“You’ve made that clear.”
“Have I? Because you’re still looking at me like you’re mentally calculating how quickly you could clear my desk.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. Good. I wanted to rattle that perfect composure, to see the cracks in his control. It was perversely satisfying, like messing up a perfectly made bed.
“I assure you, Ms. Landry, I’m perfectly capable of maintaining professional boundaries.” His voice was cool, but there was a roughness at the edges that hadn’t been there before.
“Oh really? Is that why you had your hand up my dress three days ago?” I crossed my arms, hating how my body reacted to the memory, a flush of heat that started low in my belly and spread outward. “Is that why I’ve had to wear concealer on my neck like I’m hiding a teenage hickey?”
His eyes darkened as they dropped to the spot on my neck, now carefully covered. “You weren’t exactly pushing me away,” he countered, his voice dropping to that low register that did dangerous things to my resolve. “In fact, I distinctly remember you pulling me closer.”
“That’s not the point. The point is, we’re rivals. Competitors. We’re fighting for the same contract, and anything... physical... between us complicates that.”
“So you’re proposing...”
“Complete professional distance. No touching. No kissing. No... wall incidents. Professional like you said at the beginning.”
Hudson studied me for a long moment, his green eyes unreadable. “And if I disagree?”
My heart stuttered. “You don’t get to disagree. This isn’t a negotiation.”
“Everything’s a negotiation, Landry.” The way he said my name made me shiver. Like he tasted it. “But fine. I’ll respect your boundaries.”
“Good.”
“On one condition.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What condition?”
“You admit that what happened wasn’t just me.”
“Well, I remember you making the first move, and?—”
“And you practically fucked me with your eyes. How else was I supposed to respond?” He took a step toward me. “Admit you’re attracted to me.”
“No. I’m not attracted to you.” Lie. “I was not fucking you with my eyes.” Lie. “And even if I did, you had no right to kiss me like that. We slept together once. There was an attraction, but not anymore.” Lie. “The sex was fine, but?—”
“Phenomenal,” he corrected, and the hint of smugness in his voice made me want to strangle him. Or climb him like a tree. Maybe both.
“—but that changes nothing.”
“Why are you bothering to lie? We both know that what happened the night before the expo was?—”
“A mistake!” I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. “Look, this contract is everything to me. It’s the difference between the Chicago expansion succeeding or failing. My business partner is depending on me. I can’t risk that for a few orgasms, no matter how hypothetically mind-blowing they might be.” Though the orgasm-to-risk ratio was getting more appealing by the second. Especially when he looked me up and down like he wanted to go round two on top of my handy-dandy sign. A little “fuck you” to my flimsy boundaries.
“Mrs. Burkhardt is depending on you?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. Anica believes in me.”
When he spoke next, I detected no sarcasm. “Of course she does. Did you get that loan from the bank?” His abrupt change in topics had me blinking several times, calming the fire he’d stoked within me.
“How did you?—”
“We’re sharing an office, and I’m not as dense as you seem to think I am. Besides, it’s all in the way you tense up whenever funding is mentioned. How you calculate every expense down to the penny. The extra calls you take in the hallway.”
I sank back into my chair, deflated. Was I that transparent? “The bank put our loan on hold. They want proof we can succeed in the Chicago market before they’ll reconsider.”
“And the Kussikov-Martin wedding would bethat proof.”
