Mad about the Banker Page 5

  This is the part where I should come clean—tell him about my sex toy business I’m trying to get off the ground and ask him if he’s interested in investing. It suddenly all feels too real and for the first time maybe ever, I clam up. How do I bring it up? Will he look at me and laugh in my face? Lucas’ words about Jasper ring like warning bells in my head.

  Then again, I think he might want to try a few out with me the way he talked earlier because there is one hundred percent without question something between us. Something different than anything I’m used to, and what if bringing up business fucks that up? On any other night, with any other guy I wouldn’t give a shit. But something… something in my gut tells me not to be so flippant where Jasper is concerned.

  “Did you have a car?” he asks, dragging me from my thoughts. I haven’t said a word this entire time. The man probably wonders if I’m a mute.

  I look around and realize that we’re at the opening of a parking garage. “No.” I shake my head.

  He glances up at the garage and then down to me. Letting my hand go, he scratches his fingers along the back of his head, seeming conflicted.

  “Is there a problem?” I ask. Shit. Did I read him all wrong? That almost never happens. If there’s two things I’m good at it’s knowing which men are the gay ones at a bar and which are the ones who want to fuck me. Maybe I’m losing my touch.

  Jasper exhales a long breath. “Coffee. How about some coffee?” he asks. The look in his eyes from earlier—the one that told me he wanted to be balls deep inside me until I was screaming his name—is a distant memory, replaced by a more resigned expression, but I’m not sure why.

  “Um, sure.”

  He nods, takes my hand in his again and walks us across the street to Starbucks. The place is practically dead since it’s almost eleven. You can tell the employees are annoyed by our presence since one of them is already mopping the floor and the other one is packing up the garbage. The two of them exchange a look. Yep, sorry, baristas, we’re going to be those people tonight.

  We walk up to the counter and the girl there smiles wide. Compared to the other two this girl looks so happy she has to be winning Employee of the Month from them each and every month. “Welcome to Starbucks,” she says in a peppy voice I thought was only reserved for that My Little Pony show my niece watches.

  “Can I have a grande black?” I ask.

  She punches the order in. “Name?”

  “Vivian Ward.”

  The girl smiles, probably assuming that is my actual name. I’m not old enough to remember Pretty Woman and I’m sure she’s not either. The only reason I know the name is because Tahlia has forced me to watch that movie five hundred times.

  I walk down the way while Jasper orders, waiting by the other end of the counter. He pays and meets me a minute later.

  “Did you want to sit?” he asks and I almost chuckle at the horrified look of the employee who’s mopping and silently praying I decline.

  “How about a walk around the city instead?”

  I don’t miss the way the high school kid’s shoulders relax when I respond. He probably has some hot date tonight. Don’t worry, dude, a cock blocker I am not.

  “I haven’t walked in this city in ages,” Jasper says with a smile that shows he’s excited.

  “Vivian Ward,” the barista calls out, and places my drink on the counter.

  I move to the milk and sugar, but Jasper is right next to me.

  “So, where is that name from?” he asks, his cologne overriding all other senses.

  “You don’t know?” I ask, stirring my milk into the cup.

  He shrugs and a second later, the barista calls out, “Edward Lewis.” Jasper’s eyes widen and the usual full of fun smile emerges.

  I laugh, shaking my head, thinking that he might just be someone who can compete with me.

  After he makes his coffee the way he wants it, we file out the door and hear the snap of the lock sliding into place a second after it closes behind us.

  Jasper checks the door. “No wonder we were getting the evil eye, they must close at eleven.”

  I chuckle. “I caught on when the guy mopping was crossing his fingers after you asked if I wanted to sit.”

  We walk a few paces down the sidewalk before Jasper says anything else. “I remember I worked at this sub shop in high school and kids would come in five minutes before close on purpose so we’d have to take all the deli meat back out and then clean up all over again.” The annoyance rings through in his voice.

