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Wes glided his hand across the table, wanting to touch hers. He wanted to give her the same comfort her smile had given him earlier. He froze, his fingers a few inches from Bree’s.
Keep it strictly business. Maintain your distance.
“Sorry to hear that, Bree.” He gripped his beer glass instead. “That must be hard.”
“It’s not that I don’t see her. I do. At every family function. She went on with her life and became a successful lawyer. Got married. Had kids of her own.” Bree forced a laugh. “And me, I’m this big family secret that everyone except her husband and kids know about.”
Something deep in his chest bubbled, like hot lava threatening to spill out of a volcano. How could Bree’s mother sit next to her at barbecues and family weddings, pretending they didn’t share the strongest human bond? Didn’t the woman have any idea how that must make Bree feel?
Wes tried to curb the anger building toward a woman he’d never even met. He’d always known how lucky he was to have his mother. She’d given up everything for him. Put all of her dreams aside to give him and his brother the best life she could. For that, he couldn’t thank her enough.
But it was more than just Bree’s situation that bothered him. Her revelation that she was adopted set all those wheels turning in his head. The ones that kept him awake at night.
Adopted children usually went to good homes. Better situations. What about the ones who didn’t? Even when everything looked good from the outside, who could know what was happening behind closed doors?
Wes didn’t realize neither of them had spoken in several minutes until her voice, soft and apologetic, broke through the jumble of thoughts that wrapped themselves around his skull and squeezed like a vise.
“I didn’t mean to put a downer on this lovely meal. I’m not even sure why I told you that. I shouldn’t have. Only a handful of people outside of my family know the truth. So, please don’t tell anyone.”
“Not my business to tell.” He shrugged. “But I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me.”
Bree squirmed. Something in her eyes indicated that the ease she felt with him was a source of concern for her.
They had that in common, too.
As they finished dinner and shared a generous slice of pecan carrot cake, Wes tried to reassure himself that getting to know Bree was simply a team-building exercise designed to fortify their working relationship. But the truth gnawed at him.
He liked Bree. A lot.
He wanted her friendship, and a rogue part of his anatomy wanted something more.
Trying to strike the perfect balance between building an amicable, working relationship with Bree and keeping a safe emotional distance was a dangerous game. A lot was at stake. For him. For Bree. For Westbrook International.
He couldn’t afford to screw this up.
Yet, when he walked her back to her room, he wasn’t prepared to say good-night.
“Thank you for dinner.” Bree leaned in, one hand pressed to his chest, and kissed his cheek. Her soft scent and body heat surrounded him.
He hadn’t expected the innocent kiss or that he’d be overwhelmed by her nearness.
Bree’s mouth lingered near his as she pulled away so slowly he could hear every microsecond ticking in his head. He willed himself to stay in control. To keep his hands shoved in his pockets, where they wouldn’t get him into trouble.
“You’re welcome.” The words came out much quieter than he’d intended. He dropped his gaze to her sensual lips and she smiled.
“I’d ask you in for an after-dinner drink, but like you said, we’ve got an early morning.” Her voice was soft and captivating, an unspoken invitation.
Wes wet his lower lip and tried to tear his attention away from her mouth and her soft gaze. Tried with every fiber of his being to ignore the fact that he wanted her desperately.
He couldn’t.
Slipping his arms around her waist, he pulled her closer. His mouth inched toward hers. Bree’s eyes drifted closed as she leaned in, closing the space that remained between them.
His lips were nearly on hers when laughter erupted from a loud group exiting the elevator. Startled, her eyes opened and she stepped beyond his grip.
