Loving Dallas - Caisey Quinn Page 0,5

rows as they should be before taking a step down. Once I’ve completed the top four rows, I breathe a little easier.

There. The hard part is over.

I step down a rung, but I must’ve misjudged the distance because my foot slips and I see myself fall through the air before it happens.

As every muscle in my body tenses, the air whooshes out of my lungs and I flail hopelessly in an attempt to grab something solid.

Surprisingly, I don’t hear the crack of my skull on the slate floor. What I do hear is a man grunt out a noise on impact when I land in his arms.

“Whoa there, darlin’,” my knight in shining denim drawls. “Not that I wasn’t enjoying the view, but I’d leave the stunts to the professionals.”

From underneath a black Stetson, crystal-clear green eyes gleam with a twinkle of mischief and flirtation.

I close my eyes and attempt to make myself disappear like that chick did in Bewitched.

No such luck.

When I open them, I’m still in the arms of Jase Wade, last year’s Country Music Artist of the Year and Midnight Bay’s biggest client. We’re sponsoring his upcoming tour and I’m in charge of the promotional campaign. He’s walking temptation in tight jeans and I’ve vowed to keep it professional where he’s concerned.

Professional as in not swooning in his arms. Like I am right this very second.

Awesome.

My face probably matches my crimson lip stain right about now.

“Um, Mr. Wade, now would probably be an excellent time to put me down.” I chuckle nervously.

“You got it, Red.” He complies just in time for my boss to round the corner.

“Mr. Martin,” I say breathlessly. “I was just going to show Mr. Wade the new display. We’ll have a scaled version at each show in the VIP meet-and-greet area and I thought it would be a good idea to—”

“Sure. Great,” Alexander Martin cuts me off, as he tends to do. His uncle Bennett is the original founder of Midnight Bay, but Alex took over around the time I was hired for my internship. He’s barely thirty years old, but he’s a “time is money” type of guy and I can count on one hand the number of sentences I’ve actually finished in his presence. Jase Wade’s hand still resting on the small of my back is not something I ever intended to happen in my boss’s presence, however. “There’s been a few adjustments to the tour and I want to be sure that we’re prepared. New print materials will be sent to your office this week, Miss Breeland. I just spoke with . . .”

Mr. Martin is still talking. His squared, clean-shaven jaw is still moving, as is his mouth. But I have no idea what he’s saying because despite the fact that I’ve taken an entire step to my left, I’m still within Wade’s reach. I know this because his fingertips are still lightly brushing my lower back. Feels like he’s turned my spine into a lightning rod, so that’s a tad distracting. Glancing over at his chiseled face, I see that he’s showing no signs of being nearly as affected as I am by the contact. Clearly I need to get laid. It’s been . . . a while.

I take a deep breath and press my lips together, nodding so that Mr. Martin doesn’t realize I’ve completely lost my grip on reality.

“ . . . Walker has a solid social media presence and is fairly well-known here in Texas. So you’ll need to plan meet-and-greets for him as well. Nothing as extensive as Mr. Wade’s, of course.” Mr. Martin finishes and winks at Jase.

“You got it. I’m on it.”

I have no idea what I’m on.

“Great.” My boss grins at me with approval, then turns to Jase Wade. “Come on, Jase. I’ll introduce you to my uncle; he’s retired but he’s visiting the distillery today, and we’ll get my assistant to organize that fishing trip.”

Oh, the good ol’ boys network. How nice it must be to have a penis working in your favor. I can’t remember the last time one did me any favors. My gaze dips involuntarily to the bulge in Wade’s Wranglers.

Dear God. Stop yourself, Breeland.

But I stop myself a split second too late because when I look up, Jase’s eyes are on mine. He quirks his mouth and raises a brow. I can practically hear him asking if I see something I like.

“I’ll see you in Denver next week,” I say quickly, hoping to dispel the awkwardness