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“Yes. Here’s the deal. If he’s seen here, all by himself, and a popular blogger posts a picture of him, then that’ll draw people to this club. The headline will be something like,newly single politician hit the nightlife.The mention of the club won’t be the main thing, but it’ll start popping in people’s mind,” she says, a current of enthusiasm in her voice. “The best kind of promotion is the one that doesn’t scream promotion. The organic mentions.”
“Smart. But is it ethical to use him without his knowledge?” I ask, even though I already know the answer myself.
She tilts her head to the side, watching me with her big eyes. Were they always like this? Were there always these intense rings of golden around her hazel irises? “Use him? You’ve donated to his campaign, haven’t you? Besides, if rumors of him cheating on his ex are true, he’s no saint. We won’t be spreading lies about him anyway. I work with other influencers and they’re not sleazy.”
I do remember reading about Dan cheating on his ex. A saint he definitely is not, even though news doesn’t seem to focus on his extracurricular activities much. “Nice work.”
“Thanks. That’s one of my ideas. I’m also thinking about inviting a few influencer friends over for lunch at your restaurant. They’re a close-knit group and meet every other week.”
“And I’ll comp their get-together,” I say.
She fishes out her phone and types on her digital calendar. “Yes. You catch on fast.”
“I may be new to the hotel hospitality industry, but I’m not an idiot,” I say, hating how ridiculously defensive I sound. I’m not used to learning something new from someone her age. This would have been much easier if she were a knockout without good ideas. Or a brainiac without the good looks. Both of them together, plus the fierceness in her personality, are an explosive combo.
My fear is I’ll stop moving away from the explosion, and instead move toward it.
No. I give myself a mental punch.No.
“Oh, I know that.” She reaches over to me, and before I can do anything, she slides her fingers over my tie and under my collar. My whole body tenses up, my heart working overtime to keep me alive. I avoid eye contact, and I’m about to protest her touch or jerk away from her, when she undoes my tie and swiftly removes it, then jams it in my pocket. “That’s a better look for you. There’s no need for this tie at night.”
“No,” I say, unsure if I am saying it to her or myself.
She smooths her hand over my shirt. “This look makes you more approachable and less, you know, stuffy.”
I snort and withdraw as if I have been burned. May as well have been. My skin is throbbing under the fabric of my shirt, her touch igniting everything that’s raw and primal in me. “I’m not stuffy, Whitney,” I say. So I like things a certain way. I like to keep business away from pleasure, especially if pleasure means my best friend’s daughter. That is absolutely not stuffy.
She chuckles. “Then prove it to me.”
“How?” I ask, even if every fiber in my being tells me not to. Don’t give in. Don’t even entertain. I’ve always considered myself a strong, powerful man. A man who didn’t have to worry about saying no. Yet when I’m with her, I become a much more fragile version of myself.
She raises her chin, and her eyes bore into mine.
My breath catches in my throat, along with a lump of forbidden lust. For a moment, I look at her, my gaze dropping to her mouth, her sexy, plump, bow-shaped mouth.
I imagine her lips around my cock, and my pulse skyrockets. I feel the distance between us shortening, and I can’t tell if I’m the one moving toward her or if she’s the one closing the space. Doesn’t matter.
Her fragrance swirls around me, a heady mix of citrus, flowers and spices. There’s a part of me that’s discovering something new. It’s hard to explain… the anticipation rolling through me is making every fiber of my being so achingly aware of her.
She touches my chest, and rests her hand there. Fuck, she can feel my heartbeat. The heartbeat of a racing horse about to make it to the finish line.
She raises her eyes to me, and I notice the glint of triumph in them. I feel like kissing her and spanking her ass at the same time. She knows why my heart is out of control. Damn her.
“Here are your drinks,” the waitress says, and I almost jump from the seat.
I scoot away on the booth, breathing hard like I just worked out.
The waitress has a neutral expression on her face, and if she noticed anything she’s not showing it. “A vodka soda with a splash of cranberry for her and a whiskey for you. Please let me know if you need anything else.”
She gives us the drinks, and I take mine and kick it back.
What I need is to get away from this sexy brunette as soon as I can before I make a huge mistake.
4
Whitney
Then prove it to me.
