Page 17 of The Charmer's Gambit
“Of course. Go woo the client, baby girl. You’ve got this.”
Those last three words used to empower me. That was before I understood their purpose. “Thanks,” I forced out, my temporary strength forgotten.
He blew a few kisses through the phone before hanging up, and I threw myself into the pillows behind me. I pulled one over my face and fought the urge to scream. It was that or throw my mobile across the room. I’d done that before. My bank account hated me for it.
“Fuck!” The feathers muffled my yell, so I did it again. And again. Over and over, while my body trembled with rage.
“You know, darlin’.” The deep male drawl chased away my unease, replacing it with a hotter emotion. One that slid overmy body like a forbidden caress, causing all my limbs to lock in place. “A man might get the wrong idea after finding a woman lying in his bed and screaming, ‘Fuck,’ over and over again.”
6
Cursing in Bed
I pulled the pillow away from my head and stared up into a pair of amused brown eyes. Will’s hands were in his pockets, his stance casual. The desire to grab a fistful of his shirt and yank him down hit me hard in the lower abdomen. It’d been far too long since a man touched me.
Time seemed to stand still as his gaze dropped to my mouth. Intensity replaced amusement, causing his pupils to flare. Suddenly he didn’t seem so relaxed, and I didn’t feel nearly as tense. What would he do if I grabbed him? He stood less than a foot away. It wouldn’t be difficult.
Heat fluttered across my skin as my breathing shallowed. Will’s innate sexual confidence seemed to fill the room, making my hormones go to war with reason. My attraction to him was never a question, but I knew better than to follow through on it. That didn’t stop my nipples from hardening against my lacy bra. He must have noticed, because he glanced down, then continued his survey in a slow motion that felt like a caress against my skin.
This is it. After weeks of what felt like verbal foreplay, he was finally going to make his move and prove the real reason for wanting me on this case. Relief mingled with disappointment. Iwanted him on a base level and would certainly enjoy a night in his bed, but a small part of me hoped he considered me more valuable than just another conquest.Oh well, at least he’ll end my bout of forced celibacy, and help—
Will cleared his throat and took a step back.
“Pizza’s here.” His tone lacked the usual teasing quality I’d come to associate with him. “I’ll be in the living area.”
I stared after him as he sauntered out of the room.Wait, what? Had I misread his body language? No. No way. I knew what desire looked like, and it practically radiated from him. But he’d walked away. Without even an inkling of hesitation. He had to have sensed my acceptance, right?
I frowned. Sarah teased me about my constant cold shoulder, a habit I developed to thwart male advances. Was it so much a part of me that I’d let it follow me into the bedroom? A glance down at my exposed legs sent heat crawling up my neck. No. Definitely not a cold-shoulder issue. If anything, my hiked-up skirt lent a desperate appearance, and my hair probably looked like a hot mess thanks to the pillows.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and grimaced. How unprofessional did I look sprawled out on a client’s bed, screaming,Fuck!on repeat? On top of that, in my mentally tired state, I misread Will’s expression. I shook my head to clear it.
The calm, collected, confident version of myself settled over my shoulders as I rolled off the bed. The bathroom mirror confirmed the bird’s nest on my head. I ran my fingers through the unruly blonde waves and used the hair tie around my wrist to pull it all back into a messy bun. Not the most professional, but better than before. Tucking my blouse back into place, I smoothed my hands over my wrinkled skirt, grabbed the phone I’d left on the bed, and headed back into the living room.
Will was seated at the dining table, reading something on his laptop, when I entered. The pizza box sat untouched, with twoplates off to the side and our wine glasses. Mine appeared to be full again. I picked it up by the stem, took two fortifying sips, and busied myself with serving the pizza while he studied his screen.
After a minute, he shut the lid. “Your firm sent over the proposal,” he murmured as he accepted the plate I held out for him. No sign of awkwardness or acknowledgment of what just happened in the bedroom.Maybe it was all in my head?
“Do you agree to the terms?” I asked, voice professional.
“Most of them. I’ll need to confer with Garrett on a few items.” His forearms flexed as he sliced through the monstrosity of sauce, cheese, and crust in front of him. Who knew eating Chicago-style pizza could be sexy? He made it look like a work of art as he popped a bite into his mouth and waggled his brows.
“Not bad for a Southerner,” I teased before following suit.Mmm. There were pepperonis hiding beneath the cheese. Always a delectable surprise.
“Not my first time,” he replied. “So who was on the phone?”
I almost choked on the food in my mouth. It took a minute to remember how to chew and swallow. I followed it with a healthy sip of wine. “Uh, no one important.”Yeah, that’s convincing.
“?‘No one important’ makes you scream profanities, huh?” Incredulity colored his tone, but his expression remained playful as he devoured another masterful bite of cheesy goodness. “The proposal lists you as the primary contact but Janet as the project lead. How do you feel about that?”
The change in topic was jarring. I expected him to press harder, but he dropped it. Because he recognized my discomfort, or because he didn’t actually care?
“The firm considers you a lucrative client,” I replied. “It makes sense to assign a partner as the lead.”
“But you’ll be doing all the work.”
I shrugged. “That’s how the business operates.”
“That’s not how I run my company.”
