The Mix-Up (Southern Hearts Club #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,23

essentially our sales pitch, and we’re selling us. TCG. As the senior account manager assigned to this project, I will be leading the presentation.

And if Ryder didn’t have to be in the room with me, I’d be hunky-freaking-dory right now. What if I’m incapable of maintaining my composure around him, now that he’s basically thrown down the sex gauntlet?

Mute that poison, youngin’. Gretchen Castellanos loses her composure for no man.

Well, if the old hag thinks I can do it, then it must be so.

I’m standing behind my desk chair, bent over as I click the mouse to finish printing out the rest of the documents I need for the meeting, when I hear someone enter my cubicle behind me. When nothing is said and silence reins over the space, I instinctively know who it is. I purposely snap my head to the side to catch him in the act.

Which I do.

As predicted, Ryder’s eyes are shooting laser beams at my ass.

A wicked thrill zings through me. I won’t even try to paint on an indignant expression or act in any way like it bothers me. Let him look, let him want. Because I’m looking and I’m wanting, too.

But you’re not taking.

When he realizes he’s been busted, he doesn’t look guilty in the least. He simply closes his mouth, adjusts his cufflinks, and clears his throat. “Ready?”

Turning my head to hide my shit-eating smirk, I grab the last few pages from the printer. “Yep.”

Fifteen minutes later, Regina escorts our maybe-clients into the conference room, a Mr. Chadwick and a Mr. Baldwin. Chadwick looks to be in his late fifties, with silver hair and a gold wedding band. Baldwin, however, is lacking both of those. He’s a younger man, I’m guessing mid-thirties, with short black hair and a killer smile. Definitely attractive, though nowhere near Ryder’s magnetic appeal.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Ryder greets them, shaking their hands. He waves to me. “This is one of my senior account managers, Gretchen Castellanos.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Castellanos,” Chadwick says with a friendly smile. He looks like the type of paternal figure who’s happiest when he’s in a house full of tiny tots. Like a smooth-faced Santa Claus.

After returning his greeting, I offer my hand to Baldwin. “Very nice to meet you.”

He takes my hand, his smile less friendly. It’s not unfriendly. There’s just something like…intent regard behind his sharp eyes.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he says smoothly.

When he gives my fingers a meaningful squeeze, I know I’ve got one on the hook that I never intended to bait. After he eventually pulls back to take his proffered seat, I catch Ryder’s gaze.

Ohmylantagoodgraciousme.

Boss man did not like that.

In fact, he looks like he’s performing Darth Vader’s Force Choke on poor Baldwin. I’m surprised the man doesn’t start clutching his throat and gasping for air. Then Ryder swings that seething glare over to me, his expression accusatory.

And what the hell have I done?

He can just stow that fussy attitude and get over himself.

The three men take their seats at the table while I stand in front of the projector screen and go through my presentation slides. Ryder and I both explain what their ad campaign would entail, as well as the kind of return-on-investment they could see with each project based on our market research, broken down by geography and demographics.

As I’m clicking through the slides and detailing every line item, I feel Ryder’s eyes dragging down my body, drinking me in. The only time he removes his gaze is when one of the men asks him a question, or he tacks on to something I’ve said. My palms grow damp around the remote as my body starts to react to the unspoken lust crawling across the table and seeping into my feverish skin. It’s a deep, penetrating lust that leaves my mouth so dry I have to stop my speech periodically to take a sip of water. I know my cheeks are flushed because I can feel sweat gathering at the nape of my neck. I don’t allow myself to look at him, but it doesn’t make a difference.

I feel him.

Everywhere.

I also feel Baldwin’s gaze. Chadwick is paying more attention to the informational packet in front of him, nodding in agreement and commenting to Baldwin in a low voice. But Baldwin’s eyes remain squarely locked on me the entire time. If I wasn’t so tuned in to my boss and hate-crushing on him, I’d probably be into the dude. If I met him ten months ago and