Page 23 of Bad Love

The elevator continues, slow and jerky, stopping at floors on itsascent.

On an impulse I’m not sure of, I blurt, “I’m not the marketing director at Hunter’sCross.”

When it’s just us, she turns back to me fully, her brows pulling together. “What do youmean?”

“I do advertising. Social. Product development. Someone else does the logistics.” Her gaze searches mine as though she’s not sure why I told her. That makes two of us. For some fucking reason, I can’t stop now. This gilded elevator is my confessional, and she’s my priest. “My family doesn’t know. I’ve been keeping it from them. And now I just toldyou.”

Her expressionsoftens.

I’m not sure what I expect her to say, but it’s not, “I’ve been told I have a very trustworthyface.”

I half laugh. “Must beit.”

The elevator draws to a slow stop, and she turns toward the doors—and me. We both realize we’re inches apart, and I can smell her body washagain.

Some kind of flowers and herbs with—judging by my reaction—a dash ofcrack.

I clear my throat. "Anyway. I hope you can set aside our obvious chemistry to help me sellvibrators."

“Right.” Kendall nods quickly, dragging my attention to all that red hair spilling over her shoulders. My fingers itch. “We need to meet aboutthat."

"You have recommendations for me in less than aweek?"

"I had recommendations in forty-eight hours. It's my job, Hunter. I'm good, and I'mfast."

Jesus.Those words drop me right out of the hotel and into some limbo dimension where it's me and her and that mouth telling me how good and fast she is while I wrap that gorgeous hair around my hand and find out firsthand if those freckles extend to other parts of herbody.

I love women who aren't afraid to admit they're awesome. Kendall moves from impressing me to turning me on so quickly it's hard to keepup.

"I look forward to it,” I murmur, my voice lower than it was a minute ago. Whatever expression is on my face has her eyes flashing and lips parting as the elevator doorsopen.

This is business, I remind myself. I know I can win this bet, but the last thing I should be doing is distracting the woman who’s going to take care of it forme.

Of the ten thousand women I need to please, Kendall Sullivan isn’t one ofthem.

Besides. With my luck, she’ll fall for me. Starry-eyed, cock-struck.

Because the things I’d do to every inch of her body—from those sexy ankles to those small breasts to her full lips—would ruin her for anyoneelse.

Kendall steps out of the elevator but trips, the computer bag slingshotting forward and throwing her off balance. Her notebook slips out and lands on the floor. She's picking it up when the elevator doors close. I move quickly, my body colliding withhers.

With a strangled noise, she falls into the hallway, and I land on top of her, bracing just in time to avoid crushingher.

Kendall stares up from under me. "What thehell?"

“Nineteen-twenties elevator," I rasp. “Good for transporting prohibition brews and flappers faster than stairs. Less good for modern requirements. Youokay?”

She looks as if she's trying to decide if I'm full of shit, at least until I hold up the notebook. “Takes more than an elevator to knock medown.”

The steel edge to her voice has me curious what other shit life has thrown at her. But then Kendall reaches for the notebook, our fingers meeting on the crumpled cover over the “LIVE YOURDREAMS.”

Her body wash seeps into my brain again, and suddenly all I want is to drop my face to her neck to get more of it. Maybe brush my lips along her collarbone to see if she's as soft as shelooks.

“Hunter?” she whispers, her wide-eyed gaze inches frommine.

My voice is rough. “Yeah.”

“You can get upnow.”

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