Devilishly Wicked (6 page)

Tristan thanked the waitress again and she finally left, probably heading back to the kitchen to tell the cook he needed to get a rush on those sandwiches and onion rings.

“She’s just trying to get your attention,” Georgia said, reaching for her own beer.

His dark brows jutted together as he frowned.

“What?” she asked.

“Trying too hard,” he stated.

“She’s actually quite pretty,” Georgia said.

Was she really trying to convince him to be interested in the rude, pushy waitress? That idea pissed him off—for a reason he didn’t entirely understand.

“The hostess is pretty, too,” Georgia added. “And she was flirting with you as well.”

She was trying to get him interested in one of the restaurant staff. Someone other than her. Well, he wasn’t going to be that easily distracted.

He returned his attention to Georgia and shrugged. “I guess I didn’t really notice. I’m preoccupied with other company.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then to his surprise she laughed.

He smiled, but gave her a quizzical look. “What’s so funny?”

“I appreciate your kindness in trying to make me feel special, but we both know I’m not really your type, so there is no need to play that game with me. I’d totally understand if you wanted to get a number or two while you are here. After all, they’re lining up to give them to you.”

She jerked her head in the direction of the hostess podium. Several female staffers and even one male employee, covertly, or not so covertly, looked in their direction. They almost comically tried to look busy when they realized Tristan had noticed them.

Almost comical, but he wasn’t amused by Georgia’s dismissal. He was certain she had been jealous of the hostess, but now, he didn’t feel that energy. He didn’t even feel much of her usual desire for him. Why? What was going on here?

“All day you’ve been insisting you know my style,” he said, feeling very annoyed. This lunch was not going as he’d envisioned. “So you should know that humility is definitely
not
my style. That being said, you asked me a question, and I told you the truth. I didn’t really notice those other women’s reactions. Actually, I did notice, but I’m not interested.”

Georgia nodded, immediately looking down again, clearly intimidated by his harsh reaction. Which wasn’t really the response he’d wanted either. Honestly, he’d wanted to spend the afternoon with the woman who’d been driving him to distraction from the very moment she’d teetered into his office on a pair of her ridiculous platform heels.

Was that too much to ask? To have a break from demon rebellions, insubordinate employees, talking canines, and stress to simply enjoy the company of a woman he found so damned attractive he couldn’t think straight?

He started to open his mouth, to tell her just that, when he realized, while he did consider her his right-hand woman, she was still a mere mortal, unaware of the war waging around her. If Peaches was reluctant to flirt with him now, imagine if she knew the truth?

The waitress arrived with their food, but this time she didn’t hang around. Maybe it was because she was busy, or maybe because she’d finally gotten the hint. Either way, Tristan was glad to be alone with Georgia.

He was determined to feel his Peaches’ attraction again. It couldn’t really be gone.

“I can tell you one thing that’s very much my style,” he said, reaching for the bottle of ketchup as he talked. “A sexy woman in thigh-high stockings.”

She looked up from the pile of food in front of her. She didn’t say anything as he poured ketchup beside the mound of fries. He set the bottle down, and then sucked a little excess of the red condiment from his index finger.

She watched the action, her dark eyes huge behind her frames.

Suddenly, he felt her desire like a rush of hot air from a radiator. Her scent filled his nostrils, even blotting out the smells of their delicious food.

He smiled smugly. Oh, she could pretend to not want him. She could pretend she didn’t care if he wanted someone else. But only for so long.

He didn’t ponder too closely why a sense of relief mingled with his smugness.

“Would you like me to tell you what I like to do to a woman in thigh-high stockings?”

Georgia immediately shook her head, and it was his turn to laugh.

G
eorgia shifted in her seat, wishing she wasn’t so damned obvious. She felt like she might as well be naked, sitting across from her boss.

She was so stupidly attracted to him, and she knew she wasn’t hiding it. She’d tried. She had even tried to draw his attention to the other women here. But he wasn’t having any of it.

He enjoyed messing with her too much.

And it always worked. His suggestive words had her thoroughly aroused. Georgia shifted again, feeling the dampness between her thighs. But she forced herself to ignore that and to focus on her food. The sooner they ate, the sooner she could get away from this evilly seductive man.

“Tasty, huh?” he said as she took a bite of her sandwich. She couldn’t answer right away with her mouth full, so he waited for her to finish chewing, his green eyes locked on her lips.

