“Bullshit.”
Morgan wavered for a moment, then sniffed and gave a careless toss of her head. “If you must know, Isaiah has been working a lot of hours and breaking dates. He, ah, needs a gentle reminder not to take me for granted.”
One corner of River’s mouth quirked upward, such an innately Brand gesture that Zandra couldn’t help smiling. “So you wanna use me to make him jealous. Is that it?”
Morgan blushed, biting her lip. “Oh, just forget it.”
“Nah. Too late to back out now. I’m taking you.”
“Fine. Start by taking me out to lunch, and we can discuss our arrangement.”
“Lunch, huh?” He gave her a slow, deliberate perusal and drawled, “Yeah. You could use a good steak.”
“Excuse me?” Morgan sputtered indignantly. “Is that a crack about my weight?”
“No crack. Just an observation.” He gestured to indicate that she should precede him from the room. “After you.”
Morgan glanced back at Zandra, her dark eyes twinkling. “Sorry for costing you a client.”
Zandra laughed. “Oh, I think I can forgive you.”
Morgan grinned. “You and Remy enjoy your love trip.”
“Yeah,” River added, winking at Zandra. “Have fun.”
“Thanks, guys. You, too.”
They left, River staring appreciatively at Morgan’s backside.
Zandra grinned after them.
It appeared that Morgan was about to fall victim to the same Brand magnetism that had not only ensnared her sister, but Zandra, as well.
She sighed, shaking her head.
God help us, Morgan. God help us both.
Chapter Seventeen
Zandra hummed Adele’s “Chasing Pavements” as she strolled along London’s Regent Street, passing upscale shops and outlet stores housed in elegant buildings. It was the second full day of her trip to England, and she was on her own.
After the way she’d behaved during Remy’s speech yesterday, he’d forbade her from attending his panel session that morning.
The memory of what led to her banishment brought a wicked grin to Zandra’s face.
After arriving in London late Tuesday evening, she and Remy had been too weary from their travels to do much more than check into their luxurious hotel suite, order dinner and fall asleep in each other’s arms. They’d awakened early the next morning and shared a steamy, decadent shower before breakfast was delivered—hot porridge, fresh fruit and coffee. After they ate, they’d quickly dressed and taken a chauffeured car to the conference hotel for Remy’s scheduled presentation.
The ballroom had been filled to capacity, but Remy had already reserved a front-row seat for Zandra. She’d sat down, crossed her legs and focused intently on his handsome face as he began speaking authoritatively about the global landscape of terrorism. The audience was riveted, hanging on to his every word. And Zandra had been fascinated, too—until the deep, masculine timbre of his voice started doing things to her.
Wicked, dirty things.
Before she knew it she was imagining the rough stroke of his hands on her body...his mouth between her thighs...his tongue licking the moist flesh of her *.
As a hungry ache spread from her pelvis to her breasts, she’d uncrossed and crossed her legs, inadvertently drawing Remy’s attention.
Their eyes had met and held.
She’d bit her lower lip, taken a shallow breath. The inhalation sent his gaze lower, to her breasts. Without glancing down, she’d known that her nipples were thrusting brazenly against her blouse.
Remy’s nostrils had flared, his hands curling around the edges of the wooden lectern. Just a brief clenching of fingers, but it was enough to send a naughty thrill of excitement through her.