Southern Seduction (114 page)

I can’t really disagree with her argument, and I don’t have time to discuss the pros and cons of taking her virginity. “Fine. You make a good point, but can we discuss this later? This feels a little bit too much like a business transaction. If we do this, if I take this from you, I don’t want it to seem like a scheduled appointment, okay? Let’s just take it from here and see how things play out.”

She slides out of my arms and starts to walk back towards her towel. I’m about to leave when she turns around to look at me.

“You will sleep with me before this summer is over, Sawyer Callahan,” she says, grinning at me and looking sexy as hell. All I can do is groan and hope Wyatt doesn’t give me too much shit for being late—and having the biggest erection of my life because there’s no hiding it in my jeans. Shaking my head, I can only imagine the horse cock jokes that await me, but the thought of being with Cheyenne is worth every single one, and I can’t fucking wait for her to make good on her promise.

March 2014

Sawyer

Cheyenne’s been working for me for a little over two months, and since that standoff in my office on her first day, we’ve been able to keep our relationship strictly professional. When I came to work the next day, I noticed that the picture frame was gone, and it gave me a little bit of satisfaction to know that she kept it. I’ve tried to talk to her here and there about Berkeley and her years in California, but I usually only get one-word answers, so I stopped asking.

We’re working on a project that has a tight deadline, which has caused us to work long hours at the office, and tonight’s no different. She’s sitting across from me, her legs crossed, and my eyes trail down them to take in the sexy heels on her feet. Every day I’m tortured by her presence, and on days like today, when she wears a tight pencil skirt that perfectly shows off her ass, I can barely keep myself from staring. I’m about two pencil skirt days away from a sexual harassment complaint. Fortunately, I’m not a twenty-year-old horndog and I can control my erections a little more easily.

She’s lost in a stack of paperwork as she goes over the product details. Looking at the clock, I see that it’s already after seven.

“Hey, why don’t we pack it in for the night,” I suggest, and she barely looks up at me. “Cheyenne, it’s Friday night. I’m sure you have better places to be than at work right now.”

Waving me off, she shrugs. “I don’t have any plans for this weekend. I want to finish going over these files so I can start drawing up ideas this weekend,” she says.

Not wanting to be here any longer tonight, I stand up and round the desk, about to pluck the files out of her hands. “Let’s at least take a break and go grab some dinner,” I suggest, silently hoping she’ll agree to go out in public with me, even if it’s under the guise of a business dinner.

She finally puts the files back in their folder and then places it on my desk. Before she can say anything, I hear her stomach rumble. She smiles sheepishly at me.

“I guess I better feed you,” I tell her, standing up, gesturing for her to come with me.

A look of uneasiness crosses her face, but she doesn’t decline. She gathers up her things and I lock the office door behind us.

“It’s just dinner, Cheyenne,” I tell her, hoping to put her at ease. I’m relieved when I see her shoulders relax, and I lead her towards the elevator. “I haven’t been out in downtown Atlanta recently. What sounds good to you?”

Surprising me, she suggests going back to her place. “My roommates went back to California for the weekend, and honestly, after this long week, I want nothing more than to slip into my sweats and order some Chinese takeout. Does that sound okay to you?”

“Sounds perfect, although I’ll be a little overdressed in my suit,” I tease her, and my heart swells when she grins at my comment.

“I might be able to raid Bryan’s closet to find something suitable for you to wear. Suits and veggin’ on the couch don’t exactly go hand in hand though, so you’ll have to make do with whatever I can find.”

“I have no problem with that. Hell, half the time I hang out in my birthday suit, so you know I’m comfortable with anything,” I say jokingly, sighing with relief when she smiles back at me. “I just want to hang out, Cheyenne. To get to know you again. Is that really such a hard pill to swallow? We started out as friends a long time ago, and I don’t see any reason why we can’t be friends again. I promise, no funny business. I just want to spend time with you when you don’t have your nose stuck in a sales report or production analysis.”

She seems to consider my words as we ride the elevator in silence. When we get to the ground floor, she turns to me. “Oh, what the hell. You’re right. Plus, we’ve been working together just fine. I don’t see any reason why we can’t be friends again. In fact, I’d like that, Sawyer.”

Thank Christ. I was all prepared to beg. Hearing her finally admit that we could be friends is a relief. Does part of me wish we could be more? Hell yes, but I’ll take what I can get for now. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not looking to get involved romantically with her. I’m not sure my heart could take it, but there’s just something about her. I’m as drawn to her as I was before, and at the end of the day, I can’t get her off my mind. I think I’ve spent more late nights in the office this past month than I have since I started working there.

“Friends it is,” I agree, shooting her a smile that she returns. “Want me to follow you?”

“Sure, but let me write my address down for you just in case. You never know how the crazy Atlanta traffic will be,” she says, pulling a pen out of her purse. “I’ll go ahead and call in an order so I can pick up. Anything specific you want?”

Before I can answer, she hands me her address, and my heart flips like she’s just handed me the winning Powerball lottery ticket. She has no idea what she’s just done by allowing me to find out where she lives. She mentioned once that she lives in Five Points, and while part of me wanted to crack into her employment info, I was able to stop myself. As much as I wanted to know exactly where in the neighborhood she was, I figured breaking tons of ethics guidelines was the wrong way to go about it.

