I leaned over and pressed a kiss to her neck.
“I said professional,” she told me.
“I am professionally kissing you,” I murmured, my hand sliding up from her hip to caress her breast. “If I was unprofessionally kissing you, you’d be begging me to go down on you right here.”
“The corgis?” Ivy said pointedly.
“You know, I’m a little disappointed you aren’t falling off of your barstool with lust,” I said, leaning against the bar top.
“I told you, I deal with a lot of good-looking and rich men,” she said tartly. “You’re hardly novel.”
“I used to date a lot of supermodels—” I began. Ivy narrowed her eyes, and I grinned at her. “And I am so tired of them. You are a welcome difference. I find everything about you desirable.”
The bartender interrupted Ivy before she could retort, and she ordered a sweet-sounding craft cocktail, while I ordered my usual Scotch.
“Ready to give up on weddings yet?” I asked her. “We could run away together. They’re selling castles for cheap in Scotland.”
Her eyes lit up. “I could turn that into an awesome wedding venue!”
“No! No weddings. That wasn’t the point of my suggestion.”
“Speaking of,” Ivy said, taking out her sparkly notebook.
I groaned.
“You called me here about the corgis,” she reminded me.
“Actually, I called you here under false pretenses. Truly, my only intentions were to entice you into no-strings-attached sex.”
Her eyes went wide and then narrowed. “I’m in business mode right now,” she said, flipping to a new page in her notebook.
“And maybe if we resolve it quickly, you’ll give into the sexual heat I’m emitting?” I suggested, leaning into her.
She tapped me on the nose with her pen. “Maybe. Depends on if I like your answers on the dogs.”
“You won’t.” I grimaced. “Mika has reserved three litters of puppies. To be fair, corgis are so squat that it’s like four puppies a litter.”
“And Imogen wants three hundred,” Ivy said, downing her drink.
I signaled the bartender for another.
“I’m not going out there and buying corgis,” I told her. “Imogen and my stepmother have Mika wrapped around their fingers. She’s so programmed to do whatever Imogen wants, under the guise of being a good sister, that she’s going to do her best to procure all those dogs. But don’t worry,” I told Ivy, sliding her new drink across the bar top to her. “I have a plan.”
“You have a plan?” She raised an eyebrow and sipped her cocktail.
“The best plan.”
“Can I hear it?”
“No, it’s a surprise. Just know I have it taken care of.”
Ivy regarded me critically. “It doesn’t involve live animals, does it?”
“Nope! So now that I’ve put your mind at ease, are you drunk, relaxed, and relieved enough to let me give you the most mind-blowing sex of your life?” I leaned over to press my mouth to hers, kissing her softly then harder, slipping my tongue into her mouth. She moaned slightly.
Rebound sex, here I come!
“We really shouldn’t,” she murmured.
