We were being led out of the room, down a corridor and into another room. It was dimly lit. It reminded me of those gentleman’s club spaces. Dark, opulent furnishings. Floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books. A distinct faint smell of cigars and alcohol. Not unpleasant.
Then another man appeared. He looked officious and was full of apology. He mentioned the man’s name, but I didn’t catch it. The guy was saying, ‘If you can get me a fresh shirt, we can take it from here.’
The manager left and closed the door. The guy turned around to face me. In fairness he looked pretty mortified. ‘I’m so sorry about that. If it’s any consolation, she didn’t mean to throw her drink at you.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I saw that someone bumped her. I think she got more of a fright.’
‘You’re taking this very well.’
I shrugged and peeled off his jacket, handing it back to him. ‘It was an accident. Maybe that’ll have shocked her out of her crush.’
Although I couldn’t entirely blame the woman after that kiss.
But he wasn’t taking his jacket, he was looking at me. Or, more accurately, at my chest. I looked down. The already flimsy material now stuck to my breasts and torso, and my nipples were two hard points pushing flagrantly against the silk. I might as well be naked.
‘Shit.’ I turned around, dropping his jacket as I did so.
He said, ‘No, this is my fault. Here, I was going to give you my shirt – I figured you’d need to cover your top half. They’re getting me a new one.’
Was he...taking his shirt off? I sneaked a look behind me to see that his bow-tie was undone, he was pulling it off and undoing his shirt. I faced him, crossing my arms over my chest. ‘That’s really not necessary.’
‘I insist.’
His was pulling his shirt open now and I swear to God my ovaries stood to attention when his chest was revealed. It was wide and muscled, not an ounce of excess flesh, and there was a six pack and a flat torso, and the tantalising line of hair disappearing under the top of his trousers to where there was a distinct bulge. Was that him at rest or – I looked back up, face flaming.
I grabbed the shirt he was holding out as much to distract from my shameless ogling as anything else.
I turned around again and pulled the shirt on over the dress. It was still warm and that felt ridiculously intimate. I closed a middle button, sufficient to cover me up again.
When I turned around he’d moved and was over by a cabinet. His naked back was almost as provocative as his chest. Broad and gleaming. Tapering down to those narrow hips.
He turned around and was holding up a bottle. ‘Whiskey. Want some?’
‘Sure,’ I said. Maybe the drink would help to transport me back to reality.
He came over with two tumbler glasses and handed me one. He said, ‘Slaínte.’
I echoed him and took a sip. The liquid burnt its way down my throat. ‘You’re Irish?’
‘Born and bred in Dublin, but half Scottish. I’ve lived here since I left university. Your accent is Scottish?’
I nodded. ‘I grew up near Edinburgh, but I’ve lived down south since going to university in Bristol.’
The material of the dress was clinging uncomfortably to my skin, clammy and cold. Sticky. ‘I think I need to rearrange the clothing a little.’ I put the glass down on a table and moved away to the window.
Chapter 4
Brodie
Brodie was looking at her as she walked over to a corner near the windows. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and he said, ‘Shit, sorry, turning around.’
What the hell was wrong with him? He was behaving like a virgin who’d never been alone in a room with a woman before. But all he could see in his mind’s eye was the tantalising vision of that red silk material plastered to her body like a second skin, clearly outlining the perfection of two small but lush breasts, tipped with berry nipples. Hard.
Had she been as affected as him by that kiss? A kiss that had rapidly gone from damage control to an inferno of need? He’d forgotten all about why he’d even kissed her in the first place until Cecily had made her presence known, at least now his boss’s wife might be mortified enough to leave him alone and stop coming on to him.
And it was at that moment that he realised there was a mirror in the drinks cabinet where he’d just helped himself to the whiskey and he could see the woman reflected. She’d taken off the shirt and was pulling the flimsy straps of the dress down and taking her arms out, so that the top of the dress was down around her waist.
Her back was long and slim. Her neck long and graceful. Her waist was narrow and flared out gently... Then as if she could sense him watching her like a pervert, she pulled the shirt back on. Brodie cursed again. He closed his eyes.
