I tried to giggle it away, but I sounded like a tittering schoolgirl. But so damn what? James and I had always flirted, just innocent office innuendo. Sipping my vodka, I felt numbness in my nose and cheeks where there’d been too much heat moments before.
"You should go to your husband," he said in a slow, dismissive drawl. Sometimes Louisiana still showed up in his voice.
"Screw my husband."
"No thanks," James laughed. He hesitated, chewing his lip. Then he leaned close and whispered, "But if that offer applied to you..." He stood straight up again.
I could have pretended I hadn’t heard him. But his gaze was intense, and even through my vodka haze I saw he was no longer just flirting. I sipped at my glass, which now held nothing but a few ice cubes. James shifted so he blocked my view of the far door where Greg waited. Without a word, James reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a card. "Room four fifteen." He dropped the card into my glass and walked past me to the elevators.
Oh, shit. Greg now had a clear line of sight to me and my glass full of ice and guilt. He shook his head, then tapped a finger to his watch and pointed at the exit. Turning a little too quickly, I stumbled into one of the marketing guys before steadying myself with a hand on the bar. I set the glass down and stared at it.
"All through, ma’am?" The bartender eyed me. "Perhaps some water?" He replaced my glass with another. The world went all slow and swimmy. Then, next to the water glass, the room key reappeared. I glanced at the bartender, who suddenly seemed to have no knowledge that I was standing there.