The Billionaire’s Favorite Mistake (Page 15)

Immediately, he had an inappropriate boner. Damn it. Asher mentally willed his body to behave, but all he could think about were his few flashes of memory from that night—her soft body welcoming his, the adoring look in her dark eyes, the delicate swells of her dark-tipped breasts. She hadn’t noticed him thus far, and he was able to drink in the sight of her, unobstructed. She smiled and nodded as someone next to her spoke, but her expression seemed to be guarded. Wary. When her father spoke, her expression was attentive, but not beaming with affection or pride. A memory niggled at Asher, of Greer spending holidays back at her apartment rather than going home to visit family. Her expression changed as someone said something to her, and he watched a genuine smile spread across her face, and his body reacted again.

It seemed that now his type had gone from redheads to, well, Greer.

This was not a problem for him.

The speech droned on, Stijn taking his time to talk himself up as he spoke of his company and his many accomplishments. Asher watched Greer through the entire speech, noting when her expression grew distant, and when she truly smiled. Odd that he could tell the difference, given that she tended to mask her emotions well.

At some point, the speech ended and the crowd surged to their feet, giving Stijn a standing ovation. People whistled and cheered as if the man hadn’t bought himself a damn award, but Asher clapped along with the rest of them just to blend in. When the group started to disperse into partying again, he got out of his chair and moved toward Greer’s table, stalking her.

He saw her heading off with one of the waitstaff and jogged to catch up. “Greer!”

She turned and her face paled at the sight of him. Her mouth firmed into an angry line of distaste, and then she picked up her skirts and continued to walk away.

Yeah, he was definitely on the shit list.

That didn’t deter him, though. Asher headed after her, following her into the house and catching up despite her efforts to hurry. “Hey, wait up. I think we need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Asher.” She didn’t turn to look at him.

He reached out and clasped her arm, noting how warm her skin was, and how soft. And damn it all if he didn’t start to get another inappropriate boner. His body really needed to learn to calm the fuck down. “Just give me five minutes of your time, all right? Then I’ll leave you alone.”

She exchanged a look with the waitress, and then nodded at her. “I’ll be inside in a minute. Go ahead.” When the woman left, Greer sighed and turned back to him, smoothing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “What is it, Asher? I’m very busy tonight with the party.”

“I can imagine. This is a terrific party. I should have known you were behind it.” He knew she’d done weddings for some top-notch clients in New York and always took her job extremely seriously. Of course she’d put on a spectacular party for her father. “Listen. I feel like the last time we saw each other, we . . . well, we fucked up.”

Her eyebrows went up.

Shit. That was apparently the wrong thing to say. “I mean, it was a fuckup, but not that fucking you was a mistake.” God, where was his suaveness when he needed it? Why was he all diarrhea of the mouth when it came to Greer? He could sweet talk anyone, but the moment he came close to her, he babbled like a schoolboy. “Not that I think we should have fucked, of course. We’re friends, and friends don’t sleep with each other. Not if they want to stay friends. And you’ve been avoiding me. We haven’t had our Mondays in the last few months.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“It doesn’t have to be Mondays, you know. It can be any other day. Or it doesn’t have to be lunch. It can be anytime you need it to be if your schedule is all screwed.” He frowned to himself. “I should probably stop saying the word screwed, shouldn’t I?”

Her arms crossed over her chest, pressing her dress tighter against her body. “Is this conversation going somewhere, Asher? Like I said, I’m very busy tonight.”

Greer’s tits looked magnificent in that dress, he realized. They’d been small, perfect handfuls the night they’d slept together and now they seemed . . . doubly abundant. “Did you get a boob job?”

Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “I need to go.”

Fuck, why did he say that? “Sorry. It’s none of my business. Listen.” He reached out and grabbed her elbow when she turned to leave, stopping her. “The reason why I wanted to talk to you tonight is because I was behaving like an ass that night. I was drunk and I wasn’t myself. I was just lost in misery and in booze, and if I’d been thinking straight, I would have never dragged you off to the gardens and slept with you.” And damn if that didn’t sound all wrong, too. “Not because you’re not attractive, Greer. You are.”

“You’re not winning me over, Asher.” Her voice sounded hard. “Did you truly come to this party just to tell me that you find me repulsive and you wouldn’t have slept with me if you were sober?”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant at all. You’re hot. I mean, hell, you look smoking hot in that dress tonight.” She was all lush curves, which was surprising given that his memories of her were of her daintiness. But her body had changed in the last couple of months. And something about that was bothering him. “I just . . . don’t think we should have done that. As friends.”

“On that, I agree completely. May I go now?”

Why wasn’t she thawing toward him? He remembered Greer as all soft, shy smiles for him. They’d been friends, good friends. The cool, remote stranger in front of him . . . well, it reminded him of Stijn and the politely disinterested-because-you-are-dirt-to-me expression he wore at all times. “I just . . . you’re a good friend and I don’t want to lose you.”