“I want between them.”
Oookay. That sounded enticing. He still firmly clasped her nape, making it impossible for her to look away. He saw everything she felt, probably read in her eyes everything she considered. Just to throw him off, she smiled...and slid her knees apart.
“Good.” He pushed up the slim skirt she’d changed into, then widened her legs farther by stepping between them.
The denim of his jeans felt rough against her inner thighs.
So did the free hand he traveled up the inside of her knee.
The sensation of his calloused fingertips firm on her sensitive flesh, along with the probing force of his dark brown gaze, made her eyes heavy.
As if he knew it, he whispered, “Keep them open.” To ensure he had her attention, he brushed his knuckles over the crotch of her silken panties.
Like a bolt of lightning, the touch sizzled all along her nerve endings, making her gasp and bringing a flush to her skin.
“So hot,” he whispered, still idly stroking. “I’d like to make you wet, too.”
She was getting there pretty quickly already.
When Enoch’s voice came through the intercom, she jumped.
“Mr. Delamore is here, Ms. Silver.”
Brand slowly withdrew his hand and, with attention to detail, carefully straightened her hair, when she hadn’t even realized it was mussed. “Mr. Delamore?” he asked with more than idle curiosity.
“Prospective client.” Her voice trembled as surely as her limbs. Wishing it wasn’t so, she explained, “We had an appointment.”
“Tell Enoch to give you three minutes.”
Nodding, she started to stand, but Brand shook his head. “You can reach the intercom.”
Another challenge, and this one was harder to meet because she felt like warm gelatin. She reached out a hand for the intercom button, was still a few inches away and ended up leaning back on an elbow, practically sprawled on her desk—with Brand standing between her legs, his hands holding her hips.
Trying to steady her voice, she touched the button and replied, hopefully in her usual no-nonsense tone, “Apologize for the delay, but I’ll need five more minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The deference Enoch adopted for clients usually struck her as funny, but not this time. When she started to rise, Brand leaned into her, balancing himself on his outstretched arms at either side of her shoulders.
“I told you three minutes.”
Rather than fight the inevitable, she relaxed her spine and accepted that, in this instance, Brand had won. “I’ll need two extra to recover.”
His attention was focused on her mouth. “One more kiss then, before I let you get back to work.”
“Yes.” She’d love one more kiss. Or a hundred more, even.
“First, though, tell me you’re okay with me staying the night.”
Blackmail? He knew how badly she wanted that kiss. “Will there be more teasing?”
“That’s up to you.” As soon as he said it, he took her mouth in a kiss that left her gasping. She found herself flat on her back, his body meshed with hers from the junction of her legs all the way up to her breasts.
She’d never look at her desk the same way again.
Smiling down at her, he promised, “We’ll discuss teasing, and more, tonight.”
Damn him, how did he recover so easily? Still breathing heavily, she nodded. “Okay.”
He tenderly cupped her face. “What time will you finish up?”
“Seven.”
“And you won’t be leaving the office?”
She shook her head.
“Promise me?”
If he worked for her, she’d take him to task for that. But as he forever pointed out, he wasn’t yet an employee so she only said, “I don’t lie.” Not over something so trivial, anyway.
He pressed his mouth to hers one last time, then straightened, bringing her up with him and helping her to her feet. “I’ll be back here before seven, then.”
So he was leaving again? “Where are you going now?”
His fingertips grazed her cheek. “Leese is going to show me around. If you need me, I’ll be nearby.”
She liked how often he touched her, how he touched her, how he looked at her... Then what he said sank in. Leese was showing him around? For what reason? “Are you considering—”
“We’ll talk tonight.”
With her heart punching, she watched him walk out.
She couldn’t wait for the opportunity to get some answers. But for now, knowing he’d have to pass the wealthy and snobbish Mr. Delamore amused her as she imagined the much smaller man’s reaction to Brand’s rugged, intimidating presence.
Mr. Delamore. She probably only had a minute left, so she darted into her attached bathroom and straightened her clothes, tidied her hair once more and repaired her makeup.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a thing she could do about the aroused flush to her skin.
Not yet. But tonight she’d have Brand all to herself. They’d talk...and then she’d explain to him how it had to be.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“HELL OF A SETUP.” After going through the on-site gym with state-of-the-art equipment, not only for a workout but also to hone specific skills, Brand didn’t think he could be further impressed.
Then they reached the shooting range in the basement.
It appeared to run the length of the building with at least twenty stalls so that a group of people could practice shooting at the same time. An electric target retrieval system made it easy to trade out for new targets when practicing with different guns. Bullet berms cut down on ricochets, and rubber-padded walls cut down on noise.
Leese walked him to the selection of weapons, manned by two attendants who made sure everything went back to where it belonged. “Damn near any firearm you can imagine is available for practice shooting. You can’t take them out of here, but we come in early, sometimes stay late, to keep sharp. It gives me a chance to see how other guns feel. I prefer a 9 mm semiautomatic to a revolver, but I’m proficient with .40 and .45 caliber semiautomatics, too.”
Brand nodded. “I’ve shot just about everything there is, from a small .380 to the Dirty Harry .44 Magnum.” He grinned at Leese. “My dad—” actually his uncle “—has always collected guns. I grew up on fifty acres, and shooting cans off a fence was a daily exercise.”
“Is he still collecting?”
“Yeah.” During his last visit a week ago, his mom had practically force-fed him her special chocolate cake while his dad had showed off three new “treasures.” “Mom says he has an accumulation, not a collection, because most of them aren’t worth all that much. He started with the rifle he used as a kid, then inherited a few pieces from his dad and it went on from there.”
Grinning, Leese asked, “Is he a survivalist?”
Brand laughed. “He could be. I mean, if Armageddon came, Dad’s someone you’d want in your corner. But he doesn’t have an underground shelter and he’s not hoarding canned goods or anything like that. Mostly he just likes to know that he could make it if the power grid failed.”
Leese led him to a selection of earplugs, safety goggles and target ammo. “How come we’ve never met your folks?”
Unwilling to dwell on the deeper reasons, Brand went with the surface excuses. “They live in Kentucky. I get down there every month or so, but Mom was in a car wreck a decade ago, broke several bones, hurt her back and now she has some trouble getting around.”
“Damn, that’s rough.”
Miles came down the steps just as they were ready to start up. “Took the tour, huh? What do you think?”
“It’s pretty awesome.”
“An understatement,” Miles said. “Blew me away when I first saw everything. And so far the jobs have been terrific. Plus Sahara works with me so that I don’t have to be away from Maxi too often.”