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“I’m so confused.” I leaned back and twisted my fingers together in my lap.
Callan touched my bicep, then trailed his fingers downward, over the crook of my elbow, skating down my forearm. His touch was light on my wrist, his thumb pausing on the spot where my pulse thundered like a racehorse. He traced the bones in the back of my hand, then threaded his fingers through mine. With a gentle tug, he pulled my right hand free and drew it toward him.
My eyelids slipped closed, and I sighed as he held his lips in place on my knuckles.
I opened my eyes to catch him staring at me, his green eyes glittering.
“Catie-belle—” He stopped, drew his brows up and then continued, “Never be confused about my attraction to you. I cursed myself for a fool all the way home from the trail that day because I didn’t ask for your name or number.” He grinned at me, even white teeth peeking out between his full lips. “I was over-the-moon happy to see you in Carrie’s office at Bad Dog. I kind of felt like the Grinch when I laid eyes on you.”
I blinked. “Because you wanted to steal Christmas?”
Shaking his head, he laughed. “No, you little goofball. Because the second I saw you, my heart grew three times its normal size.”
I melted over his sweetness. “Oh.” I drew my hand free of his and pressed my fingertips to my lips.
He smiled. “Yeah, oh.” After brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, he then traced his knuckles along my jaw, placing the tips of his fingers under my chin and drawing me forward.
He kissed me again, this time gently, almost chastely.
I leaned back. “Wait. So why are you sorry?”
His fingers tightened on my chin, stopping my retreat. “Because being with me comes with some unwanted elements. Like being in the public’s eye and dealing with paparazzi. I try to keep my private life on the down-low. And kissing you in public like this could expose you to being…harassed.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. I mean, how bad could it be?
He dropped his hand and eased back, glancing across the bar. I followed his gaze and saw Joel overseeing the rowdy couple on the far side of the room. He appeared to be supervising them deleting any potential incriminating evidence.
Callan tipped up his chin toward Joel, a silent thanks of sorts, I guess.
Then he looked into my eyes. “Red, I know this is fast. And I know we’re business associates. But I am desperate to see where this goes. Are you…” His words stalled out as his gaze searched my face, waiting for me to offer any kind of encouragement.
I couldn’t deny the pull I felt toward him was magnetic. Like I was a sunflower and everything in me turned toward him as if following the sun.
But reason smashed like a hammer against desire. He was right: We were business associates. That professional line was never one I’d crossed before. Never one I’dwantedto cross. What if I indulged my lust for him and screwed up this project? I might as well move to Alaska for all the business I might get if things went south.
Could I risk that?
Dare I?
I’m not sure what emotions flew across my face as I contemplated my answer. But Callan slowly blanked his expression and leaned away from me.
I hurried to explain my thoughts. “It’s the business aspect that bothers me most. I don’t want you to be swayed by a relationship with me when it comes to picking the best graphics for your release. Honestly, it’s about both our jobs. My reputation as a designer could be tarnished if I gave you a crap cover, but you felt obligated to use it because you’d sexed me…uh, because of a relationship with me. And likewise, who would buy your CD if the cover sucked?”
“I doubt that would happen. Carrie speaks highly of you. And just seeing what you did with a Viking on the cover was magical. Okay, the concept sucked, because”—he bit out a harsh laugh—“well, Vikings have no place on a country music album. But the work was good.”
Pride swelled up my chest. “It was damn good, considering.”
“Okay… Damn good.” With a smile, he reached for my hand as he slouched back in his chair.
I leaned into him, propping one elbow on the arm of his chair. I was close enough to see flecks of blue in his eyes.
He pressed my palm flat against his chest and drummed his fingers on my knuckles, gnawing on his lower lip as he thought.
“What if—”
“What if—” We spoke at the same time. He inclined his head toward me, indicating I should go first.
I drew a deep breath. “What if we pause the idea of a relationship until we finish the artwork? It might take a couple weeks to finalize everything. My contract calls for me to provide graphic support for the release.”
