Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (3 page)

"Um ... not normally, no." His tone makes me think he probably has before, though it's not often. The thought still doesn't sit well with me. I sigh, realizing none of this matters. I forcefully bring my eyes to lock with his.

"You can't take me out
, Jeremy." It's the truth. He can't. It breaks protocol.

Because you've always cared about protocol?
my subconscious sneers.

He looks shocked
, as if he’s never been told no.

"Why the hell not?"

Is he going to throw a tantrum
?

"Because I said so.
Trust me on this. I'm sorry, but I have to walk away now."

He looks dumbfounded by the interaction, and I think I am biting my lip so hard it might bleed, but I turn around and walk back to the bar.

Why do I feel so terrible?

Because this job has fucked up your love life tenfold!

I sigh at the unfortunate truth.

I peer down at my watch, and it's about half past midnight. I wonder if I could get out of here an hour or so early.

"Lydia, is it cool I leave early tonight?"

She looks annoyed by the request, but I don't care. She checks numbers on the register, looks up
, and says, "Just let your tables know, and then tell Francesca. She's looking for some extra tips tonight."

I grin.
"Thank you, Lydia. I have a big exam I should be studying for, and this will really help."

She waves her hand as if to dismiss me. She doesn't care either.

The only problem I have now is that I have to go back to Marcus's table. How can I face them after what happened between Jeremy and me? Why do I want to throw a tantrum now?

Keep it together, Turner.

Distractions & Follow Through

ALEX TURNER

I straighten my shorts as I think about ways to salvage the night. This is my
fifth time working here. Derek is going to be pissed that I didn't make any progress, and that I left early.
Shit
.

I take a deep breath as I approach
Marcus's table. What's worse is, Jeremy already has his eyes on me.

I look away and notice Marcus is
curious to see what his friend is staring at and turns around. Marcus's face slinks into a slow, lazy smile at the sight of me.

"Hello
, boys." They all stop what they are doing to look at me—all of them. Why do I find it unnerving all of a sudden? "I just wanted to inform you that I'll be heading out for the night, but I thought I could put in another round of drinks for you all." My words sound crisp and confident.
Thank goodness
.

Jeremy is not letting up with his stare, and with this sort of secret smile playing on his lips
, he has me wanting to run. Does he think I'm leaving because of him? Because, he would be half-right.

"Leaving?" Marcus sputters
. "But the night is about to get interesting." Catching me completely off guard, Marcus pulls me into the booth to take a seat. I force out a giggle, and slide out.

"I really must be going. I have to study."
Please don't touch me.
I don't know if pawning myself off as a starving student will work.

Jeremy chimes in this time. "Well, we are about to leave. Do you mind closing out our tab, and letting us walk you out?"

It all seems inappropriate, but I am willing to consider this an opportunity to get Marcus's attention before it's too late. Maybe I will slip him my number without the prying eyes of Jeremy. I agree with a timid, "Sure."

Looking around at his boys, he says matter-of-factly, "
It's on me," and hands me his credit card. If he thinks that will impress me, he is dead wrong.

I make my way to the register to close out their $400 tab, and return promptly to their table. I hold back rolling my eyes when I hand him back his card.

"Are we meeting you outside?"

"I really just need a cab."

He smiles, ignoring my statement.

"Meet you out there in ten
, then?"

I look back at Marcus
, who has his eyes on me as he licks his lips. I know what I have to do.

"
All right, in ten."

I scurry to the back room
, pull my black zip-up hoodie over my shoulders, and submit to the reality that this isn't my best look. I hastily slip off my heels, stuffing them in my pack, and pull on my black chucks as a comfortable replacement.

Taking a piece of paper out, I scribble my cell phone number on it so I can give it to Marcus. I am sure he will call me. If not, then I don't know what I'll do.

I walk through the club to the front door, and there they are, though most of the men have vanished. There is only Luc, the strange man I don't recognize; Marcus, who is puffing on a cigarette and I ache to ask him for a hit; and Jeremy, standing there as if he stepped out of some high-end glossy magazine, his crystal eyes practically twinkling in the darkness.

Why does he have to be so distracting?

Before they see me coming, I hear Jeremy say, "Ya know, man, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one? Those things are gonna kill you. Didn't your mother ever tell you that?" in reference to Marcus's nicotine habit, and it has me regretting my own.

"Kiss my ass
, Hunt."

I walk up and command the men's attention. Lucky for me
, Marcus goes in for the kill before Jeremy has time to think, which pleases me. It makes this whole thing easier.

Marcus has been drinking a lot
, which I'm sure has upped his confidence. He puts his hand on my arm, tugging me closer to him. I will play this to my advantage; I have to. Pay or play, now is the time to act.

Marcus speaks first.
"Hey, it really was a pleasure meeting you. Do you mind if I call you sometime?"

My mouth drops slightly. He thinks it's because I am pleased he asked, but in actuality
, it's because he is making this damn easy for me.

I open my mouth to speak, but the conversation behind Marcus distracts me.

Jeremy is speaking fluent French with the stranger, Luc. With the sounds of the passing traffic, I can’t catch every word, but Jeremy is either annoyed with the man or at me, because I notice his eyes keep darting back to me with a scowl. However, the sounds and words coming out of his mouth make the whole thing entirely sexy. My face heats up.

Get a grip
, Agent Turner
.