  “I worked at a dry cleaner in high school. My hours were good, but some of the clothes…” I do a full-body shiver and he laughs while nodding. “I still remember reaching in to check the pockets of one man’s suit and pulling out a condom. Used.”

  “Oh, God,” he says with a look of disgust and covers his mouth.

  “Yeah, that’s not something you easily forget.”

  “Oh, high school jobs. They did suck.”

  We walk a few blocks, reminiscing about how awful high school was. Finally, we reach the Pier and his hand slides into mine. The warmth from his skin radiates up my arm. We stop at the end of the Pier and I take a seat on the bench there.

  I cross my legs and fidget a bit. Now would be the time I should bring up the business, but part of me—a big part—wants to prolong whatever this is that’s happening between us.

  He sits down on the bench beside me, his coffee cup clasped in his hands, concentrating on his white lid instead of the bay.

  Fuck it. It’s now or never, as they say. I inhale a deep breath and open my mouth to speak, but Jasper beats me to it.

  “I have a confession.”

  “I’m not a priest,” I joke and he glances over at me, chuckling while he does.

  “You are something rare though.” He says the words I’ve heard many times, but he doesn’t have that angry or annoyed look that normally accompanies them. His voice almost sounds wistful, as if he enjoys that about me.

  “That’s what everyone says.” I shrug, trying to play it off.

  He shakes his head. “I think it’s what I like about you.”

  My heart does some foreign flip thing in my chest. What the hell, heart? What’s that about?

  “Usually it’s what people don’t like about me,” I admit. I manage not to let any of the hurt I feel deep down show in my voice. There’s nothing that turns a guy off faster than baggage—or babies.

  “Can I be honest?” he asks. I nod and he shifts in his seat so he faces me. “I want nothing more than to take you to my condo and fuck you with my tongue, my fingers and my cock until your voice gives out from screaming my name.”

  Whoa.

  I blink.

  And I blink again.

  “Oh,” is my über-intelligent response.

  Meanwhile wetness pools between my thighs and my nipples peak beneath my bra because the truth is I want that too. So bad. More than I want to pitch my business to him. At least in this moment.

  There’s something enticingly erotic about a man as put together and sophisticated as Jasper saying dirty, filthy things to me.

  “But I’m not going to,” he adds—completely serious.

  If I was a cartoon character a little sad face emoji would be floating above my head right now. Jasper just stuck a pin in the balloon that held all my pent-up sexual energy.

  “Why?” I sip my coffee so that my lips have something to do other than frown.

  “Because I don’t want this to be over.” His eyes dance with sincerity and a dash of mischief.

  “Why do you assume it would be over if you did everything you just told me you want to?” I tilt my head, ready and waiting for him to typecast me. Good luck with that. My family has been psychoanalyzing me for years and still haven’t figured me out.

  “In my line of work, I have to be able to read people. In a short amount of time. Usually in less than half an hour. If I predict wrong, they lose and I lose. I don’t like to lose, Lennon.” He’s morphed
into this intense, serious guy, all that playfulness from earlier now hidden well below Earth’s crust.

  “Okay. I’m not sure what that has to do with me.” This is the part where I should ask what he does because I’m not supposed to know.

  “You’d probably come back to my condo, we’d fuck, you’d show me a few tricks—and I have no doubt they’d be spectacular—but it would be one and done. I think you probably avoid seconds and I think after having you I’d feel like a starving man if you wouldn’t let me be a repeat offender.”

  Most girls probably want flowery words and heartfelt emotion, but Jasper is speaking my native tongue. Who would’ve guessed that he’s a sweet talker in his own way?

  “So, you think I’m easy?” I counter.

  He shakes his head. “I think you’re free.”

  “With my body?”

  He chuckles. “Okay, let me start this over.”

  His hand grips the back of his neck again before he places his coffee at his feet. Next, he takes mine and places it beside to his. His eyes lock with mine and his large hand moves up to cup my cheek. Before I have a chance to realize his intentions, his lips are lightly brushing along mine. Then his tongue slides between my parting lips, gliding along mine. Jasper brings his other hand to my hip, locking me into place. His fingers rub along my bare skin right above my waistline and goose bumps race up my spine.

