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Her smile hit him crossways. And then it slipped from her face as he leaned forward oh-so-slowly. Mute, she stared at his hand as he braced it on the desk a millimeter from her thigh. He could slip a finger right under the hem of that tiny skirt. And his mind got busy on imagining where that would lead.
“But you have to do something for me,” he murmured. He got as close to her as he dared, crowding her space where all the trappings of business melted away and they were simply man and woman.
She smelled classy and expensive, and instantly he wanted that scent on his own skin, transferred by her body heat as she writhed under him. He could lean her back against that desk and at this angle, the pleasure would be intense. The image made him a little lightheaded as his erection intensified.
“I already said I’d talk to the others about selling you the formula,” she said a touch breathlessly, but to her credit, she didn’t allow one single muscle twitch to give away whether she welcomed his nearness or preferred the distance. “If we catch the leak.”
That ice-goddess routine needed to go, fast. That wasn’t going to happen here. Not under these circumstances. If he wanted to take things to the next level, he had to go bold or go home.
“Yes, but you’re doing that because deep down, you know you owe me. If I help you find the leak, you owe me again. Turnabout, sweetheart.”
“What do you want?”
Oh, where should I start? “Nothing you can’t handle.”
The knowing glint in her gaze said she already had a pretty good idea what gauntlet he was about to throw down. They stared at each other for a long moment and her breathing hitched as he reached out and slid a thumb along her jawline.
“You have to take me to dinner.”
Four
Cass’s laughter bubbled to the surface in spite of it all. Gingerly she dabbed at her eyes without fear thanks to Harper’s smudge-proof mascara. “That’s what you want? Dinner?”
She’d been braced for...anything but that. Especially since she had the distinct impression he was working as many angles as she was.
His fingers dropped away, but her face was still warm where he’d stroked her. She missed his touch instantly.
Why had she thought sitting on the desk would give her an edge? Seemed so logical before she actually did it. Gage had taken her chair in deliberate provocation that she absolutely couldn’t ignore. So she’d trapped him behind the desk and put all her good stuff at eye level. It should have been the perfect distraction. For him. The perfect way to spend the entire conversation looking down at him, imagining that he was suffering over her brilliant strategic move.
Karma, baby.
Instead, she’d spent half of the conversation acutely aware that all her good stuff was at eye level. He’d noticed, quite appreciatively, and it hit her in places she’d forgotten that felt so good when heated by a man’s interest.
The other half of the conversation had been spent trying to stay one step ahead of Gage while feeding him the right combination of incentives to get him to agree to help. If he was up to no good, what better way to keep tabs on him than under the guise of working together to uncover the source of the leak? Besides, she hadn’t done so hot at resolving the leak on her own. If they kept their activities on the down-low, no one had to know she’d outsourced the problem.
If they caught the leak—and Gage wasn’t involved—she’d absolutely talk to the other girls about selling the formula. She hadn’t specified what she’d say...but she’d talk to them all right. The conversation might be more along the lines of no way in hell she’d sell, but he didn’t have to know that.
It was a win-win for everyone.
Crossing his heart with one lazy finger, he grinned. “Totally serious.”
“Dinner?” She pretended to contemplate. “Like a date?”
“Not like a date. A date. And you’re paying.”
A God-honest date? The idea buzzed around inside, looking for a place to land, sounding almost...nice. She’d love to have dinner over a glass of wine with an interesting man who looked at her like Gage was looking at her right now.
She shook it off. She couldn’t go on a real date with Gage Branson. It was ludicrous. The man was a heartbreaker of the highest order.
Instead, she should be thinking of how a date fell in line with her strategy. A little after-hours party, just the two of them. Some drinks and a few seductive comments and, oh, look. Gage slips and says something incriminating, like the name of the person he’d planted at her company. The one who was feeding him information he could use to his advantage.