I
focus on their conversation. I speak five languages other than English: French, Russian, Portuguese, Spanish, and Arabic. It comes in handy. I can't catch all of it, but it has something to do with Luc leaving town by the end of the weekend. I wonder if the Frenchman will have time to discuss biological warfare between now and Sunday.

I bring my attention back to Marcus
, who is still awaiting my answer. I smile, and instead of speaking, I hand him the piece of paper with my number on it.

He grins like a
child, and pockets it. It is almost adorable, but I have to remind myself he is the bad guy.

"Definitely call me." I smirk
. "Do you think maybe you can give me a ride home? Sorry if it's too much to ask. I can get a cab."

His grin falls as his eyebrows furrow. He peers behind him at Luc, then back at me.

"I would love to, but I have to meet with someone. I can call you, right?"

Meet with someone at one in the morning? Now that sounds fishy.

My request was a long shot anyway. I feign disappointment and pout.

"Yes, please gimme a call
." Even bolder—when I think Jeremy isn't looking—I lean in and kiss Marcus below the ear to seal the deal. I swear, I think he shivers.

I pull away the moment the valet pulls up with his Mercedes. Still smiling
, he waves at me, and hops into the driver's side. I should question his sobriety, but as I watch Luc join him in the passenger seat, other questions flood my mind.

What are those two up to? I need to let Derek know. He can track them.

The car pulls away, and I am alone with Jeremy, who is now standing right next to me.

I stare into the distance, not wanting to make eye contact even though I know he's staring at me. I bob back and forth on my heels
, waiting for a cab, wishing for this moment to be over. He scoffs next to me, and I still don't budge.

As if he can't take it
, he says, "Really?"

The statement almost offends me. I turn to look at him, and it is a blatant mistake. He stands
with hands in his pockets in a nonchalant sort of pose. My mouth starts watering.
Focus.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"You're kidding right now, right? That stunt you just pulled with Marcus. Is this all because I grabbed your ass?" He is coming dangerously close to being crude, and I decide to get right to the point.

"Is this because I offered him my number, and not you?"

His mouth forms a hard line, and he is all tough CEO, but I am no mouse and I stare right back. After a moment, he is trying to hold back his smile.

"Maybe it is
." He pouts.

When Jeremy pouts, it's a
remarkable sight.
I gulp over my last thought.

"Well, I wou
ld say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

As if dumbfounded
, he continues, "Why Marcus? Why him? He's been a drunk slob all night!"

Is he really putting down his friend? I wonder if talking about his friends this way is a habit.

I turn to look away because I can't think of a logical response. He knows I am attracted to him, and I will not let him take advantage of that fact. I can tell he thinks it's funny that I am giving him the silent treatment, and it annoys me. He riles me up!

He leans in somewhat close, and in a mocking tone
, he says, "Is it these blue eyes? Are they too much for you?"

Before I can stop it
, a laugh erupts from my mouth, and I look at him and roll my eyes.

"Mr. Hunt, you are definitely not used to
not
getting what you want, and it almost pleases me that I can affect you so."

He bites his lip, nodding his head as he looks away.

"You're toying with me."

Another laugh escapes my lips, and I stop that onslaught too. He is right, and it is kind of fun doing it. He sighs as if defeated. Maybe he is throwing up the white flag, and I can move on.

"Well, Miss … what is your last name?"

"Turner."
Eek.
I flinch at the idiot that I am. That is my fucking real name. Derek is going to be pissed.

"Well, Miss Turner, if you're done not letting me get what I want, I'd like to give you a ride home."

Oh no, you don't. Where is this cab?

"No, thank you."
A strange pull compels me to look at him. He is staring at me now, and it’s overwhelming. His eyes are intense and hypnotizing.

"No. It really is
OK. I can give you a ride," he persists.

"I'd prefer you didn't."

He runs his hand through his blond hair, clearly exasperated with the turn of events and me.

"You really enjoy damaging my ego this much?"

I smirk. "If that's what I am doing, I'm sorry. It's not my intention. I just think it's better I take a cab."

"Hmm." Another sound of defeat
. "Then let me get you a cab."

I open my mouth to stop him, but before I can, he raises his arm, and as if he summons one out of thin air, a yellow cab pulls up immediately. This man is definitely used to getting what he wants when he wants it.

I fumble with my words, confused with the interaction. "Uh-um, thank you, Mr. Hunt."

He sighs and rolls his eyes as he opens the door for me.
"Please, just Jeremy."

I bite my lip.
Why do I feel guilty?

"Thank you, Jeremy."

He closes the door once I have tucked my legs inside, and again, before I can stop him, he leans in through the passenger window and says to the cabbie, "Please take this nice young lady anywhere she needs to go." Without a second thought, he slips the driver a hundred-dollar bill. I gasp at his kindness, and before I can even protest or give thanks, he cuts me off. "It was a pleasure, Miss Turner. Goodnight."

All I want to do is tell him I prefer Alex
, but the cab speeds away. The image of those glacier blue eyes on that perfect face lingers in my mind's eye.

My stomach squirms with nerves. Trying to regain some of my
equilibrium, I tell the cabbie, "Please take me to the Back Bay area, thank you."

I sigh and fall back into my seat, watching the streetlights zoom by.

I should be thinking about Marcus Gibbs and when he will call me, but I am more distracted with the idea of Jeremy Hunt.

Fuck.