He was staring at me hotly. I could feel myself getting flustered, but self-control, self-control, self-control. I whispered it inside my head like it was my mantra and carried on. I had to keep talking. If I stopped, he’d take control and that’d be the end of anything I was trying to do.
“I think, if we could come up with at least three special offers for special occasions like the bachelorettes and milestone birthdays, we could be onto something. There’s easily enough space for three offers on the back of an average A5 flier.”
“Mia.” West grabbed my hand.
I stilled, looking up at him from beneath my lashes.
“You haven’t looked at me since we left the bank, and as much as I appreciate your efficiency, I’m already lost.”
“Sorry.” I tried to scoot my hand out of his grip, but he had it too tight. “I tend to ramble when I get a train of thought.”
“Did you say you’re going back to San Diego on Saturday?” He leaned forward, his eyes on mine.
“Yeah.” I dragged my lower lip between my teeth. “Is that okay? I mean, I have a dress fitting, and I kept forgetting to ask you...”
His lips tugged up on one side. “You don’t need to ask me, angel. I’ve hired you, but you’re still freelance. I understand you have commitments you can’t change.”
“Thank you. Allie was gonna kick my ass.” Right after I’d kicked hers.
“I actually have family in Imperial Beach. My grandparents retired there fifteen years ago.”
“Oh?” My eyebrows moved up. “I love it there. We spent a lot of time trying and failing to surf as kids. More failing happened than trying, but we gave it a good shot.”
“I can’t imagine you surfing.”
I must have looked affronted, because he laughed, rubbing his hand over his mouth.
“No. I don’t mean it like that,” he said. “I’m just used to seeing you all dressed up or...not at all. Wearing a bikini seems like a strange middle ground.”
My cheeks flushed. I wished they’d stop doing that whenever he said stuff like that.
“Stop trying to make me let go of your hand. You should know by now that I’ll let go when I want to let go.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I need it to type. And one of your staff is right over there.” I nodded back to the bar where Ms. Not So Happy was. The cleaning lady had apparently finished and disappeared.
“I own this building. If I want to pick you up, throw you in the middle of the stage, and strip to my boxers to give you a lap dance, I fucking well can.”
“West. Inappropriate.” I coughed in the hope it’d hide the second heating of my cheeks.
He grinned, finally releasing my hand—only to cup the back of my neck and lean in. I froze as his lips brushed my ear.
“And so was me coming down your throat last night. But I bet, if I teased you enough, you’d do it again right now.”
I shook my head. Who the hell was I trying to convince? I had tingles radiating across my skin from where he was touching me, and my lungs burned through the thundering of my heart.
I wouldn’t.
Would I?
“See?” His low voice rumbled across my skin, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. “You can’t even deny it.”
I bit down on my lower lip, dropping my eyes.
He tugged on that lip with his other thumb, cupped my chin, and forced me to look into his eyes. “And, now, I want to kiss you.”
I inhaled sharply and looked back down. “You can’t.”
“I could if we took this upstairs.”
Again, I shook my head.
“Anyone would think you’re afraid to be alone with me.”
I snapped my gaze up to his, and honestly, I answered, “I am.”
He held my gaze for a long moment, stroking his thumb against the side of my neck. It tickled, but I dared not laugh. I stayed, captive in the swirling mass of blue eyes that’d hypnotized me so many times before, and tried to remember how to breathe.
It didn’t feel like I was.
It felt as though the unconscious action had become all too conscious.
Tish’s voice rang out and broke through the moment. “West?”
West dropped his hand to the back of my chair, cutting eye contact off. “Yeah?”
“I’m done setting up. I’ll be back at three.”
“Come back in a better mood or don’t bother,” he warned her.
“Yeah, sure.”
I turned my head to watch as she grabbed her things and headed for the door.
“Tish? Did Sally leave?” he asked before she’d opened it.
“About five minutes before you got back. Why?”
“Just wondering. Can you lock the door? Ms. O’Halloran and I have a lot to discuss and I’d rather not be interrupted by anyone hoping to get the party started early.”
“No problem.” She smiled and then disappeared through it.
The click of the lock was deafening.
We were alone.
The thing I was afraid of.
Because I knew—and he knew—that resisting him was virtually futile. Sooner or later, I would have to give in.
Later seemed to be getting sooner and sooner, and I didn’t know what to think of it.