Last Call Page 9

  I could easily skirt his question. Of course I’m lucky. Just getting a position with the FDA is something to be proud of. But that’s not what I was talking about.

  What is it about him that makes me feel so comfortable? I never willingly talk about my mistake, upon pain of death.

  “I’m pushing, sorry.”

  “No. I mean . . . it’s just not something I usually discuss,” I say honestly.

  But those sexy eyes stare back at me. Compelling me.

  I have no real reason to trust Hayden Tanner, but I do.

  “Four years ago, I was working on a research project for the FDA. My dad doesn’t work for them anymore, but I was able to pull him in as an advisor, which was basically the highlight of my career. My dad . . .”

  Where do I even start?

  “He’s the reason I entered this field, although he never pushed me. He’s brilliant. Anyway, the focus of the project was a drug that had been approved a few years earlier, one that reduced hospitalizations from heart failure. We were looking at its long-term efficacy and how its use could be expanded into other areas. The thing was, I didn’t work on the original case.”

  A familiar pit begins to form in my stomach.

  “Basically, I accepted a report from a colleague without double-checking his data on getting this drug into a whole new trial.”

  I remember that day so clearly. It seemed like such a little thing. I really hadn’t given it much thought. Except he’d lied. No one had looked at the numbers.

  “It ended up costing us more than a year’s delay. Not to mention I’d been up for a chair position, one that probably would have seen me in my current job two years earlier.”

  The minute I say “delay” Hayden’s eyes widen. Which reminds me of why I should not be here, telling him this story. But he doesn’t comment on that. Or talk about his own drug.

  “You’ve beaten yourself up over one bad decision for four years?”

  “One really bad decision,” I remind him. And then fess up. “And I may have been dating said colleague. When this position opened up in New York, I took it.”

  Did I have to transfer? Away from Maryland, away from my family? No. But I did, so here I am, determined not to make another similar mistake.

  “So an ex clouded your judgment. It happens. One mistake of many you will likely make over the course of your career. And do you want to know how I know that?”

  “How?”

  “Because you’re fucking human, Ada. We all make mistakes. How much data have you checked and rechecked and triple-checked since then to make up for it?”

  If he only knew.

  “See? You learned from it. That’s all that matters.”

  “Says the emperor of bad decisions.”

  He smirks, and good God, lips that full on a man should be illegal. “I’ve made some good ones too.”

  The devilish twinkle in his eyes scares me.

  “Such as?”

  Instead of answering, he comes around the counter toward me. Heart pounding, hair still wet and piled on top of my head, looking like a drowned rat, I’m sure, I try to prepare myself for the inevitable. He’s looking at me way too intimately for any misinterpretation.

  I stand without thinking.

  As always, the air between us charges up, the brief touches we’ve shared a precursor to what we both knew might happen here today. Pretending I don’t want this won’t do any good.

  I do want this. I want him. And so I don’t move a muscle. Instead, I breathe in the heady scent of the shirt I’m wearing—of him—and anticipate what it might feel like.

  “Such as this.”

  He reaches for me, and the last thing I think about doing is stopping him. I’ve imagined this so many times that his hand on my back doesn’t even feel real.

  What does feel real? Hayden’s lips as they crash onto mine. In less than a millisecond I’m opening for him, and at the first touch of his tongue, I curse myself.

  Not for being here.

  Not for making another bad decision.

  But for even thinking for a half a heartbeat this wasn’t going to happen.

  As his mouth slants over mine, I drink him in completely. I grab his arms, wanting him closer, and savor the feel of them beneath my fingertips.

  When he moans, I’m lost.

  He pulls me closer, his loose gym shorts doing little to hide his erection pressed up against me.

  Like a man dying of thirst, he pulls away and kisses my neck. His lips move lower, and lower still, until he’s just above my collarbone. A first kiss is always exciting, but there’s something different about this one. The need I feel is almost ferocious. As his lips trail another line of kisses back up my neck, which I’m freely giving him access to, my lips part. I want more. Need more.

  This thing between us is stronger than I realized. It’s more than just a foolish attraction or a silly obsession.

  It’s only when he’s about to kiss me on the lips again that he stops, suddenly.

  We’re locked together now, neither of us moving. I never want to move from this spot.

  “I promised you.”

  And I know exactly which promise he’s referring to. The one he made at the deli, when he said this was a totally innocent offer.

  I don’t doubt that he meant it at the time. That he planned to resist, just as I did.

  But we’ve obviously both been fooling ourselves.

  18

  Hayden

  I am such a jerk.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, stepping back. I’m not sure what came over me. One minute, I was a pillar. Keeping the island between us. Pretending Ada was any other friend I might have invited to my apartment to get out of the rain.

  Enjoying her company, as it were.

  When a dirty thought popped into my head, I shoved it to the side. When I imagined myself fisting her ponytail to further expose the expanse of her neck, which was way too covered up by my T-shirt, I very valiantly put it from my mind.