The thing is that I also live in Five Points, and one of my favorite taverns is right in the heart of the neighborhood. I won’t lie; I have found myself going there more often this past month than usual, hoping to possibly catch her out sometime. I know, I know. It sounds creepy and stalkery, but you try going six years without seeing the first girl you ever loved and then having her suddenly show back up again. Seeing her just at work hasn’t been enough, so if I have to resort to stalker-like methods—albeit unsuccessful ones—then that’s what I’ll have to do.

“Sawyer? Dinner? I know Shiloh Grove wasn’t exactly crawling with Chinese restaurants, so I have no idea what you’d want,” she says, interrupting my thoughts. We’re standing in the middle of the lobby, and she’s looking at me, waiting for my answer. I’m trying to suppress the huge grin that wants to spread of my face at the thought of sitting in her apartment, alone, getting to know her again. “Sawyer!”

Dammit. I realize I still haven’t answered her, and she’s looking at me like I have two heads. “Sorry, I just had a thought. Get whatever you want. I’m not picky.”

“If you say so,” she replies, and we leave the building and walk towards the parking garage where we get in separate cars. I open up the favorites tab in my GPS and plug her address in, hoping that it’ll get a lot of use in the future.

Cheyenne was right when she commented on the traffic. I lost her not long after we left the office. Instead of going straight to her place, I made a detour to grab a bottle of wine. Hey, friends can share a bottle on a Friday night, right? Now that I’m knocking on her door, I’m not so sure and I hope she doesn’t read more into it. I’m second-guessing my decision when she opens up the door and I watch as her eyes widen when she takes in the sight of me. I happened to have a gym bag with fresh clothes in it in my car, and I grabbed it, not exactly wanting to wear some other guy’s clothes. Her eyes run up and down my body as she takes in the sight of me standing here in a suit with the bag slung over my shoulder and a bottle of wine in my hand. Yeah, this probably looks wrong.

“Make a pit stop, Callahan?” she asks, and I don’t miss that she still hasn’t invited me in.

Shrugging, I try to act as cool as possible. “I had clothes in the car and figured a nice red would go well with dinner. It’s been a long week and you’ve been working your ass off. I figured we could end the week on a high note. Just sit back and relax. No big deal, Cheyenne.”

She raises her left eyebrow like she doesn’t believe me, but she swings the door open and gestures for me to come inside. I follow her as she leads us to an open kitchen, where she has placed a couple of plates and several cartons of food. Grabbing the wine from me, she gets out a wine key and opens it before pouring two glasses.

I take a moment to check her out when she’s not paying attention. She’s wearing grey yoga pants that cling to her ass, and I’m pretty sure she’s trying to kill me. The tiny white tank top that covers her upper half is almost see-through, and yeah, she’s definitely trying to kill me because I can tell she’s not wearing a bra. When my eyes trail down her legs, I can see black ink on the top of her bare foot. I smile, seeing that tattoo, remembering how she freaked out when I first suggested one. I move in a little closer to get a peek, and my smile falls when I see what the tattoo is of.

Clearing my throat, I struggle to tear my eyes away from her. “Is there somewhere I can change? This tie is stifling. I like to get out of them as soon as I can, and I don’t wear anything but jeans, t-shirts, and shorts for the entire weekend,” I tell her, loosening my tie, more than ready to get comfortable. Standing here in her kitchen talking about undressing feels strangely intimate, and part of me is wishing that she was the one doing it for me.

“Oh, of course. You can go in the bathroom. First door on the right. Or if you want more space, my room’s at the end of the hall. You can change in there if you want. Feel free to grab a hanger out of my closet, too, so you don’t get your suit all wrinkled up,” she says, and I’m surprised that she’s offering for me to go into her personal space, let alone her closet.

“Thanks. I think I’ll take you up on that.” I walk down the hall and find her room, not surprised that it’s completely spotless. She’s always been meticulous and almost obsessive about having a clean room. I think it stems from all those years she spent doing the household chores instead of her mom.

Slipping out of my shoes, I change quickly. I feel a little weird going into her closet to grab a hanger, but she did offer. I’m about to close the door when something catches my eye. Bending down, I pick up a small notebook that’s resting on the floor of the closet. I’m not sure if it fell or if it was already there. I want to open it, yet I know I shouldn’t. The best way to get myself kicked out of here is for her to catch me snooping. It could be nothing, but it could also be private, so I listen to my conscience and set it back down.

I move over to her desk, which is covered with sketches. Leaning in to get a closer look, I’m surprised when I see that they’re all drawings of swallows. I guess I really shouldn’t be, as it was always her thing, and suddenly I feel like an ass for throwing it in her face that day. I can’t tear my eyes away from the sheets of paper. There are probably twelve or so drawings here, and every single one is practically the same. In each drawing, there’s only one swallow, never two or more.

Just as I’m about to pick one of the drawings up, I hear a throat clear behind me. “Umm, Sawyer? What are you doing?” I hear Cheyenne ask, and I turn around, seeing her watching me from the doorway.

“Uhh, sorry. I was just checking out your drawings. I didn’t know you still did it,” I admit, figuring that I might as well be honest since she caught me.

She shrugs and gestures for me to follow her. “I stopped for a while. I didn’t get to do a whole lot of bird watching during college. I guess something about being back in Georgia inspired me to start back up again. Come on. I’ve got dinner all dished out,” she says, walking out of the room.