I nod, relieved that she seems cheerier at the prospect. “Also, I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me?”
“Dinner?” She frowns.
“At my desk. Call it a combined celebratory dinner and working meeting. In fact, I’m so thrilled at the outcome of today’s board meeting, I’ll order the dinner.”
Half an hour later, she knocks on the door and enters, carrying the food that I ordered.
I stretch my arms up in the air, then roll my shoulders. "Just in time. My hunger was beginning to eat into my concentration."
I look up in time to find her staring at my biceps. The interest in her features, the parting of her delicate lips… All of it sets my blood on fire. I must be mistaking my hunger for food for hunger for something else. I wrench my attention back to my desk and push my papers aside.
She places the paper bags on the desk. Then, as if unable to stopherself, she jerks her chin toward my face. "You’re wearing your spectacles."
"I need them for reading, especially when my eyes are tired."
She continues to scan my features with a look I can only describe as…lust-filled. Damn, it makes me wonder if it was a good idea to ask her to have dinner with me. But no way, could I have let her spend the rest of the evening on her own. Not when her performance at the board meeting was celebration worthy.
I lean back in my chair. “You like my glasses?"
"What?" She seems to rouse herself. "Oh yeah, they suit you." As if uncomfortable by what she’s revealed, she looks away, then seats herself.
I rise to my feet, grab some plates, glasses, cutlery and napkins from the kitchenette in my office, and set them in front of me and the seat across from me at my desk.
I plate out the food, dividing it between hers and mine. Turkey Ballotine stuffed with chestnut, sage, and cranberry, sliced into medallions.
She sniffs the food. "Smells divine."
I grab the bottle of mulled wine that came with the delivery and pour some out into our glasses.
"Bon appétit."
We dig into the food. I inhale most of what’s on my plate before I pause to take a drink of the mulled wine. The flavors of cinnamon, cloves, star anise and nutmeg explode on my palate.
"So good. It tastes both elegant and Christmassy.” She takes another bite of the turkey.
“I figured you’d like it, since you're a Christmas junkie.”
She looks at me with a weird look on her face. Her big eyes glitter at me.
“You’re not going to cry, are you?” I only half-joke.
“Of course, not.” She sniffs. “But that was a nice thing to do. You’re a good man, Brody Davenport.”
I stare at her. I don’t want her to see me as a good man. Well, notonlya good man. If she knew the things I want to do to her, she wouldn’t see me that way.
“What?” She frowns.
I shake my head and take another sip of wine to wet my suddenly parched throat.
She brings a forkful of the medallion to her mouth. I can’t look away from the spectacle of her lips curling around the tines of her fork. And I can’t stop myself from imagining how it’d feel to have her mouth wrapped round my cock, either. Said appendage instantly perks up.
The arousal I somehow managed to smother into submission tightens my pants again. Good thing I have the desk between us. Her fiancé. Yes, that’s it. Focus on the man who treats her so fucking badly, it makes me want to tear him from limb to limb.
I spend a few seconds relishing the thought before fixing my attention on her face.
"Will you spend Christmas with your fiancé?" The words are out before I can stop them.
Bloody hell, why did I have to bring up that tosser now? When I’m having dinner with her, when I know how much the mention of him seems to blight her mood.
