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“I didn’t notice you disabusing her of that idea,” I pointed out.
His grin grew wider. “Because she’s entirely correct. I couldn’t microwave popcorn if you duct-taped the instructions to my face.”
I laughed, and let him pull me along. “So where are we going now?”
“Well, I can’t let my expensive new advertising consultant starve because of a territory dispute,” Hunter said dryly. “I’m going to have to take drastic measures.”
“Drastic measures?” I echoed sarcastically. “What, are we going to go shoot a bear? Because my shot would put you to shame, just warning you.”
He turned back towards me, raising an eyebrow. “You can shoot?”
“Since I was a teenager,” I said. “My dad used to sneak me out to the range; Mom never would have approved.” That was putting it lightly; if she ever found out, I would shortly thereafter be finding out exactly what it looked like when a human head exploded.
“Well, that’s good to know,” Hunter said. “But the measures tonight aren’t quite so drastic. I just happen to have a secret snack stash.”
I raised my eyebrow even though he had turned back away and couldn’t see it. “When did you turn into a teenage girl?”
And when had I decided it was a good idea to mouth off to my boss/client? I knew the words coming out of my lips weren’t appropriate, and yet somehow every time we talked, I just got more and more sarcastic. But it was either that or lust-struck declarations of wanting to be swept away in his arms, and I definitely couldn’t let those out. Unprofessional as my snark might be, at least it kept a tiny part of my dignity intact.
A tiny, tiny bit.
Meanwhile, Hunter’s shoulders had tensed. “Who says teenage girls are the only ones who get to have a snack stash?”
His voice was trying to be light, but there was a tension underneath.
Maybe I had gone too far with my teasing after all. “I wasn’t trying to say—” I started.
“There was a time in my life when I didn’t have any food at all,” he said, so softly that for a second I thought I had imagined it. “I feel…safer, knowing I have something stashed away. Just in case.”
What the hell? Hunter Knox had grown up the pampered scion of a wealthy family—hadn’t he?
I realized the as**sumptions I had been making, and I suddenly felt very small.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
He turned again, giving me a gentle smile. “It’s all right.”
He took my hand then, and my breath caught in my throat.
“I’d better guide you the rest of the way,” he said. “It gets pretty cramped from here on out.”
He tugged gently on my hand, and led me down a narrow hallway, through a gap in the walls of stacked boxes emitting the soothing smells of chamomile and old cloth. He shifted so that I led, his warm hands on my shoulders steering me ably through the dark.
Such warm hands. Their heat radiated through my shirt, and I felt his breath ghosting over my ear, as if any second now he might lean down and—
“We import the tea from Singapore,” he murmured.
“Oh,” I whispered, shivering involuntarily. It was hard to think of anything else to say with my heart pounding so hard. Was I imagining the way his fingers tightened slightly on my shoulders? Was that a slight caress as his finger swept downward an inch towards my collarbone, rustling my blouse, or was I daydreaming?
Probably. I was definitely probably reading too much into it. I tried to even out my breathing, hoped he couldn’t feel me tremble under his gentle touch. I resolved to banish all thoughts of that night we’d spent together in my hotel room and focus on the business at hand, but the low throb pulsing between my legs was undeniable.
“Stop.” And his arm encircled my waist, sending a jolt through me as I stumbled to a halt, his strong body pressing up against mine, there in the half-darkness where no one knew we were, where no one would see if he were to pull me even closer, if he were to bend his lips to my neck, if his hands were to wander from my waist to my bre**asts or down my thighs—
He pulled away.
“It’s right here.”
It took several embarrassingly long seconds for me to realize that he was talking about his secret snack hoard.
I watched, squinting through the dimness, as he jimmied away the back of a cabinet to reveal a small tin, just starting to rust at the edges. Watching him, the careful care he took, the way his eyes lit as he picked it up, I was filled with an overwhelming gratitude for the trust he was showing me.
Because this was private. This was a secret. This was something very nearly sacred to him, I could see that in his eyes, and he was sharing it with me.
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