Page 28 of Bad Love

I square my shoulders even though I want to shake him. But he’s just reminded me of the boundaries of our relationship. “I’ll do some research. But it’s going to take time to get up to speed on the alternatives. Based on the sales numbers you provided, the timeline is already extremely tight. Maybe impossible.” I’m being a little peevish, but I don’t care. I can’t keep up with his wild mood swings and crazydemands.

Hunter spins the task chair around, straddling it. "Don’t tell me you're tappingout."

His posture might say casual, but every muscle in his body is onedge.

When I’d asked the Charlotte about using the ballroom and dropped his name, it was as if I’d said God wanted me to have it. Logan Hunter’s used to getting hisway.

If I didn’t know it before, I know it now. The easy frat boy is gone, and there’s an iron-willed manunderneath.

"It’s not tapping out. But I can’t do my job if I don’t know the situation.” I uncross my legs, lean closer. “This might be some kind of a joke to you, but it’s serious to me. This is my career, Hunter. I need some indication you’re going to be straight withme.”

Hunter slides his task chair closer until our knees brush and my breath hitches. “You’re not the only one with something at stake here. Trust me. I will do everything in my power to make this campaign asuccess.

“And don’t pretend all you are is abrain.”

My throat dries. “What are you talkingabout?”

He reaches for my coffee cup without breaking my gaze, holding it up between us. Now I'm watching those hands again. They're big and strong andbeautiful.

That devastating gaze meets mine. "Hearts on your coffee cup.” Hunter sets the cup down hard enough to make me jump. "I'd guess he likes your smile, your ass, and how cheery you are, which happens because he's the one serving up your caffeine. And it bothers you that he doesn't know who you are, and if he did, he wouldn't like you or you wouldn't likehim.

"Especially," he goes on, lowering his voice to a purr, "because under those sweaters and pencil skirts? I think you're a wild thing waiting to getout."

My breath sticks in my chest. "You'rewrong."

He shifts closer. "Then stop checking out my tongue ring like you're wondering how it would feel on every inch of yourbody."

I’m onfire.

I’m so distracted by his caramel eyes, his mouth, I don’t notice him reach into his pocket and produce a sheet of paper as if he’s playing a trumpcard.

My heart pounds as I reach for it, but I can already see the "My Adventures" header through the paper. The outline of themountains.

"You dropped this in the elevator yesterday,” he says, the words ringing in myears.

"I see." I tuck it into my notebook without looking atit.

“Don’t you want to know what it is?” His quiet drawl punishes me with everysyllable.

“I know what it is. Thankyou.”

I can’t meet Hunter’sgaze.

“I assume the coffee guy is the hot stranger you’re fantasizingabout.”

"Not that it’s any of your business. Butyes.”

“What’s his name?” he murmurs. A shiver tracks down my spine at the heat in hisexpression.

“I…” I want to squeeze my knees together, but I can’t. His knees are just inside mine. They weren't pressing a second ago, but the way my thighs squeezed, they are now. “That would wreck the fantasy.” I try for the dismissive cool I’ve seen other women pull off. The kind I’ve never been able tomaster.

“Right.” Hunter nods, folding his muscled arms over the back of the chair. “Tell me what kind of fantasies you have about this hot stranger.” He pauses on a wicked grin, and it’s all I can do to keep breathing. “Extra foam? Morepumps?”

His voice is a raw seam dragging across my skin, pulling every ounce of my attention to the friction betweenus.

A noise—tapping on glass—has both of us jerking our heads toward thedoor.

One of my colleagues is there, waiting. I check my watch, realizing our time is up, and I hold up two fingers.Twominutes.

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