rose and fastened his suit jacket.
He strode out to see a slim brunette facing off with Eleanor.
“I really need a minute of Mr. Kensington’s time,” the woman said.
“Leave the paperwork on the desk,” Eleanor said, tone unyielding.
The brunette wore a sleeveless purple dress, with a low-cut neckline. She spotted him, and her face lit up, her over-full lips forming a perfect pout.
“Mr. Kensington,” she said in a breathy voice that would do Marilyn Monroe proud.
She looked vaguely familiar. Maybe from the Sales department? Or Finance?
“Leave it with Eleanor,” he said. “I have a meeting.”
The brunette sidestepped in front of him. “I can bring it back later.”
Shit, she’d be lucky to be twenty-two.
“Leave it with Eleanor,” he repeated.
She touched her hand to his chest. “I’m really good, Mr. Kensington…at my job. If there’s anything I can do for you…”
An amused snort cut through the moment.
His head shot up.
He saw the blonde—medium-height, athletic body with curves in the right places packed into a long, gray skirt. Her blonde hair was loose around a bold face. She had strong features, intriguing, with a dimple in her chin. Her bright-green eyes were dancing with unhidden amusement.
Penn Channing.
His gut tightened. Luckily—or not, perhaps—he’d been so busy with work, he’d managed to stop himself from dropping by the Marketing floor for no good reason, just to get another glimpse of her.
“Why don’t I stop by later with the file?” Ms. Breathy purred.
Liam dragged his gaze off Penn. “No, I—”
The woman leaned into him. “I don’t mind, I can—”
“Yes, yes, Marilyn. We all know what you can do. How about you unhook your claws and run along?”
Ms. Breathy blinked, then glared at Penn.
Liam took the file the woman was holding and slapped it on Eleanor’s desk. “You can go.”
His tone finally got through, and her pouty lips pouted even more. She swiveled and stalked off.
“Close call.” Penn held a file and a takeout coffee cup. “Another second, and I’m pretty sure she would have shed that dress and asked to have your babies.”
“Good morning,” Liam said.
“I’m Penn Channing, from Marketing. I’m new.”
“I remember you from the Nightingale House event, Ms. Channing.”
She smiled. “I really do have a contract for you to sign.” She held up the file. “For the Taunton budget.”
“Leave it on the desk,” he said.
Penn’s smile widened, and against his will, his gaze dropped to her lips. Normal ones, no filler in sight, and perfectly shaped. He felt a pulse in his gut.
He frowned. He’d seen far more beautiful women than Penn from Marketing, but something about her—the intelligence in her eyes, the confidence she exuded—was intriguing.
She also didn’t look like she was calculating his bank balance.
“The thing is, Lisa needs it signed now, and then I have a meeting to get to.” Her lips twitched. “I come bearing bribes, although it seems kind of boring now, compared to Marilyn’s offer.”
He raised a brow.
She held out a coffee cup. “Caramel macchiato.”
Shit. “Deal, hand over the coffee.” He took the file, opened it. He’d already been over the Taunton budget at home last night after he’d had a drink with Zane, Monroe, and Mav.
He scrawled his name, then handed the file back to her and took the cup. Her fingers brushed his and Liam felt a tingle. He saw Penn frown.
“This is much better than Marilyn’s offer,” he said.
“Her name is Roberta,” Eleanor said dryly. “She works in Purchasing.”
Well, he’d been wrong on all counts.
Penn took the file. “Thanks.” Without a pause, she turned on her heel.
Strangely, Liam didn’t want to let her leave.
“Wait, is your meeting on the Borden Project?”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “Yes.”
“I’m heading there, too. We can walk together.”
For the first time in a long time, a woman didn’t look thrilled to spend time with him.
Damned if Liam didn’t like it.
Aspen
Walking down the hall, I was highly conscious of Liam Kensington behind me.
He was even more gorgeous up close and personal, wearing his custom-tailored blue suit, gray shirt, and blue tie. The tie made the bright blue of his eyes stand out, and his golden hair gleam. But it was the strong line of his jaw where my gaze lingered, and the sharp angle of his cheekbone. He’d been cleanshaven at the Nightingale House fundraiser a few days ago, but he had stubble today. I swallowed. I liked it.
Then I noted he was looking down, and my belly clenched. Wait, was he looking at my ass?
Then his gaze flicked up and met mine.
I felt the jolt. He emanated a sense of