the same.
Lemons, maybe…dear god, the way her lips pursed and cheeks moved…no, maybe orange, definitely citrus…and the moan she made when she swallowed.
He swallowed, too. The gin was great, the foreplay better.
Connor wished the bar wasn’t between them. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he settled for leaning across the bar, sliding his hands into her hair, and pulling him to her. When they kissed, he could taste the gin on her lips. Her tongue met his as boldly as the gin had done, bursting with life and flavor.
Her hand went around his neck, tugging him toward her, and he had half a mind to take her on the bar. Only the recollection that they were in her workplace stopped him from acting upon it.
When they finally broke for air, Emerson grinned. “When I said let it roll over the tongue, I meant yours, not mine.”
“It tasted better on yours,” he said. “I needed a second opinion on the citrus.”
Emerson laughed, a sound he’d already come to adore. “You could have just asked. Citrus aurantium, bitter orange peel.”
“And where would the fun be in that?” He reached for her hand again, seemingly unable to stop touching her. “I look forward to doing that again many more times this evening.”
They were silent for a moment, eyes fixed on each other.
“I’d like that, too,” she said at last. “Ready for another?” she said, tilting her head in the direction of the bottles of gin behind the bar.
Connor nodded discretely and adjusted himself below the bar. The woman was effervescent as tonic and as deep as gin. And there was no place he would rather be—no matter how much it would anger his father—than right here with Emerson.
“I’d love one.”
Chapter Five
Three days after her wonderful evening at the distillery with Connor, Emerson unbuttoned her overcoat, ran her palms along the flare of her dress, and stood straight.
It was fine. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She wasn’t committing to anything by investigating loan options. Her father had hated the idea of a loan so badly, it felt as though she were going behind his back somehow. And there was the nagging concern that Olivia or Jake may feel the same way. But she needed to know what their options were before she presented the idea to them. After learning more details on repayment costs, she might be able to persuade them.
She’d resisted the urge to run her presentation by Connor. Lying in bed that morning, she’d concluded that in the absence of her father, she simply wanted someone credible, someone with industry experience, to tell her that it was a solid proposal she planned to share with the bank. She had to consider why she felt she needed someone’s approval other than her own, and why she felt Connor was the right man for the job.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the bank doors open.
She made herself known at the information desk and waited a few moments before she saw the person she was waiting for.
“Emerson,” said Dawson Allen, the business banking manager and her former high school classmate. “Great to see you. I was so sorry to hear about your dad.”
“Thank you, Dawson. I’d be lying if I said things hadn’t been rough, but we’re muddling through it.”
Dawson led Emerson to his office, where he gestured toward the chair opposite his desk. Once they were both seated, he pulled out a notepad.
“So, how can I help, Emerson?”
She offered him a copy of the presentation she’d created to make sure she mentioned everything in the pitch. “We’re stuck in a catch-22. We have more orders than we can keep up with, but we don’t have the capacity to fill them. I estimate that we could sell at least a half million more units this year if we had the capacity. But without the wedding venue revenue and all the fallout that came with it, we don’t have the cash to do the kind of expansion we need to. Any renovation needs to be fast and simultaneous to reduce disruption to our supply chain. The venue and the distillery will need flipping at the same time.”
Dawson looked confused. “You want money to renovate?”
Emerson nodded. Why did it seem like such an odd question?
Dawson tapped something on the keyboard and looked carefully at whatever was on the screen.
“Is something wrong?” Emerson asked.
When Dawson looked at her, his features were as perplexed as she felt.
“Your dad was approved for and received a quarter-of-a-million-dollar loan