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“You too.” Hers was a throaty rasp that hooked him in the groin.
“I’m surprised you’re already dressed.”
“Habit, I guess. I wake early and get into the office before everyone else.”
“I see.”
She searched his face. “We’re not going in to the office today, are we, Jace?”
He sliced a hand through his hair. “No, we’re not.”
“I figured. That’s why I emailed Kimmy to bring over some documents I need to sign.”
“You should have told me you were getting on your computer.”
She breezed across the kitchen to the cupboard where she kept Hemingway’s food. The cat ran immediately to his dish, ready to chow down on little fish-shaped bits.
“Why do you feed him that stuff?” he asked.
“What stuff? The cat food?” She bent over and rummaged around for the food bag, which shoved her round ass toward Jace and just about ripped away any control he’d managed to find.
Her ass wiggled slightly as she located the bag and straightened.
He passed a hand over his face, hoping to wipe the lust off it.
“Yeah, the food,” he managed to pick up the thread of conversation. “From what I see, Hemingway only pushes the kibble out of his bowl and spreads them around the kitchen to make it look like he ate some.”
“Oh, I know,” she said with a lilt of the optimism he was starting to see as one of her best traits. “It’s just that the vet wants him to eat more than canned food.”
“I see.” All he could see was the image of that sumptuous ass imprinted on his brain.
And how damn hot it was to look down and watch his cock disappear into her pussy from behind.
She dumped some food into the bowl, and Hemingway began to nose half of it out on the floor.
After Bronte replaced the bag in the cupboard—and bent over again—she click-clacked to the coffeemaker and grabbed a mug off the shelf above.
“What’s with the shoes?” Jace had never been interested in women’s footwear or their feet. He was more of an ass guy, obviously. But those high heels made Bronte’s ankles and calves sleek and mouthwatering.
She poured some coffee. “The shoes go with the outfit.”
“But if you guessed you’d be at home all day, why not wear something more comfortable?”
“Dressing the part of a CEO helps me perform better.”
Christ, did she have to use that word? He could think of a dozen ways to make her perform for him right this minute. One of them was on her knees in front of him.
She peered at him over the brim of her mug. “You still don’t have any clothes.”
“Got some on the way. Should be delivered within the hour.” He scuffed his knuckles over his beard. “I’m a country boy through and through, but I could get used to placing an order and having it delivered in a few hours.”
“What happened to your luggage? Was it lost?”
“No. I didn’t plan on staying in the city longer than a day.”
She lowered her mug and eyed him. “You were confident it wouldn’t take you more than a few hours to find out what my ex-partner took from my system?”
“I didn’t bring a suitcase, did I?”
