Page 20 of Cocky Tech God

“Hello.” My bag slipped and I quickly lifted it over my shoulder. “Do you have a moment?”

He glanced back at a gorgeous brunette wearing a tropical print maxi-dress. “Yes, but just a moment. My wife is waiting for me.”

“Oh, of course.” I smiled at her, and she smiled back. Okay, I literally had a second to make an impression. I straightened and threw all caution to the wind. “Would you like to have a dinner meeting with me? I know I am presenting to you later this week, but I would like to get to know more about you, and for you to know more about me.” I held my breath. The worst he could say was ‘no’. Another rejection wouldn’t devastate me—I’ve heard many. Each no had only made me more determined.

“Dinner, what a fabulous idea.” The voice came from behind me. That damn slick, deep voice that made my stomach flop over.

“Hansen.” Graham turned his attention to Hansen, who now stood beside me with his hand out to shake his. “Good job on the panel this morning.”

“I appreciate that, Graham.” Hansen winked at me.

I wanted to kill him dead in the middle of The Ritz-Carlton. Of course it was hard to imagine murdering him when my gaze caught on his mouth as he spoke, and the remembrances of our night came back in hot, insatiable flashes. This man was incredible, and had more audacity than should be allowed by a single person. And he bulldozed my invitation to Mr. Morgan.

“Hansen, you really did a fantastic job. But do you mind giving me a minute with Mr. Morgan?” My voice was light, cheery even. I didn’t want to come off as rude in front of Graham. But Hansen knew me, and he knew I wasn’t cheery in the least. I was pissed.

“You were just discussing dinner? Right?” Hansen said, his gaze moving to Graham and then to me again. “I’m in. If it’s a group thing, that is.”

What? No! But I couldn’t say no because Graham beamed at the idea.

“Yes, I like that idea,” Graham said.

Discreetly, I stepped on Hansen’s Prada loafer and pressed down. Hard. He jerked his foot away, not a grimace on his face.

“Fantastic,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Thank you for suggesting, Lucia. I look forward to it.” Graham glanced back to his wife, still waiting patiently for him. “I’ll have my assistant set it up.”

Just like that, he and his wife were gone, swallowed by the crowd.

I sighed heavily. Hansen and I needed to get something straight. And fast.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing, Holte?” I stepped in his personal space.

He shrugged as if he was innocent. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

I crossed my arms. “Wait a minute… You’re afraid I really will win. Aren’t you? You’re afraid of…me.”

His eyes darkened, and his pearly whites gone. He stepped in, and now our stomachs were only inches apart. “I’m not afraid of anything, sweetheart.”

Nothing existed outside our closeness, our bubble. Had the crowd not been so dense with people, our closeness could be misconstrued as intimacy. Even I grappled with the pull of desire he had on me. The pull of the memory of having kissed him, having heard him reach an orgasm in my presence affected me in a way it shouldn’t have.

I stepped back because my confusion grew into something I couldn’t quite control being so close to him. So I said the only thing I could think to say, double meaning be damned. “You should be.” With those words, I slipped into the cattle drive of the attendees.

Later, after walking around and taking several business cards, and giving out several of my own cards, I slowed my pace to take a breath. I hadn’t gone to the cocktail reception yet. Hansen would surely be there, and I was still too keyed up to face him again with a smile on my face and the nonchalance I used to have with him.

“Hey…” A deep Australian-accented voice came from behind. A tap on my shoulder followed. “Lucia, right?”

Turning on my flats, I set my gaze on gleaming blue eyes. He was tall, tanned, and good looking, with a mop of blond hair. “That’s right. Have we met?”

“No…” He shook his head, combing back a rogue chunk of hair out of his eye. “I’m Brett Doran. I was in the workshop this morning with Calista and Holte.”

“Oh. That.” Several attendees had stopped me to chat about that very workshop. My question stirred the crowd more than I had anticipated.

He waved his hand. “No, it’s nothing bad. I thought you were smashing in there. I mean, that really was a brilliant question.”

“Really? I think Calista was a bit annoyed with my questions.” I laughed. I pushed it with the panel, but I needed to make a point and show the them that I wasn’t afraid.

He snickered. “That was more than obvious.”

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