Sex Addict (29 page)

“Yeah, okay, but what about the feelings part?”

“His or yours?”

Reagan pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side. “Really?”

“Yes, really. What do you want out of this? You’ve never been a relationship kind of girl since I’ve known you, but I get the feeling this guy’s different no matter what kind of crazy shit he’s done. Or possibly
not
done, as it were. So I guess the question is, are you willing to wash your hands of him for good, or do you want to have this guy on his knees begging you to be with him?”

“He is good on his knees…” Reagan said.
Am I fucking crazy for wanting to give him another shot? Probably. Definitely.
 

“Don’t make it easy on him, though. Didn’t you say you did some kind of hidden messages or something?”

“Mhmm. On coffee cups. Wait,” she said, an idea forming in her head.
Yes, that’s perfect.

Crystal gave an approving nod. “I think you’re getting it. Go have fun with him. And if a chance for more comes up…”

With a grin, Reagan handed her credit card to the waiter and sat back against the booth, feeling twinges of excitement and apprehension. Maybe things had gotten too serious. Maybe she’d gotten too attached. That part wasn’t going away, but it was time to remember the part of her and Evan’s relationship that she loved. The fun, flirty, carefree side that reminded her of the way they’d been once, long ago.
 

And then she felt it. His stare.
 

Whipping around in the booth, she scanned the room until his familiar hazel eyes met hers. He was standing at the hostess station with Bill, one of his eyebrows raised in surprise.
 

Oh my God.

“What’s wrong?” Crystal asked when she jerked back into the booth.
 

Dreading the inevitable run-in with Evan and Crystal, she groaned, wanting to bang her head against the table. What were the odds they’d all be having lunch in the same place? When it came to Evan, there had to be some kind of tracking device, because he was everywhere.
 

“Fuck,” she said. “Please promise not to make a scene.”

“Why would I make a scene?”

“Just promise.”

“What the hell am I promising for?” Crystal leaned out of the booth and looked in the direction of the front door. “Oh, there’s Bill. Why would I make a scene about—” She stopped as her jaw took another dive for the table. “Oh holy Jesus, who’s that with him?”

When Reagan didn’t say anything, choosing instead to hide her face in her hands, Crystal hit the table with her palm and shrieked.
 

“That is not who I think it is. Please, please tell me that’s not Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.”

“It might be,” Reagan said meekly.
 

“Wow.” Crystal’s eyes were wide and still staring in Evan’s direction. “Now it all makes fucking sense.”

* * *

THE ENTIRE TRIP over in the cab, Evan had tried to get Reagan off his mind. Bill had been a good distraction, talking to him about everything from the cool down in the weather that made his bad leg act up, to, surprisingly, his mother.

He always forgot Bill had worked with his parents back in the day, although that wasn’t much of a shock. Anything to do with his parents he tended to block out of his mind for self-preservation purposes. But when Bill had asked him how his mom was doing, in an off-the-cuff sort of way, Evan felt almost ashamed that he hadn’t been able to answer.
 

God
, there was no reason he should have to feel anything toward the two who had ruined his childhood, but the fond smile that had crossed Bill’s mouth made Evan wonder for a moment if maybe the woman that his boss remembered was still somewhere inside the one sitting in prison.

Maybe I should go and see her,
he thought as he followed Bill through the doors of Diablos and stopped by the hostess station.
 

He scanned the restaurant trying to spot the missing hostess, and as his eyes tracked over the bustling tables, he caught sight of a familiar now-brunette, whose scorching brown eyes he’d been trying to forget since he’d last seen them spitting fire and sass at him.

Are you kidding me
, he thought as Reagan fucking Spencer stared back at him. Apparently the universe had a goddamn sense of humor when it came to his life, because no matter how hard he tried to steer it in one direction, it always ended up on the detour back to Let’s-fuck-with-Evan-ville.
 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” a perky redhead greeted them.
 

Evan tore his eyes away from Reagan just as she seemed to get her own jolt of what-the-fuck medicine, and then he turned to Bill, who, of course, was none the wiser.

“Well, hello, young lady,” Bill greeted, jovial as always.

“Is it just the two of you today?”

“Yes, yes, just us two.”

“Okay then, if you’ll just follow me, I’ll take you to your seats.”

Evan watched her snatch up a couple of menus and hoped like hell she wasn’t about to walk them toward—
yeah, of course she was
—Reagan.

“Bill,” he whispered under his breath, and when his boss looked over his shoulder at him as if to say,
What?
Evan found himself stuck for words. What was he going to say?
Reagan’s here and I don’t want to sit next to her,
like some kind of stupid adolescent kid.
 

“Don’t worry,” he mumbled, and kicked his own ass for being a fucking idiot.

No, it was time to man up. He could do this. If Reagan Spencer could sit in a busy downtown restaurant with no fucking panties on, then he could damn well walk by her like he didn’t remember her stuffing them into her briefcase.
 

As he neared the booth he’d seen her slide back into, he noticed the second occupant at Reagan’s table staring up at him with wide eyes and a shock of auburn curls. She had a light sprinkling of freckles on her pert nose, and as he got closer he saw her eyes dare to trail down from his face to his chest—and then they went lower.

Bill was just about at the booth when Reagan slid out of her seat and looked Evan dead-on. He had to give her credit—she sure as hell didn’t back down from a challenge. And that feisty side of her appealed to him more than he’d ever imagined.

“Bill,” she said, as she ran her hands down her thighs, and Evan almost groaned at the reminder of how they’d looked when he’d had her bent over the table earlier.
Creamy, bare and—
“Evan. How unexpected to see you both here.”

