Killian (On the Line #1) - Brenda Rothert Page 0,33

Stahl Enterprises, Inc. logo reminded me that I didn’t just have it bad for a woman, but for a self-made millionaire. There was nothing ordinary about Sidney.

I tore open the envelope and pulled out the piece of Stahl letterhead. She’d handwritten a message.

Killian,

If you’re free, I’d love to see you. My place.

S

She’d written her address beneath the message. A surge of excitement made my blood pump hard. If I was free? As though anything but work would take precedence over her.

I’d already showered, so I decided to go in my jeans, T-shirt and hoodie. My old Jeep Wrangler was cold in the winter, but I didn’t feel it on the drive to Sid’s downtown address. I’d missed her voice, her smell and her skin. And finally, we’d be spending time together like normal people. Not sneaking into a supply closet, or hoping no one would catch us leaving her office together.

When I got to the condo, I decided to park a block away and walk. I was concerned about someone finding out Sidney and I were getting together outside of work. The shit talk from my teammates wasn’t my worry. It was Sidney’s mention of her possibly getting in trouble that had me feeling vigilant.

I pulled my hood up over my head and jogged the block to her door. She answered the bell wearing gray sweats and a T-shirt, her hair back in a ponytail.

“You came,” she said, smiling.

“’Course I did.” I stepped in, glancing around at the dark wood floors and the walls adorned with modern, abstract art.

“It came decorated,” she said, closing the door behind me. “I’m not into abstract art.”

“No, I was just thinking you can’t ever come over to my place. It’s a dump compared to this.”

“Maybe you guys need better housing.”

I reached for her hips and pulled her close to me. “Men don’t give a shit about that stuff.”

She tipped her face up and I kissed her. It wasn’t like the hot, desperate kisses we’d shared before. It was more me telling her I missed her and was happy to see her without saying the words.

“Mmm, you smell good,” she said softly. “But your hands are freezing.”

I pulled my hands away from her waist and blew on them.

“Come on,” she said, taking my hand to lead me toward the open kitchen. “Some wine will warm you up.”

The kitchen was all stainless steel and dark wood, with light pouring in from the pot lighting.

“I’m making a great stir-fry for dinner,” she said. “Hopefully you’ll want to eat because I’m making a lot.”

“I’m starving.” I watched her turn a corkscrew and open a bottle of red wine. “And I’m good at chopping if you need help.”

“I do.” She poured wine into two glasses and held one out to me, pulling it back at the last second. “I didn’t even ask if you wanted this. Do you want this?”

“Yeah. I’d have said so if I didn’t.” I reached for the glass and took a sip. “That’s good. I’m guessing you didn’t buy it from a gas station.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I do indulge in good wine. I brought a case of this stuff from my New York place.”

“How was that? Your trip?”

“It was good. Super busy. But I got a big transaction closed for my real estate business.”

“Did you see Lance?” I regretted the words as soon as they came out.

“No. We’re not on speaking terms after that night at the charity event.”

I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. “I can’t believe I just asked you that. I’m not that guy.”

“I get it.” She slid onto a bar stool at the island. “When I was gone, I wondered about a hundred times if you were with another woman, and I’m not that girl.”

“Can I be the only guy who sucks on your tits in your office and eats your pussy in storage rooms?” I gave her my best puppy dog eyes.

“Most definitely. I’m not seeing anyone else, if that’s what you mean. I don’t think anyone else could measure up anyway.”

“Damn right. Stand up so I can smack your ass.”

“You are not smacking my ass.” She slid off the stool and fished through the refrigerator, which was about six feet wide.

“You could fit enough food for a dozen people in there,” I said.

“It was like the art—came with the place.” She passed me a bag of broccoli and another of multi-colored peppers. “Can you rinse those, Captain?”

“You got it, boss.”

We rinsed, chopped and drank while