Even that seemed designed to be suggestive, flirty.

Finally, she swallowed and wiped her lips with her paper napkin.

“You love to mess with me, don’t you?”

He shot her an innocent look. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she took another drink of beer.

He chuckled, damn him. It was far too easy for him to make her react. Far too easy.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said after she set down her glass. “But I do love how easily you get flustered by my attention.”

Well, that was pretty honest, she realized.

He took a sip of his own beer.

“Actually, I do enjoy messing with you. It amuses me very much,” he said, surprising her again with his honesty. “But I suppose it is inappropriate for an employer to flirt with an employee.”

“Yes,” she said flatly, “it is. It’s actually called sexual harassment.”

Tristan leaned back in his seat and regarded her seriously. “I’m hoping that isn’t actually a threat, Georgia.”

Georgia squirmed a little under his stern gaze. It hadn’t been a threat. The truth was she hadn’t even thought before she’d said it. She’d actually been thinking more about the fact that everything she’d believed about his attention was true. He did find amusement in her reaction to him. Just as she’d always thought. She’d been absolutely right: he was entertaining himself with her silly reactions to him. Her pathetically transparent reactions.

And that hurt a little. Or maybe a lot.

But hey, what wouldn’t be funny about a woman like her blushing and fidgeting under his flirty attention, especially when she knew he’d never really be interested in her? She was sure it would be quite an entertaining joke, if she wasn’t the butt of it.

But she managed to push her wounded ego aside and meet his gaze.

“No, it wasn’t a threat.”

Pursuing a lawsuit had never crossed her mind, to be honest. After all, she didn’t think she’d win it. Tristan McIntyre and
HOT!
wielded too much power. And who would believe someone as powerful and drop-dead gorgeous as Tristan would sexually harass
her
? Especially surrounded by the plethora of beautiful women he was. Some of the world’s most beautiful women.

And he was making lascivious comments to his size fourteen, goth/rockabilly personal assistant in her wacky framed glasses and vintage store clothing? No one would buy that.

But more than that, she’d never considered the idea of sexual harassment, because she was too busy not making waves. Because she needed this job. Period. She couldn’t hope to walk into any other magazine or periodical and start at the salary she was making at
HOT!
And she needed every dime of that money. Otherwise, she would have quit on her own, long before Tristan became her boss.

Tristan regarded her for a moment more, and then nodded. “Good. I’m glad we don’t have a problem.”

He returned his attention to his food.

She did the same, although not with the same enthusiasm he did. She wished she could just merrily eat her lunch, feeling that everything was hunky dory. Instead, she was feeling—she was feeling hurt. Talk about a stupid reaction.

“So what do you think?”

She blinked up at him. “What do I think?”

He smiled, just a straightforward, non-flirty smile, but her damned heart did a cartwheel in her chest.

“About the food?”

“Oh.” She forced a polite smile. “It’s very good.”

In truth, she couldn’t have told him what anything tasted like. Nor could she really tell anyone what Tristan talked about for the remainder of the lunch. Every now and then, she’d pick up something about the redecorating of the
HOT!
offices, or other comments about work, but through it all, Georgia just nodded, pretended to listen, picked at her food, and stewed.

The more she thought about it, the more it really chapped her ass that he could simply say, “Oh, yes, I totally like messing with you—it amuses me,” and expect her to have no reaction.

Oh, he expected her to react to his flirty words and naughty smiles, but telling her that he was toying with her—now that she was just supposed to accept with no response at all.

“Excuse me.”

Georgia snapped out of her bitter reverie as Tristan stood.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” he told her. “If the waitress comes back, ask for the check.”

She nodded, although she irrationally wanted to snap at him and tell him to get the check himself. Which she knew would have been a silly response, but she was annoyed.

She watched as he walked across the room. Several female heads turned as he passed. The hostess even hurried over to ask him if she could help him with anything. He shook his head and pointed toward the restroom sign, but not without bestowing one of his charming smiles on the young woman.

More irritation filled Georgia.

The waitress appeared, looking around expectantly for Tristan. Of course.

“We’ll take the check,” Georgia told her, instantly regretting her harsh tone. It wasn’t this girl’s fault that Tristan McIntyre was insanely attractive and he knew it.

Another few minutes passed and Tristan stepped out of the bathroom. Again, appreciative female gazes were on him, but he simply strode back to the table, unaware of their looks. Or at least not acknowledging them.

