"What?" I growled.

"I said silly little kiss," she whispered through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t asking what because I’m deaf. I’m asking it so you have another chance to change that dumbass answer. Silly kiss, my ass,” I snapped, crumpling up the singles ad in her face and tossing it. Her face blanched white. Shit. I stepped back, utterly horrified by the way I just acted toward her. I was…I was growling.

People filed in, talking and laughing. Sophia rolled her eyes in Lexa's direction. "Hello, James. You look awful. What happened? Haven't been sleeping well?" she smirked as she walked past us.

"I spent the night thinking about something silly,” I growled. Jesus. I was still growling. Clenching my teeth together, eyes boring into Lexa’s, and answering the whore at the same time, “Goddamn silliest thing that ever happened to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it." Lexa stared at me, biting down on her lip so she didn't smile. She stumbled back, taking the first seat she could grab onto at the conference table.

I watched her move. Listened to her talk. Listened as my father ranted about ratings, advertisement, and marketing. Sophia tried to take over the conference with ideas about the elusive Alex Kavon and I realized that was the exact reason she was screwing Trager. She was trying to climb up the ladder here, trying to use Trager to get to Alex. She really acted as if she thought Trager was Alex. Maybe Lexa wouldn’t even know if Kevin was Alex.

Lexa interrupted her as if she wasn’t even there, “Mr. Holt I would really appreciate the chance to show you a column or two of what I’ve been working on. I think…”

“I don't need anymore fluffy woman's crap. I want strength and character, brawn, and to hell with being politically correct. I want funny and well—you’re just a fact checker. That’s all we need you to be,” my father continued his tirade, slamming his palms down on the conference table, making everyone around him stutter and jump. Everyone save me. I sat and stared at Lexa. I was still growling.

I have no idea what the rest of the meeting was about. None.

All I know is Lexa was pissed off at me. Was it the kiss? Shit, I needed to find out.

12

Lexa

“The best way to get over your ex is probably going at least 100 in the vehicle of your choice.” @Kavon #WhereCanIBuyATank

He's late. It was probably the eleventy-hundredth time I checked my watch. We'd been drinking and talking for an hour. I sat there and moped with Mandy and Leslie with their fruity martinis and Frank and Thomas with their shots of Tequila. Frank with his hands on my shoulders, pecking kisses on my cheek, telling me I looked incredibly beautiful to him. Men are all idiots. Especially taken ones.

Then James and Evan walked in. He'd changed out of his suit into a pair of faded jeans and a fitted t-shirt. He was one of those men that didn’t walk—he sauntered. Confidence and power followed him. He was captivating and alluring. And I needed to remember he was one of my bosses and forget he’d given me the most heated kissed I’d ever had in my life.

Stop. Don’t think about it.

Everything beneath my waist ignored my pleas and started throbbing immediately. I couldn’t blame my girl parts—they’d been underappreciated for so long.

The minute he made it to our table, Mandy blurted out, "God, you're gorgeous. How do you not want to touch yourself all the time?"

"That's exactly what I think about most women!" Evan barked, sliding into the seat next to Mandy, completely undressing her with his pervy eyes. "And my God, are you beautiful. What are you drinking?"

"Watermelon martini," she smiled, eye-undressing him right back. I fanned myself and wiggled uncomfortably in my seat. It was as if someone turned on the mating season episode on the Discovery channel.

Evan snapped his fingers in Thomas's face. "Thomas! Thomas? Here's some cash," he threw a hundred dollar bill down in front of him. "Go get another round. Be gone man. Be gone!"

"Evan Peterson! Do you think you can charm me into bed with your smooth talking, your good looks, and free martinis?” Mandy teased, flipping her hair behind her.

“Definitely,” he smirked.

“Then you sir, are in for the night of your life."

"Marry me?" Evan laughed, hanging his hand over the back of her chair. Ew, what a creep.

Everyone seated at the table did a collective eye roll. Funniest synchronization I’d ever seen.

"Hey," James said quietly, sitting down next to me. "Sorry we got here so late. Evan is more of a girl than any girl I have ever met." He slid close to me and the warmth radiating off his body sent a shiver across my shoulders. “Took him an hour to get his hair perfect.”

On my other side, Frank moved closer to me as well—which was all sorts of awkward, since I’m friends with the girl he is dating and he’d been acting like a horndog since we all arrived. “Do you need another drink, Lex?”

“Nope. I’m good thanks,” I clipped. Then his knee bumped into my knee, which made me move closer to James, and that made me almost burst into flames. Flashes of being the main character in a ménage à trois man-sandwich between the two of them zipped through my brain. I might have even exhaled one of those breathy porno gasp-moans. Okay, there was no might about it—I did it. It was all breathy and raspy and every person at the table turned their heads to look at me.

I waved to all of them.

“Now that looks like a yummy man-sandwich,” Mandy teased from her seat with a wink.

I know, right? Thank God, I hadn’t drunk enough to say it aloud. But I sure was thinking it.

“Hey, Holt? She needs to loosen up and find someone who will teach her how to forget her cheating ass of an ex. Someone with a way bigger dick then Trager the Mailroom guy,” Mandy drunkenly yelled across the table. I loaded my mouth full of tortilla chips and salsa from the table so I didn’t have to say anything. But in my head, I was plotting one thousand and one ways to kill my best friend without getting caught. He laughed as if she didn’t just say the most humiliating thing ever, thank God.

“Are you mad at me?” His voice was husky and low, and extremely close to my ear.

I almost choked on the chips. Dying by chips, that’s so something I would do. I sighed and leaned closer to him so no one else would hear. “I’m more upset about your father never giving me, the lowly fact checker, a chance to speak.”

I felt his hand move to lean on the edge of my chair. The motion brought his thumb to my knee and I felt him touch me lightly. “The magazine is dying. We’re thinking of pulling it.” He crunched on a chip, and how in all that is good and holy did he make it look so sensual? It’s a chip. Annnnd, I think his thumb was making circles on my skin. Yep, there was inappropriate but very much wanted under the table knee touching action going down.

“I love the magazine. I loved your mother’s goals for it. It was snarky and fun and edgy. I’d hate to see it fail,” I said.

The thumb circling stopped and he reached for more chips. Some salsa got on his finger and he licked it off. I wanted to be a chip. I wanted to be his fingers. What was wrong with me?