“Well, that makes one of us,” she whispered. “That shouldn’t have happened. It was unprofessional, and for what it’s worth, I’m embarrassed and hope you’ll understand that this was a misstep on my part and not a reflection on the Belles.”
“Oh for God’s sake, you really think I care that you’re—”
“Planning your sister’s wedding?” she interrupted, finally forcing herself to look at him. “Because I am. And if sticking your tongue in my mouth was some messed-up attempt to bring me around to your way of thinking about stopping the wedding . . .”
Seth’s expression went from icy to furious in a second. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. That kiss was about a man and a woman who wanted each other, but by all means, keep lying to yourself. You’re good at it.”
His words struck a chord. Big-time.
Brooke turned on her five-inch heel and marched toward the elevator.
She half expected him to call her back. Maybe even follow her.
Instead, she heard the door slam shut a second before a messy-sounding thud hit it, and she knew the expensive takeout had just been hurled against the door.
Had she not been in so much turmoil, she might have smirked at the fact that the ice king had a temper.
Instead she stepped into the elevator, turning to face the closing doors before she slowly lifted a hand to cover her face, as she wondered what the hell she had just done.
Chapter Seventeen
BROOKE HAD BECOME ACCUSTOMED to the Wedding Belles offices being a women-only zone.
Sure, there were the reluctant grooms who stopped by from time to time, and the occasional father of the bride.
Or even more unusual, the brother of the bride.
A brother who had piercing blue eyes and a sharp tongue and was the best damn kisser she’d ever encountered.
Brooke shook her head to banish the thoughts. Nope. No way.
She’d done a hell of a lot of thinking over the weekend and had decided to forgive herself for kissing the guy. Mistakes happened, and beating herself up over it would help no one.
But . . . neither was she going to put herself in the situation where they could have a repeat scenario. Since she was clearly incapable of maintaining professional distance with Seth, she’d have to put actual distance between them.
She wasn’t exactly looking forward to having this conversation with Alexis, but she hoped being up front about the conflict of interests might earn her brownie points with her new boss.
So Brooke had deliberately gotten to the office early, knowing that Alexis started her workday at the ungodly hour of seven and hoping to catch her before the usual bustle of the day started.
Only, it wasn’t her boss who stood in the quiet reception area of the Belles’ office.
It was a man.
She skidded to a halt, blinking in surprise at the dark-haired guy rummaging around in Jessie’s desk. He glanced up, straightening glasses with one hand as the other held a yellow sticky notepad he’d just pulled out of a drawer.
“Oh, hello there,” he said with a slight smile. “You must be Ms. Baldwin.”
Oh yummy. The man was handsome and British.
“That’s me. Although, I’m afraid you’re a step ahead of me,” she said with a cautious smile, still a little unsure who he was or what he was doing here.
“Right. Of course.” He came around the side of the desk, and Brooke was impressed to see that in addition to the sexy glasses, chiseled jaw, and moody brown eyes, he also wore his navy pinstripe suit quite well.
The man had it going on, in a bookish, quiet kind of way.
“I’m Logan Harris. The Belles’ accountant.”
“Oh!” Brooke said, shaking his extended hand. “Somehow I just assumed Alexis handled all of the books herself.”
He smiled rakishly. “That’s what she wants everyone to think.”
Brooke laughed, because it was clear this man knew her boss well. “Where does she keep you, chained up in the basement with one of those old-school visors?”
“Please don’t tell her I’ve escaped. I just wanted a bit of sunlight.”
“And a sticky pad, apparently,” Brooke said, gesturing at his left hand.
“So I can write my SOS message,” he replied.
Brooke giggled. Yes, giggled. She’d always been a sucker for accents. What woman wasn’t?
“Seriously though,” she said, “how come I haven’t seen you around?”
He shrugged. “Alexis and I meet twice a week, but always before eight. It works best for both our schedules.”
“An accountant that does house calls. I’m impressed,” Brooke said, taking a sip of the latte she’d picked up on the way in.
“Most clients come to my office downtown. But Alexis and I go way back.”
“Huh,” Brooke said, studying the man more closely. His tone was completely professional, but there was something there . . . an intensity when he spoke of Alexis.
And speak of the devil . . .
There was the familiar click-click-click of Alexis’s stiletto heels coming down the staircase. “Logan, did you find—Oh! Hi, Brooke.”
“Morning,” Brooke said, drawing out the word and searching her boss for any sign that there’d been hanky-panky with the handsome Brit but finding none. Alexis was every bit as put together as always. Not a strand out of place, no lipstick smudge, no misaligned buttons.