  I knew he’d be an amazing kisser, but it’s the need I feel pulsing out of him that sets me aflame. A groan rises from his throat when the craving becomes too much and his urgent hands singe my skin with want until he seems to purposefully calm them.

  He wants me and doesn’t want me at the same time.

  Jasper is totally muffin’ bluffin’ me.

  Slowly, his tongue leaves my mouth and I wish it wouldn’t end. My hip grows cold when he pulls away and I want to yank him back to me after he creates some distance between us again. Then he picks up my coffee, handing it to me and then grabs his own, sipping it.

  What the hell just happened?

  “Do you understand?” he asks.

  “I understand that you just soaked my panties and you aren’t going to finish the job. I understand that you’re a pussy tease.” So maybe I’m a little bitter. Even if I shouldn’t be because wasn’t I telling myself a few minutes ago that something like this could not happen?

  “I barely know you, yet you’re the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met. Believe me, Lennon, I want nothing more than to have you come apart underneath me, but I know once won’t be enough. So I’m going to do something I haven’t done since college.”

  “I’m guessing it’s not tying me up and flogging me,” I deadpan.

  His flirtatious smile emerges. “Will you go out with me next week? On a date?”

  My breath hitches and my heart picks up speed. I’m not sure I’ve felt this way since Jimmy Twendle asked me to homecoming my freshman year. For the first time in a long time, I’m excited to not be sleeping with someone. Scratch that. For the first time in my adult life.

  “I’d love to,” I say and yep, if we were in a cartoon right now I’d have big heart eyeballs because I’m looking over at him like he’s the only thing I see.

  He smiles and then his phone rings from his pocket. Pulling it out, he holds up a finger to me. “One sec.” He stands and as he’s walking away, he answers. “Jasper Banks.”

  As soon as there’s some distance between us, it hits me like a hammer to a nail—I’m not supposed to date him. My entire plan just flew off the edge of the pier, sinking to the depths of the ocean.

  How did he make me forget that I don’t want him to spend money on a date, I want him to spend money on dildos?

  7

  I ring the doorbell to my brother Kurt’s house and hear the little footsteps getting closer before the door swings wide open.

  “Auntie Lennon!” My niece Katie jumps in my arms and my nephew Ethan, not far behind, clamps onto my leg.

  “What’s up, you two?” I laugh and limp into the house and let Katie slide down my legs once I’m in the foyer.

  From here I can already hear the commotion in the kitchen—the clanking of dishes and silverware, the arguing about arrangements.

  Katie quickly wraps herself around my other leg and soon I’m teetering back and forth as I make my way toward the noise.

  “Has anyone seen Katie and Ethan?” I ask when I reach the kitchen.

  Kurt glances down at my ankles, laughing. “Man, are you pregnant? Because your cankles are bigger than Tina’s when she delivered.”

  I stand there and wait for it to happen. Not a second later, Tina comes by and hits him across the head.

  “I’m kidding,” he says, following her into the dining room.

  As those two start bickering, Jacob rushes over and grabs Ethan off my leg and tips him upside down, swaying him like a pendulum. Ethan squeals.

  “Katie, want some cookies?” my mom asks and Katie jumps off me and onto a stool by my mom at the breakfast bar.

  I take the tour and say hello to all the family members present here today trying to make my dad’s retirement party from the police department the best ever. I finish up with my mom.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say and kiss the top of her head since she’s shrinking in her older age.

  “Lennon, sweetie.” She pats my hand, clasped to her upper arm, until she notices my t-shirt that says, ‘I ENJOY LONG WALKS TO THE BAR.’ “Nice of you to dress up for us.”

  I roll my eyes but she misses it because Katie grabs her attention away, wanting her to pour her some milk, so I snatch a cookie and sit down at the table.