  But then she opened up to me. She told me about the incident that made her second-guess her judgment. It’s clear it still weighs on her, even though she’s achieved so much in spite of it. Of course, I suspect her father’s involvement is what troubles her most. Although she clearly cares about her career, it’s obvious she cares more about making her father proud. If he’s the kind of man I suspect he is, I’m sure she already has.

  Something snapped in me when I heard the raw emotion in her voice.

  I forgot to block out the dangerous thoughts.

  To put touching Ada out of my mind.

  So I did what I’ve been dying to do since that first day, and now we’re both paying the price.

  “I swear I didn’t intend to do that. I don’t make hollow promises.”

  Inserting more distance between us, I circle back around the island, putting it between us.

  “I know you didn’t, Hayden.”

  She takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling. I get it. I’m rattled too. Because even as it happened, I could sense that it was not a regular first kiss. Having Ada in my arms felt . . . good. Right.

  As if she belonged there.

  Which is utterly ridiculous. She’s the very last person in the world I belong with right now.

  “We are well and truly screwed, aren’t we?” She asks.

  Ada doesn’t sit back down on the stool, and I know she’s going to leave. Despite everything, I don’t want her to go. But I know better than to try to change her mind.

  “Before you go, maybe we should talk about it,” I say. “I don’t want you to leave here thinking more poorly of me than you already do.”

  Her brow furrows. “Why would you assume I think poorly of you?”

  Is she serious right now?

  “Hmm, let me see. I showed up late to our meeting, hit on you, put you in an awkward position by asking you to lunch, and then I pulled you in from the rain only to break my promise not to touch you.”

&n
bsp; But God, that kiss felt good. Better than I expected it would, and I had high expectations. Ada’s lips melded to mine perfectly, the touch of her tongue making me instantly hard.

  Ada doesn’t answer at first. Probably because I’m right. I’ve been an entitled shit, going after what I want for no better reason than because I want it.

  “I don’t quite see it that way,” she says, surprising me. She surprises me more when she sits back down. “I’ve been late to meetings before . . .”

  “Because you stayed out too late the night before, with someone you just met, knowing you had a morning meeting?”

  She winces. “Maybe not exactly for that reason.”

  When I try to interject again, to shove the hard truth in front of her, she stops me.

  “You hit on me, yes.” She shrugs. “Not a crime. And I was flattered.” Ada puts up a finger as if to ward off my response. “Despite the fact that, yes, you were a bit arrogant about it. What I mean to say is that I don’t buy the ‘I’m so awful’ shtick you’re throwing out there.”

  Two minutes ago, I wanted to toss her down onto my bed. Now, I just want to pull her toward me and not let go. It’s disarming, feeling like that. I’m never the one to break eye contact first, but I find myself looking away.

  When I glance back, Ada is still staring into my eyes. Pit bull? Nah. This woman is a lioness. Fierce, beautiful, and protective.

  I’m just not sure I can be protected from myself.

  Nor am I comfortable walking any farther down this path.

  “Either way, I am sorry.”

  She looks like she wants to say something more. Instead, Ada stands. Which is really for the best.

  “I’ll just go change out of these.”

  I stop her before she moves. “Your clothes are soaked. Keep them.”

  “And what? Give them to you Thursday in front of my team? Hello, Mr. Tanner,” she says, “before we tour your facility, here are the clothes I borrowed from you the other night at your apartment.”

  Smart-ass.

  “Yeah, probably not a good idea. But you should still keep them. Toss them if you’d like. Up to you.”

  I head into my bedroom, grab a gym bag, and put her wet clothes—hung up neatly in the bathroom—inside. When I’m finished, I head back out, approaching her with caution.

  “Here.”

  She takes the bag, careful not to actually make contact with my hand.

  “You want me to keep this? Bag and all?”

  I nod. Ada’s about to argue, but her eyes dart around the apartment. She doesn’t say anything, so she’s probably concluded (correctly) that I can afford to lose a bag and some clothing.

  “I’ll email you tomorrow, and we can set up Thursday from there,” I say.

  How does the woman manage to smell so good after a goddamn run?

  “Sounds good. Just send an address, I’ll coordinate the team, and we’ll set a meeting time.”

  “Depending on traffic, it’s about four hours.”

  “So we can meet at the plant at ten or so? Or is that too early?”

  “I’ll be there whenever you tell me to be there. If I’m late . . .” I can think of a lot of ways for Ada to punish me, but none of them are appropriate. We never really did address “this” head-on, but the understanding between us is clear.

  Back to business.

  As it should be.

  But as I walk Ada to the door and she thanks me for the dry clothes, I can tell she wants to say something. So do I.

  But what the hell is there to say?

  We’re treading in extremely dangerous territory, especially after tonight.

  After that kiss.

  After her revelation that she can see right through me.

  “I won’t be late,” I finish lamely. A promise, this time, I intend to keep.

  “You’re all set for tomorrow?” Enzo asks.

  I feel like a total piece of shit for not telling him about Ada—he doesn’t even know about our lunch last weekend—but since I don’t intend to repeat the colossal mistake I made three nights ago, I nod. I just don’t keep things from Enzo.

