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“So what brings you here, Foxy-boy?”
He rolls his eyes at the nickname she gave him.
“I’m here for Amanda.”
“Well, why doesn’t that surprise me?” she says, eyeing me with a smirk.
“Excuse me,” a woman says, standing by the new arrivals section. “Can you help me?”
“Of course.” I come into action, leaving Brian standing by the counter because customers come first, I remind myself.
Alisha continues to talk with Brian while I hold different hues near the customer’s face and explain the best colors for her skin tone with confident ease. Ultimately, we end up with pants that are a deep navy hue, crisp and tailored with a hint of stretch to them, combined with a top that is a delicate white lace that hugs the curves of the customer’s frame, hot yet businesslike in its appearance—a beautiful blend of classy and sultry.
As the woman slips into the dressing room, my focus is yanked to Brian, now seated in the corner chair. That same one I passed out in when he came around and helped me with my painting deadline years back. I watch his lips tug up into a roguish smirk when he notices the plate of dark chocolate brownies on the side table. Yeah, I asked Emma to make me a bunch. How could I not, knowing the man who makes my heart race mentions that my personality resembles those sweets? His way of saying it had my knees buckling in an instant. I look up again and find him biting into one, and the way he relishes it bewitches me. Watching Brian Fox eat a brownie is true decadence.
Oh God. I’m doomed. Because no matter how hard I try, my attraction to him isn’t fading away—in fact, our professional working relationship has only intensified it. It’s become electric; his intelligence is invaluable, and I feel empowered by his respect for me. But I find the chemistry between us has become almost unbearable. The way I blush whenever he looks at me; the burning heaviness I feel inside when I look into his eyes... these have been resurfacing nightly in my dreams.
As my client leaves with her new attire, I turn to Brian.
“Hey. Sorry for the wait.”
“No problem,” he drawls, his voice slightly deeper than usual.
Or am I just imagining it?
“Let’s go to my office.”
Our feet pad through the narrow corridor and when I step into my office, which is half the size of his, he says.
“So you said in your text something was wrong?”
I nod and move behind my bureau and shuffle some papers until I come across the right one that I slide his way. “Yes, I think there’s a mistake in the invoice. The numbers don’t match our agreement.”
“It’s not wrong,” he says, peering at the paper. “There’s a discount included.”
I bite my lip, trying to hold back my doubts as I battle the feeling of being favored because of our friendship, or even worse, me being his best friend’s sister. That isn’t what I want. I want to be considered an equal.
“Brian, I—”
He shakes his head. “It’s enough, Brownie.”
“You didn’t mention a discount before. I don’t want you to feel like you have to give me a discount because we’re friends.”
“Amanda.” My eyes find him as he says my name in a no-nonsense tone. “Trust me when I say this is enough.”
The sincerity in his gaze eases my worry. “Okay,” I say, stepping around the desk and focusing on my other question. “Would it work if I stopped by Six-Pack or your house this week? I’d like to discuss the last details about the décor and placement of the runway.”
He nods in agreement before tossing out a different query. “Is there something going on between you and Cody Michaels?”
Brian’s question hits me like a sudden gust of wind, knocking the breath out of me.Is there something between me and Cody Michaels?The audacity of the question threatens to unravel the composure I fight so hard to maintain. I force a calm façade, refusing to let Brian see the shock that churns within me.
“We had a good time at Six-Pack, and I got him to be the lingerie launch photographer,” I reply, my voice laced with defiance.
His jawline clenches, his eyes darkening with a mixture of anger and something else I can’t quite decipher. His next words cut through the air. “Do you think it’s wise to mix business with pleasure?”
His accusation strikes at the core of my trust, and the pain resonates deep within my chest. “Really, Brian? You think I’m involved with Cody while doing business with him?” With a glare that could sear through steel, I say, “You should know me better than that.” I turn and storm away to bury myself in work, desperate to escape the hurt.
His footsteps echo behind me. “Fuck, Amanda, I’m sorry.”