  My family doesn’t make me feel like an outcast, but I’m misunderstood at the very least, the black sheep at the worst. The circle to the square. I’m the wacky family member no one likes to admit they have who’s always up to something. In short, though I love my family, I just never really fit in with them growing up.

  Besides Jacob, my twin, there’s Kurt, who is ten years older than me and married to his college sweetheart, Tina. Mark, my other brother, is four years older than me and he’s been married to his high school sweetheart since eighteen. Kurt and Mark followed in my dad’s footsteps as police officers and both of their wives stay at home. None of them have a ton of money, but they’re rich in love, so if I was ever going to consider a settled-down life, my brothers and my parents are the poster people to show it really can work.

  “What did you do last night?” I ask Jacob, taking a bite of the cookie. “Or more who did you do?”

  My mom swiftly smacks me in the head. It’s a family thing.

  “Sorry.”

  Jacob looks over the rim of his laptop and rolls his eyes.

  “I think Megan’s cute,” I say, knowing what will happen next.

  Jacob shoots me a look and I grin.

  “Megan?” My mom bites on the piece of cookie crumb I gave her, leaving Katie on the stool and making her way over to the table.

  Ethan runs up and grabs a cookie off Katie’s plate before running away. She’s whining when Tina comes back into the kitchen.

  “Oh, stop it, you two,” Tina says, taking the rest of the cookies away and placing them by the sink.

  This is how chaotic life in this family is and all members aren’t even present and accounted for.

  “Who is this Megan, Jacob?” my mom asks, nudging my feet off the free chair.

  Jacob gives me another look like he’s going to kill me, but this is payback for him not giving me Jasper’s number. If he had, maybe I wouldn’t be as conflicted as I am right now.

  “She works with me.” He brushes the question off, but anyone can tell his cheeks are getting pink.

  “Why are you blushing?” Kurt points out and Jacob buries his head back in the computer.

  “I’m not. I have to work on this proposal.” He types away in quick succession while my mom eyes him for an extra-long beat just to make sure he’s aware that she knows something’s up. No doubt she’l
l be showing up at the bank Monday morning. Somehow, I manage to suppress my internal chuckle.

  “It’s not my proposal, is it?” I ask in a hushed whisper so no one will overhear.

  Jacob rolls his eyes again before concentrating back on the screen.

  “What proposal?” my mom asks.

  Damn it. My mom always did have the uncanny ability to overhear everything I didn’t want her to.

  Ethan stands below her, shaking an orange in her face, so she takes it and starts peeling it.

  “For my company,” I say.

  Up until this point, all my family knows is that I have a new venture I’m excited about. Jacob is the only one who knows the nature of the business and although I know any of the women in my family would fall in love with my products, I’m not sure I’m ready for that conversation.

  Jacob looks up, leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t know, Mom?”

  Oh, so now he has time to focus on the family conversation?

  Her head snaps up from where she’s peeling the orange with her hands and she focuses her attention on me. “The tattoo parlor?” she asks. “Are you expanding?”

  Her eyes almost light up because at least that would be something. Telling people that her daughter is a tattoo artist is about as fulfilling as saying your kid’s a musician for a living.

  “Nope.” Jacob pops the ‘p’ and I narrow my eyes because I know he’s about to out me.

  Can’t say I blame him though. I’ve already done the same to him and I did put the grenade in his hand. He just has to pull the pin.

  Ethan stands next to my mom, gaze fixated on the orange, bouncing on his feet while he waits.

  “Let’s go in the other room.” I motion to the living room and my mom glances down to Ethan.

  “Katie and Ethan, go upstairs and watch a movie,” she orders. She quickly finishes peeling the orange and passes it to my nephew. Both kids whine but follow their grandma’s orders, because you don’t cross my mom. At least when you’re seven and four you don’t. Once you’re my age, you like to test the invisible fence and see if the shock is as painful as you remember. Hell, I’ve been testing my pain threshold since I was eight. Maybe Katie will take after me and she can be the one constantly being told to calm down and to keep her dreams based in reality.