Page 22 of Stuffed

"Technically, I was the one sitting on his desk," I admit, holding up another dress before tossing it aside. “And technically, I was the one who let my skirt slide sneakily up my thigh while biting my bottom lip—but yes, he asked."

"After youtechnicallyseduced him with financial reports."

"I wouldn’t use the word seduce—" I pause, thinking about how I'd deliberately perched on his desk and adjusted my glasses more than necessary. "Okay, maybe I played it up a little."

"A little?" She snorts. "You went full sexy librarian on him!"

"It worked, didn't it?" I pull out a deep-blue wrap dress that hits just above my knees. "What about this one?"

"Perfect." She sits up, grinning. "Shows just enough skin to drive him crazy but still leaves something to the imagination. Though after this morning's performance, I'm not sure he needs much imagination."

"Stop!" But I'm laughing as I lay out the dress. "God, you should have seen his face when I started talking about Q3 projections. I don't think he heard a word I said."

"Because you were doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"That thing you did in high school that always had the guys eating out of your hand.” She tilts her head, lifting her shoulder as she flutters her lashes. “Your nervous habit of acting shy that apparently drives not only old high school crushes but stoic businessmen wild.”

“I do not do that!”

“You absolutely do. And it’s working.” She checks her phone. “Two hours until he picks you up. Nervous?”

“Terrified,” I admit, sinking onto the bed beside her. “What if this goes horribly wrong? What if he shuts down again? I mean, it’s so fun doing this flirty song and dance,will we, won’t wething, but ugh, I just want him to kiss me already."

"Then you'll know you tried." She squeezes my hand. "But something tells me that won’t be an issue for you very much longer. With the way that man was eating you alive at the bakery, I think Mr. Ice King is finally ready to thaw."

"He better be because I'm running out of suggestive ways to discuss profit margins."

There’s a sharp knock on my door at exactly eight. Of course he's punctual.

“Are you staying here or should I suggest his place if things… progress?”

Ivy laughs, standing up from my bed. “I’m heading out to Asher’s actually.” She glances at her watch. “I’ll lock your place up when I leave in a few.”

“Thanks, have fun with Asher!” I wriggle my eyebrows and turn to race to the door.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Ivy calls as I grab my clutch.

"That leaves a lot of options open," I shout back, checking myself one last time in the mirror in my hallway. The dressfits perfectly, showing off curves I usually keep hidden under business attire. My hair falls in soft waves past my shoulders, and yes, I'm wearing the glasses. Just in case.

I open the door and nearly swallow my tongue.

Zane in a suit is one thing. But Zane in dark jeans and a charcoal sweater that clings to every muscle? That should be illegal.

"Hi," I manage.

His eyes drag over me slowly, lingering on the dress, the heels, the glasses… my breasts. His tongue darts out slowly, sliding across his bottom lip as he takes in a sharp breath. "Hi, yourself."

"You clean up nice." Understatement of the century.

"So do you." His voice is rougher than usual. "Ready?"

"I am." I step out, deliberately brushing against him. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." His hand settles on my lower back as he guides me down the hallway toward the elevator, and that simple touch sends electricity down my spine. His subtle cologne hits me when the doors slide shut. I expect him to remove his hand once inside, but he doesn’t. Instead, it stays pressed against my lower back where it threatens to burn through my dress.

"Still being mysterious, Mr. Mercer?"

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