Bill came to a stop, and a wide smile lit up his face. “Reagan. Well, well, this is a coincidence. Of all the places in a city as large as this, we chose the same one.”

She smiled at the both of them, but when her eyes lingered on him, Evan swore a mischievous spark entered them. “Yes it is, isn’t it. But this seems to happen a lot with me and Evan.”

Bill chuckled. “Does it?”

“Yes,” Reagan replied. “We may come at different times but usually end up at the same place.”

Evan felt his cock react to Reagan’s words as if she’d run her tongue over it.
What kind of game is she playing?
 

“Well, I have to admit today’s decision was purely mine. I had a craving for some queso.”

Reagan laughed, but Evan heard the strain behind it. She might have been trying to project Miss Cool and Calm, but it was clear to him she was anything but. And
that
sparked the devil inside him to come out and play.

He glanced down at Reagan’s friend, who was biting her bottom lip as if trying to keep her mouth shut, and Evan wondered just how much she knew about him. Because it was obvious she knew something.

“Would you like to join us for lunch, Reagan?” he asked, returning his eyes to her.
 

Her friend lost it then, and the laugh that she’d been attempting to hide turned into a cough instead.
Oh yeah, she knows fucking everything.

“I would love to stay,” Crystal began, but a quick glare from Reagan shut her up real fast.
 

Reagan turned around and smiled at Bill. “We actually just finished, and I’ve got to get back to work, so you two enjoy.”

“That’s a shame,” Evan said, winking at Crystal. The woman’s brow rose and she shook her head before sliding out of the booth.
 

“It is a damn shame,” she told him when she stood up. Then she held out her hand. “Crystal Smith.”

“Evan James.” She had a firm grip, and it was instantly obvious that Reagan surrounded herself with women as headstrong as she was. No doubt they’d had quite the conversation now, if the mirth in her eyes was any indication.
 

When he let go, Reagan wrapped her arm through Crystal’s. “See you at the office,” she said, and pulled her friend away before the woman could say anything else.
 

Anything incriminating, I’d wager.

As Bill slid into an empty booth, Evan took a seat on the other side. Just as they picked up their menus, a loud “Sweet motherfucker!” could be heard from the front entrance. Evan leaned out to see what the commotion was about, only to notice Reagan pushing her friend out the door.
 

With a chuckle, Bill shook his head and eyed the menu. “You sure do know how to make a first impression, son.”

Evan scanned the menu and felt his lips twitch.
Yeah
, and maybe, if he were being honest, some part of him was hoping to make a lasting one with Ms. Spencer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Tuesday

REAGAN SMILED TO herself the following morning as she waited in the elevator, balancing a tray of coffee cups in her hand. She’d decided to take Crystal’s advice and lighten things up a bit. So she’d kind of fallen for a guy she used to know. Big deal. And so what if he’d given her the most earth-shattering orgasms ever. So did her vibrator. Sometimes.

Deciding to call a truce, she’d stopped at Starbucks and made sure she had her permanent marker handy. Which was the reason for her smile.
 

When the elevator doors opened, she waved at Amy and headed straight for Evan’s office. The light was already on, and she peered around the corner. Leaning against the wall, she watched him silently. He was sitting at his desk with the work phone to his ear and jotting something down in a notebook. His jacket was already off, the sleeves of his white button-up rolled halfway up his tanned, muscular arms.
 

Just another guy,
Reagan thought.
Just another supremely gorgeous human. Nothing special there.

Evan hung up the phone and tossed his pen on the desk. “Can I help you, Reagan?” he asked, swiveling in his chair to face her, his eyes meeting hers.
 

“How did you know I was here?” she asked as she pushed away from the wall and entered his office. Her hips might’ve been swaying more than usual, but that wasn’t on purpose.
Riiiight.

“I can always feel your eyes on me.”
 

Reagan lifted an eyebrow and tried not to read too much into that.
 

“That and I could smell you.” He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head before winking at her.

She stopped in her tracks. “By smell me, I hope you mean this delicious coffee I brought you.”

“Oh, is that for me?” Evan reached across the desk for his cup, but Reagan held the tray out up high.
 

“On second thought, Amy looked a little thirsty this morning.”
 

As she turned on her heel to leave, Evan said, “I meant that as a compliment, you know. You always smell so fucking delicious.”

When she swiveled back to face him, he leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “You really should stop wearing that. It could attract unwanted attention.”

“So sweet of you to be concerned about my well-being.”

“I wasn’t. I was concerned for mine.”
 

Charming motherfucker. Get out. Get out now.

Reagan placed the steaming cup of coffee on his desk. “Have a good day, Mr. James.” As she walked out of the office, she couldn’t stop her damn hips from swaying again. She’d blame it on the tight fit of the pencil skirt she wore, but really, it was because his eyes were on her.
 

She could feel them.

* * *

EVAN COULDN’T TEAR his eyes away from Reagan’s pert ass as it swished its way out of his office.
Hot damn, she has one spectacular rear end.
And he should know; he’d seen it bent over and naked on more than one occasion. But this morning he couldn’t help but think the swaying of Reagan’s hips, and the coffee she’d deposited on his desk, held a lot more meaning than a flirtatious morning hello.

It felt as if she was calling a truce. Waving a white flag and saying everything was okay between them after the conference room incident, not to mention the shitstorm that had led up to that. She seemed willing to let go of what had transpired between them, and if she could be mature enough not to hold a grudge, then so could he.

Lifting the coffee cup to his lips, he sat back in his chair and took a careful sip. The bitter taste of the darkest possible roast hit his tongue. Perfection. When he placed the coffee cup back down on the desk, the sleeve slipped to the bottom of the cup. And there, in permanent marker, bold as you please, were the words: