Page 6 of Whiskey Darling
Chapter Three
Allie
Flynn Alexander doesn’t likeme.
I can tell because his firm mouth tightens with disapproval the moment I walk into his office. His eyes narrow, darting down my body and back to my face in quick assessment. The scowl gracing his lightly tanned features should distract from his incredible handsomeness, but for some bizarre reason, it only enhances it.
Makes it more potent.
Sweet mother of Jesus. This man is sex on two legs.
A strange tingle zips from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. It’s an unexpected buzz of electricity. Like the time I accidentally touched a live wire fence at a friend’s horse ranch.
Flynn doesn’t hide his reluctance while shaking my hand. Touching me almost gingerly, his hand is warm. And hard. I bite my lip. The sparks igniting from our skin to skin contact is unexpected. He releases me almost instantly.
Maybe I’m suffering from a strange episode of jetlag. This sudden dizziness could be a weird, California-borne illness. Maybe it’s a case of instant lust.
Maybe Flynn Alexander feels this physical reaction, too.
Or maybe he doesn’t.
No. Of course, he doesn’t. That stuff only happens in romance books.
My new boss doesn’t feel a thing. At least, not the same wild bombshells blowing up inside me. With an unbearably sexy, barely-there, five o’clock shadow, his square jaw is set tight, his expression so smooth I wonder if he feels anything at all.
Flynn rakes his fingers through a tumble of jet-black hair while I wipe sweaty palms down my dark grey skirt. The simple, sleeveless white blouse I’m wearing, the one Jade insisted was a perfect combination of class and edgy style, gets a needless tug. My wobbly state unnerves me more than the four-inch-high heels I’m teetering on.
I’m usually icicle cool, but the way this man studies me as though he can see right through me destroys any hope for composure.
“How old are you, Miss Darling?” Flynn abruptly asks.
One month ago, his partner was dead set that Devil’s Gold Whiskey Distilleries needed me. Sawyer asserted I am the elusive missing component they’ve searched for. A secret weapon that will catapult their products into worldwide success.
I have the distinct impression Mr. Flynn Alexander hasnotbeen looking for me. Quite the opposite, I get the impression he’d rather not have met me at all.
Sawyer flashes me a guilty smile and frowns at Flynn.
“Miss Darling?” Flynn’s sharp tone has my gaze clashing with his. One dark brow raises high as he repeats his question. “How old are you?”
Ahh.He doesn’t believe I can do the job. I’d bet every vintage bottle stashed in my father’s private reserve that Flynn had no idea Sawyer hired me until it was a done deal.
The doubt flashing in his eyes is a challenge. It centers me. Reminds me who I am and that I’m very good at what I do.
Allie Darling, top of my class at Vanderbilt. Magna Cum Laude graduate with dual degrees in Business Administration and Marketing. After a year in Ireland to learn the business of whiskey, I walked away from Connor Morgan, his mind games, and his job offer. Even after he begged me to stay, claiming it would be a terrible mistake if I left, I didn’t look back.
I was never sure if Connor thought that mistake was his failure in securing me as a permanent employee, or in making me a conquest on his list of lovers.
My job with Devil’s Gold Whiskey will be to grow its market with women. I’m not here to stand around, staring dreamily at my new boss, marveling over how heart-meltingly beautiful he is. They are lucky to get me because what I do isextraordinary.I can detect the subtle nuances, the flavors of almost every whiskey poured for me. My memory, tastebuds, and nose for a spirit’s bouquet are so refined, so attuned, so uncanny, that identifying the maker, barrel, flavors, and age is second nature. Combined with my marketing and social media skills, it’s a lethal combo.
Before arriving in California, I researched the company and this man regarding me so dispassionately. Stalking the internet proved frustrating. You can learn a great deal from a person’s online social footprint but Flynn Alexander hardly has one.
He is a mystery. Wealthy. Extremely private. Handsome beyond belief, with inky black hair brushing the nape of his neck and thickly-lashed, dark bronze eyes. Tall, leanly muscular, his skin is burnished a light golden tan from the California sun.
And his jawline. Good God, his jawline… If it wasn’t for the protective layer of shadow softening it, it could slice through my bones. Angled with such sharp perfection, it might as well be honed from a slab of granite.
I’ve never seen a man with such flawlessly shaped lips. The damage he must inflict on a woman with that mouth…
Oh, Allie, get a grip!
