Read Online Best Friends With the Billionaire (The Rochesters) by Coleen Kwan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Coleen Kwan
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than raucous partying.
Kirk finished his beer then visited the restroom. When he returned, a man was talking to Cassie. The stranger stood next to her bar stool, one arm propped up on the counter, leaning over her. He was well-groomed, probably in his thirties, and the way he was blocking Cassie off from the rest of the crowd indicated he was definitely interested in her.
Kirk stopped dead in his tracks. A strange, barbed feeling twisted in his gut as he stared at Cassie, trying to gauge her reaction to the dude. She sat straight, legs crossed, looking up at the guy hitting on her, and the small grin on her face said she wasn’t exactly discouraging him. Why the hell did she have to smile at him like that?
As he watched, Cassie straightened her Giants T-shirt, and the movement drew his attention to her breasts. He’d never studied her breasts before, but now he couldn’t help noticing they were round and firm and generous. He found himself noticing other things about her, like the soft fullness of her lower lip, the thick sweep of hair brushing her eyes, the curve of her upper thighs encased in denim.
The prickling in his gut intensified and rippled through his limbs. His fingers spasmed, and the muscles in his back contracted. Heat sparked and bloomed in him and spread to his groin in a hot, inexorable tide.
Shit, what was going on with him? He was staring at Cassie—leering at her—like a man who’d just gotten out of prison. Why hadn’t he ever noticed how sexy she was? Not glaringly sexy, not in a pouty, mincing, cleavage-thrusting way, but in a subtle, fresh, natural way, a way that snuck up and hit him on the head like a sledgehammer.
He rubbed the back of his neck, confused and dismayed by these novel sensations. How could he be turned on by Cassie now, after all these years? She was his best friend, she trusted him, relied on him. She’d never shown any amorous interest in him, not once in all the years they’d known each other. If she knew what was going through his head, if she knew he was sorely tempted to touch her, kiss her, run his hands all over her, she’d be horrified. Or frightened.
He couldn’t risk it. He’d already decided that he valued friendship over sex. Lust was transitory, and Cassie was too important to him to risk scaring her off. He had to forget how much he wanted to hold her.
The guy chatting her up let out a braying laugh, at the same time slipping an arm around her waist.
That does it! Kirk strode up to Cassie’s bar stool, jostling the man’s arm so it dropped to his side.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked Cassie, acting like the other man didn’t exist.
“Hey, dude, what’s your problem?”
Kirk kept his focus on Cassie. She glanced between the two of them, bewildered. “Uh, sure.” As she stood, she looked at the other guy. “Sorry, we have to go.”
“But I don’t have your number.”
Kirk’s lips tightened. “It’s 1-800-in-your-dreams,” he snapped before he took Cassie by the arm and ushered her out of the bar, barely pausing to wave good-bye to Emilio on the way.
Outside on the sidewalk, Cassie chuckled. “1-800-in-your-dreams? I’ve never had the opportunity to use that line before.”
Kirk blinked at her, struggling to get his ruffled emotions under control. He was still holding her arm, and he realized how close they were standing together. Close enough to smell her delicate, lemony scent. Close enough to see the flecks of umber in her eyes, the smattering of freckles across her nose, the denseness of her eyelashes. Her head was tilted up toward him, her face filled with bubbling amusement.
“Don’t tell me you enjoyed having that guy hit on you?” he asked, surprised at the gruffness in his voice.
“I don’t know. Guys don’t hit on me very often. They’re more likely to treat me like one of the guys than a hot chick.”
Guilt panged inside his chest. Yeah, that’s what he’d always done—viewed her as one of the guys
Kirk finished his beer then visited the restroom. When he returned, a man was talking to Cassie. The stranger stood next to her bar stool, one arm propped up on the counter, leaning over her. He was well-groomed, probably in his thirties, and the way he was blocking Cassie off from the rest of the crowd indicated he was definitely interested in her.
Kirk stopped dead in his tracks. A strange, barbed feeling twisted in his gut as he stared at Cassie, trying to gauge her reaction to the dude. She sat straight, legs crossed, looking up at the guy hitting on her, and the small grin on her face said she wasn’t exactly discouraging him. Why the hell did she have to smile at him like that?
As he watched, Cassie straightened her Giants T-shirt, and the movement drew his attention to her breasts. He’d never studied her breasts before, but now he couldn’t help noticing they were round and firm and generous. He found himself noticing other things about her, like the soft fullness of her lower lip, the thick sweep of hair brushing her eyes, the curve of her upper thighs encased in denim.
The prickling in his gut intensified and rippled through his limbs. His fingers spasmed, and the muscles in his back contracted. Heat sparked and bloomed in him and spread to his groin in a hot, inexorable tide.
Shit, what was going on with him? He was staring at Cassie—leering at her—like a man who’d just gotten out of prison. Why hadn’t he ever noticed how sexy she was? Not glaringly sexy, not in a pouty, mincing, cleavage-thrusting way, but in a subtle, fresh, natural way, a way that snuck up and hit him on the head like a sledgehammer.
He rubbed the back of his neck, confused and dismayed by these novel sensations. How could he be turned on by Cassie now, after all these years? She was his best friend, she trusted him, relied on him. She’d never shown any amorous interest in him, not once in all the years they’d known each other. If she knew what was going through his head, if she knew he was sorely tempted to touch her, kiss her, run his hands all over her, she’d be horrified. Or frightened.
He couldn’t risk it. He’d already decided that he valued friendship over sex. Lust was transitory, and Cassie was too important to him to risk scaring her off. He had to forget how much he wanted to hold her.
The guy chatting her up let out a braying laugh, at the same time slipping an arm around her waist.
That does it! Kirk strode up to Cassie’s bar stool, jostling the man’s arm so it dropped to his side.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked Cassie, acting like the other man didn’t exist.
“Hey, dude, what’s your problem?”
Kirk kept his focus on Cassie. She glanced between the two of them, bewildered. “Uh, sure.” As she stood, she looked at the other guy. “Sorry, we have to go.”
“But I don’t have your number.”
Kirk’s lips tightened. “It’s 1-800-in-your-dreams,” he snapped before he took Cassie by the arm and ushered her out of the bar, barely pausing to wave good-bye to Emilio on the way.
Outside on the sidewalk, Cassie chuckled. “1-800-in-your-dreams? I’ve never had the opportunity to use that line before.”
Kirk blinked at her, struggling to get his ruffled emotions under control. He was still holding her arm, and he realized how close they were standing together. Close enough to smell her delicate, lemony scent. Close enough to see the flecks of umber in her eyes, the smattering of freckles across her nose, the denseness of her eyelashes. Her head was tilted up toward him, her face filled with bubbling amusement.
“Don’t tell me you enjoyed having that guy hit on you?” he asked, surprised at the gruffness in his voice.
“I don’t know. Guys don’t hit on me very often. They’re more likely to treat me like one of the guys than a hot chick.”
Guilt panged inside his chest. Yeah, that’s what he’d always done—viewed her as one of the guys
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