Page 36 of Serving the Mogul

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Looking away, I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s in the past, and I prefer to keep it that way. But I learned an important lesson from it—never mix business with pleasure. I want this project, and even if I am attracted to you, I can’t pass up a job like this.”

I half expected him to brush me off and tell me he’d changed his mind.

But he didn’t.

“Very well. Business it is. Why don’t you tell me how we can get started?”

“Um.” Unsettled by the easy acquiescence, I looked around. “I have to take some pictures.”. Sticking to the original style will simplify the proposal, but if you want options, I can provide them too.”

“Let’s finish looking around,” he said. He picked up my bag and brought it to me. “I’d like your input on a few things before I decide.”

As we worked for the next hour, we were almost in silence, speaking only to ask or answer questions.

Maximus was quiet. It was almost…unsettling, especially after he’d spent the past several days trying to talk to me. I kept waiting for him to change his mind, but whatever thoughts he had, he kept to himself.

“What’s the other project you’ve got going?” he asked as I finished jotting down the last of the measurements I needed.

“I haven’t gotten the formal go-ahead yet, but it’s for a local shelter called Hattie’s Place. They specialize in providing temporary housing and jobs training for women fleeing abusive home environments.”

“Yeah?” He stopped and looked at me, a spark of interest lighting his eyes.

A little surprised at the response, I nodded. “Yes. The board is meeting today to go over the proposal. If they give it the okay, we’ll start work soon.”

He asked more questions. I answered, pausing a few times while taking notes.

“I think that will do for now,” I said, zipping the iPad into my pack. I took another long look at the lobby and blew out a breath. In my mind, I could already envision the finished result. In the glamorous 1920s, before the Great Depression, they had built the Biscayne with luxury in mind. But a luxurious style has many facets. I needed to know what sort of clientele Maximus had in mind.

I turned to ask him—and ended up pressed against him.

His hands cupped my face, and before I could think to resist, his mouth was on mine.

I moaned. My bag fell from my limp fingers. Reaching for Maximus, I curled my fingers into his shirt and clung to him.

I gleefully pressed myself closer.

His hand gripped my butt, and he pulled me in tight, pressing his erection against my belly.

Hot pangs of longing pulsed and spread outward. My blood was carrying the message to every part of my body. I wanted him. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything.

It scared the hell out of me.

But I didn’t push him away.

Finally, the kiss ended, neither one of us breaking away from the other.

Heart thundering in my ears, I stared into his dark brown eyes. He stroked his hand up, then down my back—long, lazy caresses designed to soothe, not entice. I felt like a cat, ready to stretch out and arch under his touch.

“Why did you do that?” I whispered, my lips still tingling from his kiss.

“Because I wanted to. I’ve been dreaming about kissing you again ever since you left my place.” He cupped my cheek in his free hand and brushed his thumb over my lower lip. “And because the taste of you haunts me. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m not worried about mixing business with pleasure, Tina. We can have both.”

I wished I could believe him.

Disentangling myself, I stepped free. “I’m not so sure that’s possible, James.”

“I assume you’ve tried before and ended up burned.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, the brooding expression returning to darken his features once more.

“You could put it that way,” I muttered. Brushing my hair back from my face, I scooped my bag up from the ground. I needed to get out of here before I questioned everything.

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