“Well, not everything.” I realize we never discussed specifics. Last night, we merely covered big-picture things. “I need to know the shape and size of the woman you desire. Age. Hair color. Chest size. Shaved bald or landing strip? Give me your preferences.”
“Pardon?” He scoffs with a smirk.
“Be as specific as possible.” I grab my notepad and pen, poised and ready.
He leans back in his seat and appraises me, his gaze sinking slowly from my loose chignon bun to the peep-toe pumps resting under my desk.
I fight off a shiver. Good fucking golly, it’s been way too long since I’ve been laid.
“Hmm. Let’s see.” He leans closer, his eyes still appraising me as he rubs his chin. “Five six.” He stops and looks down at my heels again. “No, five three, about 145 pounds. Twenty . . . six? With dark blond hair. Shoulder length. And green eyes.”
Sterling just described me to a fucking T, and I’m not amused. He promised to take this seriously.
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“Not at all. Why?” He shifts closer still, and I catch a sniff of his mouth-watering cologne.
“I’m not an idiot, Sterling. You don’t need to stroke my ego, or butter me up. I’m in this until the end. When I take on a project, I always see it through. No matter what.”
His confused look tells me his compliment had nothing to do with kissing up. Which means now I’m the one who’s confused.
Sighing, I inhale deeply. “Okay, let’s try this again. Your preferences.”
He rises to his feet and leans over one side of my desk, fiddling with my unicorn mug that serves as a pencil holder. “Size doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, come on.” I roll my eyes and snatch the mug from his hands. “That’s just a lie women tell men; you don’t need to perpetuate it. Trust me; size matters.”
“Fine, does this help? I’d much prefer a Kim Kardashian body type than a Kate Moss.”
Okay, so he likes curves. “Yes, it does, actually.”
My round, size-eight ass and full breasts usually feel like too much, but with that one statement, my constant the diet starts Monday mentality suddenly seems insignificant. I set down the mug on the far end of my desk and jot down a note, then press on.
“Okay. Race, religion, politics . . . anything important I should know? Any particular quirks, such as a foot fetish or a breast man, things like that I need to be aware of?”
“Not really,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m fairly open.”
“Well then, I think I have enough to work with for now. I can begin assembling some candidates for you to consider.”
Sterling rises from the chair and stalks straight toward me. “One more thing, love.” His voice is low, and the sultry sound goes straight to my clit. “Preferably bare,” he adds in barely a whisper.
My knees tremble, and I force a breath into my lungs.
“Are you going to write that in your little notebook?”
“I think I can remember that.” Actually, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that detail.
Sterling checks his wristwatch, a platinum-and-gold number that looks expensive. “Are you free Wednesday night, by chance?”
“For?” I thought we were through here.
“To hang out.”
Hang out? I doubt that’s a good idea. “Oh, I, um. I need to check my schedule.”
He rises to his feet, then nods. “Brilliant. Ring me and let me know.”
I’m in a daze, but I find myself rising and nodding back at him. “Have a good evening.”
“Good-bye, Anna,” Sterling says on his way out the door.
I’d totally forgotten about Anna.
“Ho. Ly. Shit!” Anna blurts the second he’s gone. “That was freaking intense!”
I want to blow her off, to downplay what just happened. Instead, I lean against the side of my desk and pull deep breaths into my lungs.
“Seriously? That was crazy. I need a cigarette right now,” Anna says, smiling at me. “And I don’t even smoke.”
“Don’t read more into this than is there. He’s charming and was just trying to be funny. That’s all.”
I fall back into my chair and try to focus on my laptop screen. But it might as well be written in Mandarin for all I can decipher. Sterling has left me completely and utterly flustered.
“He wants to hang out?” Anna giggles. “Is that a euphemism for something sexy where he’s from?”
“Of course not; don’t be silly.” But hell, part of me wants to google it just to be sure. “Let’s just get back to work.”
Anna sighs, but heads back to her desk.
I can’t help but wonder about his past. How many lovers has he had? I don’t know his dating history, and when I asked if he’s ever had a real relationship, he didn’t give me a full answer. I only know about the string of one-night stands he’s had over the years. He’s never been obvious about it, but I’ve gathered enough from hanging around Olivia and Noah to understand that Sterling has no problem taking a different woman home every weekend.
As my curiosity grows, I try to convince myself I’m only interested in the details because of my role.
Who am I kidding?
Not Anna. And not myself.
Jealousy bubbles up inside me, and I want to know who he’s dated, who he’s slept with. Closing my eyes for a second, I scold myself silently, because I have no right to be jealous.