"I-I don’t mean...did not mean that to sound..."
"Dismissive? Rude? No worries, Mr. Brant, I am used to it. Come on, let’s go see what you prepared for Mr. Tomford."
Turning, she stalks briskly away, down the hall to her office. I hesitate. I do not want to go through with this. Not now. I looked stupid then insulted her. There is no way this is going to go the way we hoped it would. Sighing, I follow her, doing my very best—and failing—not to watch the sway of her hips and the way her ass looks in that little skirt.
I am not a typical chauvinist guy who catcalls women because of how they look in a skirt. I have never been a slave to carnal needs. However, there is something abouthera skirt, the way her hips sway hypnotically left to right, the click of her heels on the marble floors, that has me thinking all manner of carnal things—all of themwildlyimproper.
The moment I step inside her small office, I am inundated with them. Visions of me spreading her out on her desk, clearing it dramatically with a sweep of my warm. I imagine sitting behind my own desk with her on her knees for me, that pink mouth popped open, waiting for me to shove past her lips so she can please me like a good little girl.
Who am I right now?
Ten minutes ago, I was an upstanding guy who came to talk about a business I want to build with my brothers. Now, as I take a seat across from the beauty who just twisted my head up, I am not sure where that guy went. My hands flex anxiously, I bounce a knee as I watch her open the portfolio we sent over last week. My gaze traces the gentle line of her neck, across her collar, down between her breasts. I bite back a groan when I see the faintest hint of nipple through her cream blouse. Lord help me.
"Mr. Brant...I have read the portfolio you presented. I see the numbers. All the pieces, the parts you want a bank to see. How about all the important pieces. Tell me about your brothers, what you want to build with them."
Swallowing hard, I nod. That, I can do. "I am the oldest, but it is not that obvious once you see us together. Dexter is the ringleader as it were, he is the one we look to for, I guess, guidance, he is the idea man. Ethan is kind of our heart, a conscience for all of us. Tanner is...well, Tanner. I guess I round us out, I am best at making decisions, choosing the right contracts."
"Yet you came to ask for a loan and thought it was a good decision to insult the loan officer," she accuses with a little smirk. It should not be so fucking cute that she is condescending to me, but it is. That’s a new thing.
"I was not insulting you, Ms. Carter," I argue, truly wanting her to understand I was surprised by her, not bothered that a woman has the final decision in the future of Brant Brother’s Construction. "I was just surprised. I know Mr. Tomford, he has known us most of our lives, I just thought..."
Sitting forward she cocks her head at me, those pretty eyes narrowing. If looks could kill, I’d be decimated. "You just thought a good ol’ boy would never think of turning down a loan for a bunch of local good kids, yeah?"
Frowning, I sit forward too. "Ms. Carter," I let the formality hang in the air a moment. "We are, in fact,goodlocal kids. Grew up here, learned to swing a hammer with our pop, celebrated our parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary with half of the town who loves them, and we work for free so often we’ve yet to turn an actual profit. We love what we do, we want to do it together, to build something good and worthwhile here in True Ridge."
"Mr. Brant, I am sure you..."
Holding up my hand, I cut her off. "I am not sure how often you deal with chauvinists or pricks pretending to be good ol’ boys. That ain’t us, that ain’t me, you took me by surprise because....well, because you’re the most beautiful creature I haveever laid eyes on and it took me a moment to believe you were not a figment of my very lonesome imagination," I admit without a dose of restraint.
"Mr. Brant, that is not even remotely..."
Once again, I cut her off, reaching across the desk to take the folder from her. "Proper? I am well aware, Ms. Carter, of how improper my words seem. How improper my thoughts became the moment I saw you. Doesn’t change any of it. I am not here to beg for a damn thing. We can find another bank who gives a toss about what we want to do with Brant Brothers Construction instead of judging me for being a little...stupefied."
"Do you believe tossing some compliments at me will forgive your sexist assumptions aboutdealingwith a woman? You sit there glowering in your thousand-dollar suit with your hand out to this bank, Mr. Brant, but let’s get one thing straight: equality isn't about you'accepting' that I can do my job despite being a woman. It’s about the fact that what’s between my legs shouldn’t have crossed your mind in the first place. Clearly, itdid—which tells me all I need to know about you."
Standing, I loom over her desk, breathing heavily because there is something hot as hell about arguing with her. "Oh, Ms. Carter, I most definitely thought about what is between your thighs. My preference would be me, since we’re on the subject. Though I am not sure you could handle what I would do to you," I hurl the words at her almost as if I am making a threat. I guess in a way, I am. I am threatening her with a damn good time.
"See yourself out, Mr. Brant. I will let Mr. Tomford know about the status of your loan request. Let you two good ol’ boys chat about it."
Letting out a huff of a sound, I spin on my heel to march out of her office. Before I do, I turn back once more. Partly to get another good, long look at her because, Jesus she is something else. Also, to unnerve her because I have this sneaking suspicionthat this entire exchange turned her on as much as it has me. I let my gaze eat her up, not even trying to hide it now.
My gaze drops to her name placard on her desk. Maren Carter. Our gazes meet, hers flaring bright blue, her chest rising, falling, her skin flushed. Oh, sweet Maren, I am in deep trouble. Because all I want to do is storm across the office to slam my mouth to hers. I want to shut her up. I want to make her get loud for me, call my name out as I please her, I want her to forget all about this stupid meeting and just see me as I am.
Alone, needy, absolutely enchanted by her. I have never felt this sort of thing before. I think briefly about my parents. With a hard cock and arousal pumping through my veins, it is a weird time to think about their romance but here I am. Wondering if Pop had it right all along.
Perhaps I met Ms. Carter exactly when I was meant to.
Chapter Two
Maren
Being a woman in business is such a bitch.
I am just as smart as my counterparts—smarter than some of them. I am good at making decisions, I know when to take a gamble on someone. It is almost sixth sense—to know when to walk away. Yet because I look good in a skirt, love my sexy heels, and refuse to cower to a boy's club I am rarely taken seriously.
"No, Mr. Wade, it was not an open credit line. There is a limit to it, which you surpassed about ten thousand dollars ago. That means your loan is in default which means you will be hearing from our lawyers as well as the law if you do not enter into a payment agreement, sir."
Sighing as the man on the other end, who I suspect is a bit of a con man, prattles off all the reasons I am wrong, I spin in my chair. I have no time for his whining or wallowing. My entire day is booked with meetings with loan request clients, a budget meeting at the courthouse for a new proposed wing, and a follow-up with bank manager Mr. Tomford.
