One to Chase - Tia Louise Page 0,6
face transforms into a mask of professionalism.
The slightest smile curves the side of his mouth, and a tingle moves across my stomach. “Good catch,” he says.
“It’s not every day I have expensive technology lobbed at me.”
“My apologies. Strenuous call.”
“Opposing counsel?”
“Dry cleaners. They keep breaking my buttons.”
My lips tighten against another laugh, and I fight every urge humming under my skin. Damn him for being as witty as he is attractive.
“You are not Edward Merritt.” It’s a nice, orienting statement.
“Edward is my father.” His brows knit over green-hazel eyes as he looks down at his desk. “Who the fuck is Amalie Knight?”
“My mother was going through a French phase.” I give him a teasing wink, and his eyes flick away from mine fast. If he weren’t so composed, I might take that to mean something.
“So Amy is short for Amalie?”
“Patrick couldn’t say Amalie when he was a little boy.”
His eyebrows rise and he leans back nodding. “Right. Patrick... and Stuart’s little sister.”
His playfulness shuts down, and I refuse to let disappointment rise in my chest. So we have a nice, teasing banter to go with our blazing-hot hook-up sex. I will not be hopping out of any frying pans into any fires. My moment with this “Man in Wilmington” will remain precisely that. A moment. In Wilmington.
Lightening my tone, I force a bright smile and lay it all out there. “My mother and your sister think you can introduce me to all the right people in Chicago.”
“I doubt you need my help with that.” His eyes don’t meet mine. In fact it seems he’s avoiding my eyes now.
“I don’t, but it means a lot to them.”
That makes him look up, but only to my neck. “You’re looking for something in marketing?”
“Yes.” I swipe the screen on my phone. “Give me your number, and I’ll send you my resume. I have a finance degree from Cornell, but I minored in marketing. One of my graduate projects was a rollout for a software design company located in Ithaca. My team won an ADDY for it.”
He leans forward and reaches across the desk. “It’s probably easier if I enter my number.”
His white cuff ends just above his large hand. Neatly trimmed nails... My lip involuntarily catches in my teeth at the memory of those fingers clutching my bare ass, those large hands pulling me against his rock-hard cock, driving deep between my thighs. My back slammed against the wall, his groan in my ear as he came. Shit.
“Sure.” I blink fast, dismissing that red-hot memory as I pass my brushed-gold phone to him. “I’ve opened Messenger. Just enter your number, and I’ll send it to you.”
“We don’t have a full-time PR function in our office.” His voice is apologetic.
“Most smaller firms don’t. It’s a contract service.”
He passes the device back, watching our hands. Our fingers brush lightly, and I swear to god it sparks. Get it together, Amy.
Looking down, I see the digits and debate whether to save them. It’s a recipe for trouble, but I do it. Then I attach my resume and hit send.
“You’ve got it now.” I lift my chin, and... eye contact.
Shit on a stick. He was right in avoiding it. Looking into his smoky hazel gaze, I see all my naughty thoughts reflected right back at me.
“It’s probably best we don’t work together anyway.” Why did I say that?
An eyebrow arches, and that damn sexy grin is back. “Really? How come.” He thinks he’s got me.
“Nepotism.” He can’t honestly think I would grow up in the house of alphas I did and be weak.
“I think we’d have to be related to be accused of nepotism.”
“We practically are. I mean, with Elaine and Patrick and all.”
“My sister, your brother. There’s no relation between us.”
“I suppose that’s a good thing.” Damn my mouth. Standing, I decide it’s time for me to get the hell out of here before I say anything else. “I know you’re busy. Thanks for taking the time to meet with me.”
“I’ll give you a call if I hear anything.” He stands just as fast. “And maybe I’ll see you around.”
My eyes sweep his too-large office as I think. “It seems likely our paths will cross.”
“I hope you’ll let me buy you a drink. I seem to remember owing you one.”
“It was an open bar.” It’s the closest I’ll let him get to that night at the wedding reception. “If you owe anyone a drink, it’s Derek Alexander.”
“I’ll buy you a drink, and then you’ll owe me one.”
“That