“Did the waitress come by?”

Georgia nodded.

He slipped back into his seat, and then frowned at her plate.

“You didn’t eat much. Is something wrong?”

Before she could catch herself, she snapped, “What? Does something have to be wrong for the chubby girl not to finish her lunch?”

Tristan frowned, although his green eyes widened. He was surprised and confused.

And she didn’t blame him. She certainly had never spoken to him that way before. She hadn’t dared, so what had gotten into her now?

But the waitress came up with their bill, not giving Tristan a chance to ask Georgia what the hell was wrong with her. But Georgia was sure this was just a small reprieve before that question came.

Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut? What was the point of acting like a silly, petulant child?

Tristan glanced at the check and handed the waitress a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

The waitress beamed. She certainly didn’t think he was a jerk, which somehow made Georgia feel even more stupid.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked Georgia, his tone calm with no hint of confusion or anger.

She nodded, sliding out from the booth. They both walked to the car, although this time his hand wasn’t on the small of her back, waiting to steady her as she picked her way over the cracked asphalt.

But he did open the car door for her, and she slipped onto the leather seat. She waited nervously as he walked around the car and got inside, his large form seeming to eat up all the space in the car.

He didn’t speak as he turned the key and the car purred to life. Nor did he say anything as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed back in the direction of
HOT!

The silence ate at her, making her more and more uncomfortable, and when they finally reached the parking garage of the
HOT!
building, Georgia couldn’t take it anymore.

As Tristan parked in his reserved parking place, she turned to him, nervously blurting out, “I’m sorry for being so rude back there. I—I don’t know why I said that.”

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. Then he got out of the car.

Georgia’s stomach sank. This was it. She’d managed to keep her job while working for Finola White, but now she was going to lose it. She could not lose this job.

She reached for the door handle, but Tristan was there, opening it for her. This time when he offered her his hand, she accepted it, deciding no good would come of refusing him again.

His hand was warm and strong and he helped her out easily. Then he promptly released her fingers.

He studied her for a moment, his expression still indecipherable.

“Thank you for helping me pick out the furniture,” he finally said. “Head back to the office. I have some other errands I need to run.”

Surprised that that was all he was going to say, she could only nod.

She walked away from him, pausing at the door that led into their building and the elevators up to the
HOT!
offices. He was watching her, but when she looked back, it was his turn to nod at her.

She still couldn’t read anything he was thinking, and that scared her, but she just went into the building and back to her desk.

After a moment of nerves and worries, she decided the best way to secure her job was to get back to work and start checking the items off her list.

By six o’clock, the list was completed and Tristan still hadn’t returned. That didn’t help her nerves, but she told herself not to borrow trouble. She’d worry when she knew she had something to worry about.

Plus, she had plenty of other things that needed her attention.

Still, while standing on the subway, jerking and jostling toward home, she wondered if she’d have a job tomorrow morning. She needed this job.

But when she stepped into her apartment, all thoughts about
HOT!
and its infuriating editor–in-chief disappeared.

“How is she?” Georgia asked softly as soon as she entered her small kitchen to find her neighbor Ellen fixing two cups of tea.

Ellen automatically reached into the cupboard to get a third cup.

“She’s been pretty good today. Just one little bout of confusion, but overall, today was a good day.”

Georgia smiled, maybe her first genuine smile of the day, and left Ellen to head into the living room.

“Hi, Grammy,” she said, still smiling as she entered the room.

Her frail, sweet-faced grandmother set down her knitting and smiled back at her. Georgia could immediately see that today definitely was one of her good days. Recognition was clear in the old woman’s hazy blue eyes.

“Georgie, how was your day?”

“Ah, never mind my day, Grammy. HHHhhhow was yours?”

Her grandmother picked up her knitting. “Well, I’m almost done with your hat.”

Georgia admired it, amazed at the detailing her grandmother could still do even with her gnarled fingers.

“It’s beautiful, Grammy.”

Her grandmother looked very pleased, but then she frowned. “I don’t remember what I did with the mittens though. I thought I made them.”

“You did,” Georgia immediately assured her. “I have them in my room.”

“Oh, right,” her grandmother said as if she remembered, but Georgia knew she didn’t. But that was just a small memory lapse. Just a blip compared to some days.

This was the person Georgia was working for. She was determined to keep her grandmother here living with her as long as possible. And Georgia needed the money she made at
HOT!
to do that.