Page 45 of The Candlemaker

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem for me to hang out here and make sure you don’t do anything extreme.”

“Like suggesting we sleep in an abandoned inn to prove it’s not haunted?”

God, that mouth of hers.Fire oozed under my skin. The things I wanted to do to her smart mouth…the things I wanted to let her smart mouth do to me.Not smart. Not smart at all.

“Like setting up and faking ghost activity to ensure you win the deal.”

The dropper in her fingers tumbled onto the counter, splattering several drops of scented oil on top.

“Really? Is that what you think?” she said flatly, but I swore the color in her cheeks deepened.

“You set up a sidewalk séance.”

“That was different.” She wiped the drops of oil so vigorously, she looked about to rub a hole in the counter. “You’re the one who suggested we sleep there. Not me.”

“True, but…”

“But what?” Now, she faced me, hips cocked on one side and arms folded.

“You’re not one to back down from an opportunity when it presents itself,” I said and stepped closer, watching the hitch of her breath.

“Who would?” She notched her chin higher; it was meant in defiance, but all it did was put her mouth—her fucking delicious, damaging mouth—in line with mine.

“Someone who recognizes when they’re playing with fire.”

Her eyes lowered to my mouth, the color in them shifting from bronze to molten amber. The kind that fossilized every fleck of desire in them. “Lucky for me, that’s all I do.”

I should look away—step away. I was way beyond all the lines I should’ve stayed behind—way beyond any semblance of business being here.

My gaze left the depths of hers to roam her face. Freckles dusted her nose and cheeks, hidden by the pink of her blush—a shade of rose that was darkened and then echoed in the full swells of her lips.Fierce and so fucking kissable.

My head lowered, drawn to her—to the scent of her. Cinnamon. Sweet but subtly sharp, luring you in with honeyed warmth, and only when you went to move away did you realize the hooks left in you made it impossible to smell anythingwithout a hint of it.Impossible to do anything without thinking of her.

And that was a problem.

“So, you’re going to booby trap the inn?” I asked and took a step back,the distance like a hit to my gut as it stole all the oxygen from my lungs.

“And how would I do that?” She scoffed and spun back to her mixing station on the counter.

My eyes locked on the open bottle of scented oil, and I reached for it without thinking, needing something to chase the scent of her away.

“What—”

“Is that…cherry?”

I caught the slight widening of her eyes, a burst of admiration warming her expression for a split second before she shielded it. This woman…she didn’t admire my billions or my business or my looks, she admired that I could identify a damn scent.

“Black cherry.”

“Right,” I murmured, taking one more breath before she plucked it from my fingers.

“Look, I have work to do, but if you insist on staying?—”

“I do.”

“Then you’re going to work, too,” she said, flashing me a breezy smile before pulling out a box from underneath the counter and shoving it against my chest. “Follow me.”

I got lost in the sway of her hips, unable to focus on what I was carrying or where, until she spun and my eyes snapped back to hers.

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