Page 81 of The Playboy

“And you think that’s the best idea?” my brother asked.

My head turned even though I was looking at the bank of elevators.

Is he serious?

“Are you questioning my decision?”

“I know you wouldn’t suggest this unless you really believed she was good for the Spade brand, brother. You wouldn’t put our company in that situation—none of us would. What I’m questioning is whether you think it’s a good decision to have her work beneath you since you’ll be spearheading that division.”

A detail I’d intentionally left out when I told Brooklyn about the job. I knew working beneath me would bother her and that the lack of separation between our personal and business lives would be even harder for her.

And now, Cooper was bringing it up because he saw a problem with it too.

Damn.

“I’m going to take your silence as either, one, the logistics of that arrangement haven’t even entered your head or, two, you have no idea how to navigate those waters.” He was silent as I walked into the elevator. “My guess is two.”

“She doesn’t know I’m leading that team. I told her the interview wouldn’t be with me.”

“Which isn’t a lie. If she came as a personal referral, which she did, you wouldn’t interview her. Brady, Jo, or I would. That’s standard protocol.”

“But I withheld that information because I knew it would bother her. Shit is already complicated. Being her boss—that would end things before they even really began.” I pressed the button for my floor and leaned against the back wall. “Her favorite fucking word ismuddy. Can you imagine how dirty it would be if she had to report to me? And take my orders?”

I couldn’t let that happen.

“Listen, you’ll figure this out, whether that means having her work for our brand or not. Just don’t put yourself in a situation where it has to be one or the other. Both can happen, and you’ll find a way.”

“I know. I’ll find it.” I stepped out of the elevator and waved my key card in front of my door.

“You really like her, don’t you.” Cooper wasn’t asking; he was telling me.

I filled my lungs with the scent that the housekeeper had sprayed in my room when they did the turndown service. “You know I do.”

“That was one hell of a quick response.” I could hear the asshole smiling. “And, fuck, that makes me happy.”

TWELVE

Brooklyn

My body was on fire. Tingling from head to toe. There was a slickness between my legs that I felt every time I shifted in the driver’s seat. A hardness in my nipples that ached as they pushed against my bra.

This was what Macon had done to me.

He lit me up.

And during every past occasion, he’d licked those flames until they were dying embers.

Except for tonight.

It was my fault. I’d told him I couldn’t separate work and pleasure, which was true—the line between the two was too gray. He was giving me the most incredible opportunity to interview with his company—a company that shared the same last name as him. How awful would it look if I was sleeping with one of the executives? If after I got the job—and that was a big assumption, but still—I continued to sleep with him? If I was thinking about him instead of my responsibilities?

But the thing was, I wanted to sleep with him.

I wanted to think about him.

And this was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to get involved with him. These thoughts were far too muddy. These questions were owning my mind in a way I couldn’t handle. In a way that was overlapping the time I spent at work and doing schoolwork.

Because all I thought about was him.

---