  “Yep.” I change the subject, reaching for my beer. “I do like this place.”

  “If the food is as good as last time, I think we should make this a regular thing.”

  Faint Sinatra music is being piped through the restaurant. So far, I haven’t heard anything else. The owner is clearly a fan.

  “You must feel right at home.”

  Enzo’s dad lives and breathes Frank Sinatra. Born in Italy, he came to the U.S. as a teen, starting off in New York before settling in Pennsylvania, where Enzo was raised.

  “I’ll have to bring my parents here for sure the next time they come visit.”

  The waitress brings our dinners, putting them down and staring at Enzo for a little longer than necessary. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “We’re good, thanks.”

  I shoot Enzo a look before I dig into my aglio e olio. “I think she’s into you.”

  He glances over to where the waitress has already disappeared into the back.

  “As if I have time for that.”

  Finished chewing, I tackle what I know is going to be a problem with him. “We’re in this for the long haul. You can find some time for a personal life, Enz.”

  Mouth full, he doesn’t answer.

  “I told you that you’d regret missing so much in college.”

  “I don’t regret anything. Including missing out on your party scene. I think you’re confusing me with you.”

  Sometimes I wonder how we became such good friends. “Well, I certainly have no regrets from college. And I don’t plan to have any in life either.”

  But a lump forms in my throat even as I say it. I know it’s not quite true.

  Enzo just smirks, but a second later his expression is serious again. “We’re so close I can feel it. Everything is shaping up with the formula for the wine. When the site visit’s out of the way, we can fully switch gears. Unless you see something up there that needs our attention.”

  “I just talked to Paul yesterday. Everything is on track.”

  Our plant manager is one of the best in the business. We snagged him from one of the largest chemical production facilities in the country.

  “You looked at all of the protocols for the visit?” he asks.

  “I did. And I don’t see any areas that should give us a problem. I’m sure we’ll pass the inspection with flying colors.”

  Enzo puts down his fork. “But?”

  He’s always had a sixth sense for a guilty conscience, or at least he’s always able to detect it when I have one. I can’t keep this from him. Lunch was one thing. It wasn’t supposed to ever happen again. But it did, and I feel like a dickhead for not spilling earlier.

  I take a swig of beer, preparing myself.

  “I don’t want you to worry . . .”

  “Not a good start, Hayden.”

  “You know the RPM on our case?”

  “Oh no, please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I had her cell phone number, and we were texting back and forth to coordinate things . . .”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  “No.” I shake my head, wanting to laugh out loud as “Something Stupid” starts to play. Sinatra and I are on the same page with this one. “I didn’t.”

  But I wanted to. Still do.

  “We were texting, innocently enough, and we ended up meeting for lunch on Sunday.”

  I’ll give it to him, Enzo has one hell of a poker face. “And you forgot to mention it until now?”

  “We both realized it was a bad idea. I didn’t want to concern you.”

  Enzo reaches for his wine glass. I can tell he thinks that’s the end of the story. Part of me wants to let him think it, but I told myself I’d be honest.

  “I think we both figured it was the end of the story. Until we met up, by chance,” I emphasize, “at the Corner Deli yester
day. I ran in for dinner after the lab and Ada was there. She was out running and got caught in the rain.”

  “Ada?”

  I wince.

  “I may have told her where I live, and she may have run by out of curiosity. Can you imagine the chances of us meeting up like that? Twice? First at the bar and then yesterday?”

  Enzo makes this what the fuck? face that I’m not a huge fan of at all. It’s totally different than my father’s you’re such a fuckup face, but it makes me uncomfortable for similar reasons.

  “I assume there’s a punchline to this bad joke?”

  Like tearing off a Band-Aid, I just go for it.

  “It was still pouring, so I invited her up to my apartment to eat dinner. And we kissed. But that’s it. Nothing more.”

  Enzo sighs loudly enough for the couple next to us to look over.

  “Enz, I swear to God this woman has some special power over me. I lose my mind whenever she’s around. But no one understands more than I do how bad it would be for us to get involved.”

  “An understatement,” he says, then takes a bite of food. He makes a sound. “Man, this is good.”

  I forge ahead. “If we’re caught, she could be reassigned, which would cause another delay.” Oddly, he seems neither concerned nor surprised. “And Ada is up for a grade-level promotion, so it wouldn’t be good for her either. We both understand the stakes.”

  Enzo wipes red sauce from the corner of his mouth.

  “That’s encouraging,” he says wryly. “Are you sure the site visit is a good idea?”

  I look him squarely in the eyes. “I know it’s not. But we’ll be surrounded by her team. And after this weekend, there’s really no reason for us to meet again in person.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m just confused. This isn’t like you at all.”

  That surprises me. “No? To fuck up years of hard work? I think it sounds just like me.”

  Judging by the look he gives me, Enzo clearly disagrees. “First of all, you’ve come a long way since college. And when you’re not actively trying to fit into your father’s narrative of your life, you manage to fuck up very little. Second, name one woman who’s rattled you like this. Ever.”