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One
The second her ex’s fingers closed around her arm, Zara Perkins jerked from the firm grasp. “I’m not dancing, I’m working.”
Having Shane Chapman show up at the biggest job she’d ever taken on for the most prestigious family she’d ever worked for was just her luck. She prided herself on her business, on doing everything in her power to make her clients’ parties the event they hired her for. And Shane could ruin it all.
“You’re such a tease,” he mocked, the whiskey on his breath repugnant. “I saw you looking at me.”
Sure, with disdain when she realized he was in attendance. She’d rather walk barefoot over shards of glass than let his arms wrap around her. Zara prayed Shane would go away. This was a new job, a job she desperately needed. The last thing she wanted to do was have to defend a man she had the misfortune of dating a few times.
“Dance with me.”
The low, demanding words sent shivers through her body. Zara knew without turning around who would be behind her...her new employer and rumored-to-be corrupt business mogul Braden O’Shea.
With Shane directly in front of her and Braden behind her, Zara was literally stuck in the exact predicament she didn’t want to be in on her first big night of working for the O’Sheas. But right now, she was bracketed by two powerful men. One she wanted nothing to do with and the other set her heart racing as only a mysterious, intriguing man could do. The few times she’d been in his office had been a bit difficult to concentrate. Braden O’Shea exuded authority, control and sex appeal.
Humiliation flooded her at the idea that Braden had to intervene. She was here in a professional capacity. Having her ex confront her was not exactly showcasing the reputation she’d worked so hard to build, and coming off as anything less than professional could be career suicide.
Shane glared over her shoulder, silently telling Braden precisely what he thought of the interruption, but before Zara could say a word to either man, Braden took hold of her arm and pulled her to the dance area in the ballroom of his lavish, historical home.
Instantly she was plastered against the oldest of the O’Shea siblings...not a difficult position to find herself in, actually. She had often appreciated the visual of his broad, sexy body wrapped in the finest of black suits with black shirt and no tie. But being up close and personal, breathing in what was undoubtedly expensive, masculine cologne that had her eyes fluttering closed as she inhaled, was another level of torture entirely.
The man exuded sex appeal, but he was her new boss, and she needed this job for the prestige and the insanely large paycheck. This was her first official event with this prominent family after being officially hired a few months ago. Screwups...screwing of any kind...was not allowed.
So, no sex thoughts. None. Okay, maybe later when she was alone.
“I really need to be working.”
A little protest was in order, wasn’t it? Even if sliding against Braden felt like some sort of foreplay in itself, she was the events coordinator for this party. Dancing with the host and boss was a major professional no-no, even if they’d always gotten along well with each other before tonight. There’d always been some ridiculous magnetic energy between them that she’d never experienced before but refused to explore.
Braden’s dark gaze studied her, his mouth unsmiling. “With a dress like that, you should be dancing.”
The sexual undertone wasn’t lost on her. She’d thrown on her go-to black dress with a low V in the back and front, long sleeves, with the hem stopping at her knees. The dress was simple, yet made a statement. Hiding her curves wasn’t an option unless she wore a muumuu. Besides, this was the best dress she’d found in her boxes of belongings since she hadn’t unpacked from her move...three months ago. Because unpacking meant settling in, making roots.
“You’re not paying me to dance,” she told him, though she made no motion to step out of his powerful embrace. Her mind told her this wasn’t professional, but her stubborn body wasn’t getting that memo. “I’m positive this isn’t professional to ignore my position here.”
“You’re on break.”
With one large hand at the small of her back and the other gripping hers, Braden led her in a dance to an old classic. Crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, illuminating the polished wood floor in a kaleidoscope of colors. The wall of French doors leading to the patio gave the room an even larger feel. The O’Sheas were known for their lavish parties, and now that she was in the ballroom, she could see why. Who had an actual ballroom in their house?
