enough.”
Fair call. “And now?”
“Now, I’m an attending, I no longer have to prove myself in the hope of getting a permanent position. I’ve done that; I’m set. My hours aren’t crazy but still aren’t nine to five. I’ve seen you once in the past year and I had to fight not to reach out to you then, so I don’t care if you think I’m a creeper anymore.” He flashes me that wicked grin of his. “But last night, seeing you deal with that douchebag, I knew I wanted you and—more than that—wanted to get to know the woman behind the sassy attitude and sexy strut.”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. What does a woman say to that? Straight-talking, hot-as-hell Doctor Hottie, just laid it all out for me with no prompting necessary.
“You could’ve knocked on my door,” I mumble against my coffee mug.
In the blink of an eye, his stool scrapes against the floor, he rounds the counter, and he eases the cup out of my hand. He puts it down and wraps his hand around the back of my head. He bends me back onto the counter, his chest pressing into mine and his eyes full of heat. Then his mouth is on mine and he’s kissing me hard, fast and dirty—just how I like it.
“Next time,” he says, running his tongue along my bottom lip before dipping inside and retreating again, “I’ll knock on your door.”
My lips curve up into a smile against his, my brown eyes looking deep into his sapphire ones. “Next time you won’t need to knock, because you’ll have my number because I’m your fake girlfriend.”
He pulls back and stares down at me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
I laugh. “I am, Cade. Just as long as you realize I’m not the type of girl to go to political events and high-society functions.”
Now he takes a step back and leans his back against the opposite counter, his eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“I work as a hotel manager.”
His brows lift up. “I know. I’m still not getting why you don’t think you’ll fit in—not that you’d have to.”
“I’m also a stripper . . .” I study his expression for any sign that he’s put off by my admission, but he doesn’t give anything away.
His lips quirk, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”
I throw my hands up. “See? Totally not worthy of being a mother buffer. They’ll take one look at me and know I’m not worthy.”
Two strides and he presses into me again, his hands lifting to rest on either side of my neck. “Don’t ever say that you’re not worthy. If you’re trying to shock me, it’s not going to work.”
What does one say to that?
“Okaaay . . .” I reply, and he just smirks at me.
“How about this?” he says, pulling me up straight but not loosening his hold around me. “You let me take you out for dinner this week and we get to know each other when we’re both clothed and not able to do anything other than talk and enjoy each other’s company.”
He’s asking me out on a date?
Looking at him now, he seems genuine. He’s a nice guy who just happens to have a dirty mouth, a commanding nature, and is talented at using every part of his body. This isn’t some hotshot wanting to slum it, or a guy who just wants to get his rocks off and walk away—although weirdly, I never got that impression from him.
He’s seems serious about this and honestly what have I got to lose?
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he repeats.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll do it. I’ll be your mother buffer at the event. If I’m working, I’ll swap with someone, and then we’ll . . . you know . . .” I wave my hand in the air.
His eyes go soft as he leans in for another soft brush of the lips. “Just promise me one thing.”
“Shoot.”
“Whoever you meet and whatever you see, don’t ever think I’m like them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m my own man—I just happened to be born into a world where my name has a legacy attached to it.”
“Okay . . .” I reply, now totally