ELI

The flush on Rue’s cheeks reminded him of the hotel room— heated, pale skin, the rush of red on her chest as she arched against his hand, the half-moon of her teeth biting into his shoulder. He’d never doubted that she’d enjoyed what happened between them. But enjoyment and consent were very different things, and once she’d disappeared off the face of the earth, his worries had lain on more unsettling grounds: Had he crossed a boundary? Had he scared her?

Was she really done with him, even after that?

“That wasn’t a kiss,” she said. Eli wished her voice was as shaky as his hand, but the dark pink dusting her cheekbones was the only hint that she was affected. “It wasn’t anything at all.”

“Ask me again when you’re sober.”

“And you’ll say yes.”

It was a question without a question mark, and two weeks earlier he’d have said that he was a sure thing for her. But after hours of waiting for her to reply to a simple text, after the way she’d run out, leaving him in a mess of sweat and tangled sheets, he wasn’t so certain. She had a power over him that he couldn’t explain. Yielding more would be incredibly stupid.

But maybe Eli was stupid. He’d gotten more of a charge from one very tame hour with her than with anyone else before. He’d come like he was a fucking teenager, and his knees had shaken for twenty minutes after she’d left. He couldn’t think straight around her, and had no clue how to fix his dazed brain. This shit didn’t come about very often.

He took a step back, letting her sweatshirt fall back down. She was still obscenely beautiful to him. He should be inured by now, but the shape of her eyes, the bow of her lips, they struck him anew every time. Populated these new fantasies of his in ways that ranged from absolutely filthy to almost architectonically banal.

What if he took her out for drinks to discuss the merits of high-pressure processing versus thermal techniques, and his fingers brushed against hers across the table?

What if he did her laundry to silently thank her for some of the best sex of his life?

What if he tied her up, fucked her ass, and made her like it?

“Dude, I thought you were going to the bathroom.” They both turned. Tisha Fuli was standing at the door.

“I was.” Rue put some distance between herself and Eli. “I forgot.”

“You forgot that you needed to . . . ah.” Tisha began the curious process of looking back and forth between them. It lasted for many seconds and culminated in a dumbfounded “Oh. My. God.”

Rue’s shoulder slumped—a rare break in her perfect posture.

Eli’s eyebrow rose. “What?”

“You two hooked up, didn’t you?” Tisha asked. He glanced at Rue, who remained stoically silent. “First of all, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Secondly, he’s literally the reason I had to figure out my LinkedIn password, how is this a good idea? Thirdly, how was it?”

Rue sighed, shook her head, and walked out of the lab, leaving Eli and Tisha alone.

She was tall, maybe even taller than Rue. Smooth dark skin, classically beautiful. Far more put together than anyone had the right to be at the end of a workday. They’d never talked before, but they obviously knew who the other was, so he decided to spare them both the gimmick of introducing himself. “Do you two need a ride home?”

“Nah. I’m the designated driver tonight.” She smiled at him like they weren’t on opposite sides of a hostile takeover. “Anyway, it’s nice to finally make your acquaintance, Eli Killgore, Texas resident, born on June twenty-first—”

“I wondered who she’d sent that pic to.”

“It was moi. Tisha.” She pointed at herself with a flourish. “T-I-S-H-A, if you want to add my contact to your phone. I added yours, just in case someone finds Rue’s body in a ditch.”

“They’re more likely to find mine.”

“Nah. She’s a bit frosty, but she wouldn’t. She’ll just ghost you.” She scowled. “Not like, literally.”

“Right.”

“She won’t turn you into a ghost—”

“I got that.”

“Boy, if Florence finds out, she’s not gonna like this.” Tisha ran a hand down her straight hair. “How long ago was it? The consummation of your lust, I mean.”

“Two and a half weeks.” Not that he’d been counting.

“Sounds like the title of an erotic thriller. Wait—that’s long enough that Rue should have forgotten you ever existed. Why are you two still—ooh.” She grinned. “I see.”

“What?”

“You want more.”

He huffed. Nearly said, She wants more, too, like a fucking petulant child. But did she, or was it a handful of beers? “I’m not going to get more.”

“It’s very unlikely,” Tisha agreed sagely. “Rue doesn’t doubledip, and you are the current villain of her story. Although, we both know that Florence is going to win. Your douchebaggery will mostly be irrelevant then.”

He wondered what Florence had been telling her employees. Whether Tisha would have still been so sure of Florence’s victory if she knew why Eli was here and what he’d been doing for the past few hours.

The thought was a good reminder that he was here to get shit done—not to stare open-mouthed at Rue and moon over how good she smelled. “It was nice to meet you in person, Tisha, but I’d better go.”

“’Kay. And, like, no hard feelings, but feel free to never come back,” she said cheerfully.

“I’ll do my best.”

He couldn’t help his smile as he headed for the exit. When he heard the bathroom door open and shut, he was proud of himself for not turning around.

15

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?

RUE

When I stepped out of the bathroom stall, Tisha was there, nonchalantly leaning against one of the sinks, studying her perfectly lacquered nails. She didn’t bother looking up before asking, “Rue, what the hell are you doing?”

I said nothing and went to wash my hands, wondering if I was too drunk for this conversation.

“Listen, I love you, Rue. I’m not here to judge you, or to make you feel bad—because it’s clear that you already feel like shit. Otherwise you’d have told me what you were up to.”

My chest hurt. I tried to think of a response, and found none.

“Are you in love with him?”

“What?” My eyes met Tisha’s through the mirror. I tried to let out a derisive laugh, but the sound that came out of me was choked. “No.”

“Do you think you could be? If this continues?”

“I—no.”

She sighed. “I know it’s a ridiculous question. But this is so ridiculously out of character for you, I had to ask.”

“No. No, I’m not in love with him. I’ve met him a handful of times.” I turned around to face her directly. “It was once. The sex was good. And he’s . . . I don’t know. Easier for me to be around than most people. But it’s not—there’s nothing.”

Tisha examined me, a vertical line forming between her brows. “Listen, if you . . . if there’s something between you guys, something real, I’m going to be first in line to support that. My loyalty is to you before Florence, or Kline, or even my own damn sister. Not Bruce, though.” Her lips twitched. I exhaled a small laugh, too. “But if you’re seeing Eli just because he’s a good fuck, then you need to stop right now and find someone who’s going to be less of a problem. Because he and his buddies could still take away Florence’s lifework. And even if they don’t manage that, who knows how many people they’ve stolen from. Will steal from. Florence deserves better than this, but the most important thing is, you deserve better than this. Okay?”