Playing With Seduction

He could only imagine what she was thinking. No point in trying to dissuade her. Besides, he didn’t owe her an explanation. Wes ran a hand over his head. “Yeah, I have. It’ll be good to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

Her cheeks turned crimson. She bit the corner of her lip. The deep red lip color highlighted how kissable her lips were. A fact to which he could attest. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” He reached into the backseat of the car and pulled out two grocery bags. “But I have to get these groceries in the fridge. Mind stepping inside while I put them away?”

Her hair wasn’t pulled back into the severe bun she’d worn earlier in the week. Loose curls cascaded over her right shoulder. She shook her head, and the curls bounced. He balled his fingers into a fist at his side at the thought of fisting a handful of her luxurious hair and taking her from behind. He swallowed, his mouth dry.

“You cook?”

He laughed. “A guy’s gotta eat, right?”

“Our meals are being comped.” He could hear the click of her heels against the concrete as she followed him up the path to his door.

“I know, but I felt like throwing a steak on the grill.”

“In February?”

“When a February day is as beautiful as this one, why not?”

* * *

Bree followed him into the kitchen and stood beside the counter making idle chitchat as he put away the groceries. Apologizing was the right thing to do. She believed that. So why was it so difficult to say the words? The words of apology had been lodged in her throat since she noticed he was wearing the same clothes from earlier in the week. He smelled like soap. The utilitarian kind you bought in bulk. A familiar scent. It was all her family could afford when she was growing up. So he’d showered, but he’d been too preoccupied to return here for a change of clothing.

The thought of him spending the past two nights in someone else’s bed caused a tightness in her chest that made it hard to breathe deeply. Which was silly. Why should it matter what Wesley Adams did in his spare time and with whom? Her only concern was his actions relating to the event. As long as he nailed this event, he could bang the entire eastern seaboard for all she cared.

The sound of Wes shutting the refrigerator door broke in to her thoughts. He gestured for her to take a seat in the living room. She sank into the cushion of the blue checkered sofa and crossed her legs.

She followed his gaze, which traveled the length of her long legs. His tongue darted out to quickly wet his lips before he dragged his gaze back to hers. “You wanted to talk?”

Her pulse quickened and she smiled inwardly. He still found her attractive. A small vindication.

Bree clasped her hands in her lap, looking down at them for a moment before raising her eyes to his. “I wanted to apologize for how I came off the other day. It was childish and petty. This project is important to both of us. If we’re going to work together, I don’t want things to be weird between us. So I wanted to clear the air by saying I’m sorry.”

Wes seemed pleasantly surprised by her apology. He scooted forward on the couch and gave her a sheepish smile. “I accept your apology, but only if you’ll accept mine. I wanted to call, I just...” He sighed, then scooted back on the couch again. His tone turned more serious. “Didn’t seem like it was the right time for me.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t meant to say it out aloud. Especially not in that sad, wounded-puppy whimper that changed his expression from contrition to pity. When he felt remorse, she had the upper hand. Now that he seemed to pity her, the power had shifted back to him. Bree shot to her feet. “No apology necessary, but thanks. I’ll let myself out.”

“What prompted the change of heart?”

Her hand was nearly on the doorknob, but his question grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her back into the room. She turned back to him and shrugged. “For the sake of the project.”

He took a few steps toward her. “Why were you so upset about that night?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Curious, I guess.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, drawing her attention to the strain the gesture placed on the placard covering his zipper.

“I overreacted. I get cranky when I’m jet-lagged.” The space between them was closing too rapidly. She took a few steps backward toward the door.

His self-assured smile suggested that her answer had told him everything he needed to know.

Her cheeks flamed and she swiveled on her heels, but before she could escape, he’d gently caught her by the hand. A familiar heat traveled from his large hand into hers, up her arm and into her chest. She raised her eyes to his.

“Look, I bought more than enough food to share. I’m going to marinate the steaks then get a few hours of sleep. But I should have the steaks on the grill at say—” Wes flipped his wrist and glanced at his watch “—seven thirty. Why don’t you join me for dinner? You can assess my cooking abilities for yourself.”

His wide grin and close proximity were doing things to her she wasn’t proud of. Wesley Adams wasn’t a man she should be flirting with. Nor were they friends. He was a means to an end.

Bree glanced down at his hand on her arm and he dropped it to his side and took a step backward. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m pretty tired, too. I should probably just order in and get some rest.”

“The invitation is open, if you change your mind.”

* * *

Bree had turned and run out of there like her hair was on fire. If it hadn’t wounded his pride, he would’ve found it funny.

Wes closed the door behind her and returned to the kitchen. He seasoned the steaks and put them into the fridge.

You invited her to dinner, genius? Really?

They were forced to work together over the course of the next six months. Like Bree said, they needed to play nice. He appreciated that she’d come to that conclusion. That she had no plans to make the next six months a living hell for both of them.

Being cordial was crucial to the success of the project. Getting to know each other, up close and personal, could only lead to trouble. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself. His brain had taken a coffee break and the head on his shoulders was no longer in control.

He’d been dying for another excuse to touch her warm, soft skin. The memory of their night together in London blazed brightly in the back of his mind, like an image from an old-fashioned projector. His skin tingled with the sensation of her body pressed to his on the dance floor. Of his mouth on her lips, her neck, her bare shoulder. The unfinished business between them.

It was good Bree had turned down his invitation. Better for the both of them.

Chapter 4 (#ued88ade6-9031-5e1c-a545-1f3a3b99f637)

For the past three hours, Bree had tried to take a nap. Instead, she tossed and turned. Thinking of him. And of that damn kiss. The one that had haunted her for more than a year.

Get your head together. It’s not like you’ve never been kissed.

True. But she’d never been so thoroughly kissed. Kissed in a way that made every nerve in her body raw and frayed. Deeply relaxed, yet ready to spring into action. A kiss that made her want him in the worst way. Body and soul.

In that instant, she’d set aside her plan to make Wesley Adams hers for the night. She’d wanted something deeper with the guy who’d been sweet, funny and incredibly sexy. To be kissed like that for more than just one night. So she’d politely refused his invitation to go back to his place.

She’d regretted it ever since.

Given the chance again, she would’ve accepted his invitation. If only to ease the tension and stress that had her body strung tighter than a new volleyball net.

Bree slipped on yoga pants, a T-shirt and a hooded sweater, then went downstairs to order from one of the resort restaurants. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a sip. A mouthwatering scent had infiltrated the kitchen.

Grilled meat.

Her belly churned. She could almost taste the steak. The one with her name on it.

Bree stepped through the double doors and onto the back deck, following the scent.