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She nodded. “Okay. Well... goodnight.” She slipped the key in the door and waited for the green light to flash, indicating it was unlocked for her to enter.
Bartolo took her hand and brought it up as though he were going to kiss it, but instead, used her hand to leverage her around to face him, pressing her body against his. Their eyes locked for a second, and then his mouth was on hers, hungry and eager. His hands explored the tight curves of her body through the outfit that he himself had designed.
He murmured into the hollow of her mouth, “Shall we take this inside?”
She absorbed his passionate assault but hesitated to answer. Did she want to invite him in? Of course she knew what that would mean, and while it had been an amazing night, and while he was an insanely attractive man, she knew it wasn’t something her heart really wanted.
Before she could answer, he had her pressed against her hotel room door. She put her hand up between them, pressing on his chest, but he was built solid and didn’t budge. Then a door opened from across and down the hall, and a shirtless Rayner stepped out.
“Miss Fields?” His deep, husky voice surrounded them, and it managed to break Bartolo away from her where her own strength was unable to do so.
“Yes, sir?” Farren answered, looking in the direction her boss stood, and got an eyeful of the tattoo-covered muscles that rippled down his chest and stomach. A pair of gray sweat pants rested low on his hips, and for the first time, she got an unadulterated look at the work of art that his body was. Holy. Shit.
“I’ve been waiting for you to return. We still need to go over some plans for the meeting with DeGradi tomorrow morning.” His eyes moved from Farren to her date. “Bartolo,” he said, nodding a tense greeting.
Bartolo stepped back to put more space between Farren and himself. “Rogan, my old friend, how are you this fine evening? Your employee and I were just wrapping up our date,” he said.
“Bartolo. Always good to see you,” Rayner replied, but Farren knew him well enough to know he didn’t mean a damn word he had just said, judging by his tone and the tightness she could see in his jaw all the way from where she stood.
Bartolo must have sensed the hostility as well. He turned to Farren, took her hand for a final kiss, and put several more inches of distance between them. “I will leave you in the hands of your employer, Bellissima. I hope to hear from you soon.” He turned and nodded to Rayner his gesture of goodbye, and then retreated toward the floor exit to leave.
Then Farren was alone with a shirtless Rayner in the middle of the hallway. She suddenly felt his scrutiny and wasn’t sure why she felt… guilty? What did she have to feel guilty about? Maybe that was just the effect Rayner had when his gaze pierced through her like that, like she had done something wrong. Like she needed his approval.
“You needed to speak with me, sir?” she finally said.
“I do, but you look like you’ve had a long night. Meet with me first thing in the morning,” he instructed.
“Okay. In the morning, then,” she agreed. “Well... goodnight.”
He didn’t say it back, but she saw the corners of his mouth pull up just slightly, in a way that almost looked like the beginnings of a smile. She slid her key in the door once again and disappeared into the solace of her room, wondering why that moment had felt so heavy and awkward
.
Worse, instead of Bartolo, the sexy as hell Italian designer, she found herself dreaming of rippling tattoos on a hard chest all damned night. She awoke the next morning, anxious to get ready and pad her way down to Rayner’s room to find out what he needed to talk to her about.
ELEVEN
Rogan was a man who prided himself on control and restraint under normal, and most abnormal circumstances. He knew he had been asking for trouble when he hired Farren Fields. He’d had good reason to reject her candidacy for the tech support position she had shown up interviewing for that first day.
He knew why she had made it that far in the process, and it had nothing to do with the impressive portfolio of the freelance work she had acquired for such a young woman right out of college. He had never seen anything like it, a glimpse into a brilliant, beautiful mind, but he knew his management team and what they were capable of. He couldn’t in good conscience put this attractive, capable, young woman in the path of the predatory men in his employment, especially Dallas Evans.
Not that he was a saint himself, which was why he was in the predicament he was in now, fighting the urge to tear his hotel room door open, march down the hall to her, and claim that beautiful mouth and body for his own. But even he looked like a choir boy compared to Evans. If Rogan hadn’t owed his life to Evans’s brother, then the underhanded bastard would not be working for him now.
Only once in the time since he hired her had he nearly succumbed to his overwhelming desire to take her in his arms and give her pleasure she’d never known could exist. A brief graze of his hand to the soft, smooth skin of her cheek in one small moment of weakness that he had quickly regained control over. He knew it was a risk, bringing her here with him on this project, but so far, he had been able to maintain a facade of cool indifference where she was concerned. Risky as it may have been, bringing her now was no mistake.
While he had established control and set clear expectations that no one, under any circumstance, was to mess with her, he knew Evans couldn’t be trusted with him gone for a full week out of the country. He had no choice but to take her along.
He was doing a fine job of distracting himself until the moment he heard the rustling outside in the hallway in the direction of her room. The thought of Bartolo putting his fresh, Italian hands all over her made him see hot-iron red, made the blood boil in his veins, had him opening the door to the hallway before he even realized he’d gotten out of bed. Seeing them in a lustful embrace had the heat building in his chest, threatening to explode like the wrath of a fire-breathing dragon.
Only the sound of her sweet voice after Bartolo was out of sight managed to calm the rage inside him. The rage that, given the opportunity, he could focus into a barrage of intense, satisfying, relentless pleasure rocking through her body and his own.
He ran himself a quick, cool shower before going back to bed.
***
“What a day,” Farren said with an exultant smile as she climbed into the back seat of the car.
Rayner entered from the other side and closed his door behind him. He turned around with a look of delight. “Yes, it was. Our hard work has paid off, and it’s time to celebrate,” he said in a tone that sounded almost elated, especially for him.
