Guilty Pleasures

I had to admit it was a nice backside. She caught me looking at her and hurriedly turned away.

“Defending my honor,” Phillip asked.

I pushed away from him and punched the elevator button. “What are you doing here?”

“Jean-Claude didn't come back last night. Do you know why?”

“I didn't do away with him, if that's what you're implying.”

The doors opened. Phillip leaned against them, holding them open with his body and one arm. The smile he flashed me was full of potential, a little evil, a lot of sex. Did I really want to be alone in an elevator with him? Probably not, but I was armed. He, as far as I could tell, was not.

I walked under his arm without having to duck. The doors hushed behind us. We were alone. He leaned into one comer, arms crossed over his chest, staring at me from behind black lenses.

“Do you always do that?” I asked.

A slight smile. “Do what?”

“Pose.”

He stiffened just a little, then relaxed against the wall. “Natural talent.”

I shook my head. “Uh-huh.” I stared at the flickering floor numbers.

“Is Jean-Claude all right?”

I glanced at him and didn't know what to say. The elevator stopped. We got out. “You didn't answer me,” he said softly.

I sighed. It was too long a story. “It's almost noon. I'll tell you what I can over lunch.”

He gri

I smiled before I could stop myself. “You wish.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Flirtatious little thing, aren't you?”

“Most women like it.”

“I would like it better if I didn't think you'd flirt with my ninety-year-old grandmother the same way you're flirting with me now.”

He coughed back a laugh. “You don't have a very high opinion of me.”

“I am a very judgmental person. It's one of my faults.”

He laughed again, a nice sound. “Maybe I can hear about the rest of your faults after you've told me where Jean-Claude is.”

“I don't think so.”

“Why not?”

I stopped just in front of the glass doors that led out into the street. “Because I saw you last night. I know what you are, and I know how you get your kicks.”

His hand reached out and brushed my shoulder. “I get my kicks a lot of different ways.”

I frowned at his hand, and it moved away. “Save it, Phillip. I'm not buying.”

“Maybe by the end of lunch you will be.”

I sighed. I had met men like Phillip before, handsome men who are accustomed to women drooling over them. He wasn't trying to seduce me; he just wanted me to admit that I found him attractive. If I didn't admit it, he would keep pestering me. “I give up; you win.”

“What do I win?” he asked.

“You're wonderful, you're gorgeous. You are one of the best looking men I have ever seen. From the soles of your boots, the length of your skin-tight jeans, to the flat, rippling plains of your stomach, to the sculpted line of your jaw, you are beautiful. Now can we go to lunch and cut the nonsense?”

He lowered his sunglasses just enough to see over the top of them. He stared at me like that for several minutes, then raised the glasses back in place. “You pick the restaurant.” He said it flat, no teasing.

I wondered if I had offended him. I wondered if I cared.