, Emily."

I smirked. "I'd like to think I'm just enough."

We finished our pies and lattes in an unfortunately short period of time. I could have savored that pie all night. Thomas stood. Stretched. Two women seated at a nearby table watched him the entire time, leaving me somewhat bewildered. Nothing new with this man, I supposed. Perhaps knights in shining armor emitted a glow I was unaware of. I sniffed the air, questing for the telltale scent of mind-altering cologne, but smelled nothing but coffee and the slight odor of something burned.

As we made for the door, Thomas turned toward the bouncers on the stairs instead of heading outside. Music thudded from below. "Got your ID?" he asked.

"But, it's late," I said in protest.

"Are you my grandmother?" he said, laughing.

I didn't even want to imagine what age that would put me at, and shook my head. "Yes, I do have my ID," I said in a terse voice. Oh, I'd show him whose grandmother I was. I was young. I was the Energizer bunny, damn it. When he came to work all bleary eyed in the morning, I'd be the one laughing.

We headed downstairs, the music booming loud enough to vibrate every molecule in my body. People my age danced in a rectangular room with a bar at one end and a stage with a live band playing. I had to admit the music was of the alternate rock variety I liked. Thomas directed me to the floor and started to prance about like a loon. It took all my willpower not to burst into laughter as he performed something resembling a chicken dance alternating with raise the ceiling.

Not that dancing was my forte. Usually several strong drinks were required before I loosened up. Still, nothing could look as ridiculous as his little caper. I moved side-to-side, wiggling my hips about, hopelessly trying to channel Isabel's smooth eye-catching form.

Thomas stopped dancing and laughed. He guffawed so hard, he doubled over, holding his stomach. I froze, mortified.

"What do you find so funny, Mr. Jones?" I yelled to be heard over the music, except at that moment, the band went silent, and my comment broadcast all about the room.

He caught his breath, shook his head, and assumed a serious expression. "Nothing at all."

"It's that time of the night," the lead singer of the band shouted. "Who's first?"

"First?" I said, as Thomas took my arm and moved us toward the stage.

"Karaoke time." He winked.

"Absolutely not!" I said tugging desperately to free myself from his grasp.

He gave me a devilish grin and stopped at the stage. "I have a volunteer."

The singer looked at me, a smile widening across his face. "What song, cutie?"

"I am not, I repeat,
not
volunteering to sing," I said, giving Thomas a stern look.

"Fine," he said, shrugging. "Guess I'll do it then."

"You up for it, grandpa?" the singer said with a teasing laugh.

"I was singing for rock bands when you were pooping your diapers." Thomas flashed a confident grin, hopped onstage with ease, and took the microphone. He turned and shouted something at the band, causing quite a few of them to break out in laughter.

The bass player started strumming a very familiar beat. Thomas, still facing the band, spun and shouted, "I like big butts and I cannot lie, you other brothers can't deny, when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and round thing in your face, you get sprung!"

My eyes went wide and an embarrassed flush ran across my skin. "Oh lord," I said, ready to flee as Thomas performed a white boy dance while he sang, rapped, and quite likely committed multiple crimes against humanity.

The crowd went wild, laughing and singing along, girls sticking out their bottoms and wagging them about, even if they didn't possess posteriors with the qualities espoused in the song.

The band seemed to love it as well, adding their own alt-rock twist to the melody. I couldn't help it, really I couldn't. But the mood pulled me in, and I laughed and sang along as Thomas, looking quite the fool, and at the same time, quite the man, gave a performance I knew nobody here would soon forget.

When the song finished, the crowd erupted into cheers. Several of the nearby women seemed to unconsciously gravitate our way. A young man thrust shots into our hands, and a big group formed around Thomas and me. Caught up in the moment, I held my shot glass high with the others and downed it, savoring the rush of fire in my throat and feeling as if something inside me, something I thought had died long ago, came back to life.

This is fun!

Thomas wrapped an arm around my waist and swung me around. I laughed. He set me down, and suddenly it seemed there was no one else in the place with us. His eyes and mine locked. Time seemed to linger in place. My stomach tingled. He caressed my cheek with a hand. Leaned in, and kissed me.

A shiver ran up my spine. My stomach muscles clenched. His lips were soft, gentle, so warm. His whiskers felt rough against my chin. An electric thrill ran from my lips and into my lower belly.

He jerked back, a surprised look on his face, mouth slightly open while the group around us cheered us on. A troubled look crossed his features, though he quickly covered it with a smile. Bowing and thanking our new acquaintances, Thomas took my hand and pulled me through the crowd. We emerged outside, the cold biting into my skin after the heat of crowded dancing bodies. I was still flushed and slightly perspiring beneath my clothes. Thomas, though a bit rumpled, hardly seemed affected by the sudden transition in temperature.