Her head whips up in my direction with doe eyes; maybe she translates it to something underlying, and judging by the tug on her lips, she seems to enjoy that. “Uh… so law and your sister. The soft attributes of Keats.”
I mosey to the desk and land myself on the opposite side then tower over her with my palms planted on the wood. “Don’t worry. I’m anything but soft in other areas,” I hiss playfully.
Esme takes a deep breath. “I… will not be imagining that.”
Liar.
“How are you so familiar with this place?”
A coy smile breaks out on her face. “I once had a photoshoot here.”
“Didn’t think this was the place for those kinds of photos.”
She lifts her shoulders. “Yeah, well, you can rent out the spaces here. And if you are wondering, it was there.” Her finger wiggles, pointing behind me. “Where a woman laid down in nothing but lingerie,” she husks.
My lips press together, and I nod slowly. Our eyes strike for a second in a dare. I’m too confident, and I’m the first to move my way to the couch and ceremonially sit down. Esme follows and flops down next to me.
“I don’t intend to search this whole building, so let’s just go back empty-handed. I doubt anyone would be surprised.”
“Agreed,” she replies.
“Ooh, look at us agreeing.”
She tries to hide her grin but fails. “Champagne does silly things.”
Resting my elbow on the back of the smooth maroon leather sofa, I get comfortable. Doesn’t seem as though we will be leaving anytime soon, especially when she brings her knees to rest on the cushion, with clearly no plans to scoot away.
I gulp and send a quick memo to my dick to keep it down because Esme is wearing fucking stockings with a garter belt. I know because I get a dangerous glimpse of her upper thigh. “I’m a gentleman, therefore I shall point out that I can see a hell of a lot of your leg.”Yet not enough.
Esme appears unfazed and completely satisfied that she’s taunting me. “You shouldn’t be concerned, since you want to throttle me.”
“Fair.” Except not adjusting her leg is playing against the rules.
She taps the armrest with the pads of her fingers, maybe trying to come up with a topic to discuss.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Her grin is sinful. “I’m just remembering how on the very place you’re sitting a woman once splayed out her body wearing next to nothing, which I’m sure thrills you.”
I ignore her attempts to goad me. “Why did you get into photography?”
Her fingers now play with her long costume pearls. “Easy. There is something heartwarming watching a couple getting engaged and in the bliss of wedding preparation, and boudoir is a celebration of confidence and self-love.”
My jaw flexes side to side. “No sarcasm from my end. Those are actually good reasons, honest, too.”
“And you? Why law?”
“Easy. I enjoy the fine print of legal proceedings, pushing back when needed, the thrill of closing a deal. Why sports? I grew up in Lake Spark, the Spinners are our pride. Nah, I played hockey in high school, varsity, too.”
She snorts a laugh. “For some reason that doesn’t surprise me. Were you valedictorian, too?”
I shake my head ruefully. “Actually, no. High school hockey isn’t that popular in Illinois unless you go to a private prep school, and that was Lake Spark Academy. The hockey team kind of got away with a lot, including letting grades slip. My studious days were later in college.”
“Keats was once a jock. I do like hockey, I admit. Sometimes I even watch it. Growing up in Minnesota, it’s a popular sport. You can never go wrong watching hot guys on the ice, either… unless it’s you.”
A laugh escapes me. “Ah, so is watching hockey like an ‘every once in a while, go to a game’ kind of thing or ‘watch the highlights in the morning from last night’s games’ kind of thing?”
“Depends on my mood.”
