one of my T-shirts.”
“I’ll be fine. Go, get out of that dress.”
Those words combined with that sexy tone of his had her sighing. He’d promised not to mention sex, but the man practically oozed it with every action, every word.
“Can you wait in the hall for a second?” she asked.
Taking his own flashlight, Braden stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Zara quickly shoved her bras into her drawer and whipped her snug dress over her head. She peeled off her stockings and tossed them into a drawer, too. She really wanted to lose the bra, but she couldn’t get that comfortable with her sexy guest.
As she pulled on a pair of leggings and an oversize sweatshirt, Zara truly wished she’d met Braden under different circumstances. Maybe then they could explore this attraction, but she couldn’t risk intimacy when she needed this job, this recognition too much. She’d only had her grandmother, and now she was gone. There was no husband, no other family to fall back on if her financial world crumbled. Her company was only a year old, and being tied to the O’Sheas would launch her into a new territory of clientele.
Yes, the rumors of O’Shea’s Auction House being the front for illegal activity had been abuzz for years—decades, even—but the mystery surrounding the family only kept people more intrigued, so Zara would gladly ride the coattails of their popularity.
After sliding on a pair of fuzzy socks and pulling her hair into a ponytail, Zara opened the door. Braden was texting but glanced up at her and slid his phone back into his pocket.
“I had to check in with the security team. I try to keep them updated on my whereabouts.”
“Oh, you don’t have to explain yourself.”
“You look...different.”
With a shrug, Zara glanced down to her outfit. “This is me in my downtime. I’m pretty laid-back.”
Why did the room seem so much smaller when he came back in from the hallway? Why did he have such a presence about him that demanded attention? And how the hell did she act? What was the proper protocol for bringing your billionaire boss to your house and then having him spend the night? Milk and cookies? Bourbon and a cigar? She honestly didn’t know the man on a personal level.
Zara’s cell vibrated on her dresser. With the screen facing down, she didn’t see the caller before she picked it up and automatically slid her finger over the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hey, I wanted to make sure you made it home okay.”
“Shane.”
Zara’s eyes darted to Braden. In the dim light she could see his narrowed gaze, his jaw clenched.
“I know I acted like a jerk earlier, but I want another chance with you and I was worried about you getting home in this storm.”
Were his words slurring?
“Shane, it’s nearly one in the morning. Are you drunk?”
He must’ve shifted, because there was the slightest bit of static coming through the phone before he continued. “I miss you, Zara.”
She turned her back to Braden and rubbed her forehead. “I got home safe. Thanks for checking, but we really are over, Shane. Good night.”
“Don’t hang up.” Now his voice rose, as if the real Shane was emerging. “You’re selfish, you know that? I’m trying to talk to you, and you’re already dismissing me. We were good together, you know it.”
“No, we weren’t, and I’m done with—”
Suddenly the phone was ripped from her hand. Zara whirled around as Braden hit the end button and then turned the phone off.
“You won’t explain yourself to him.”
Zara sighed. Damn it, why did he have to be right? “He’s not been this persistent until the past week or so. I’m not sure why he wants to get back together so bad, but I swear he won’t affect my work with you.”
Braden closed the gap between them and stared down at her. The darkness slashing over half his face made him seem even more menacing, more intriguing.
“I don’t give a damn about that. I know you’re a professional. But I’m not going to stand here and listen to you defend yourself to an asshole who doesn’t deserve you.”
“Wow.” Zara crossed her arms and tried to process Braden’s words, his angry tone. “Um...thanks.”
Unsure what to do next, Zara glanced around the room. “I guess I’ll just grab a blanket and pillow and lie down. I’m pretty beat.”
The strain of the evening had seriously taken its toll on her, and all she wanted to do was crawl on to her chaise and fall dead asleep. Okay, maybe that wasn’t all she wanted to do, but doing her boss was out of the question.
By the time she’d gotten situated on the chaise, she glanced to her bed where Braden sat on the edge staring in her direction.
“What?”
“Are you going to be comfortable? I didn’t expect to take your bed.”
Seeing him there, knowing her sheets would smell like him long after he was gone, was just another layer of arousal she didn’t need.
“I’m perfectly comfortable. You’re the one still in a suit.”
With a soft laugh, he shook his head. In moments, he had his jacket off and was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt.
“Uh, wait. Are you undressing? Because—”
“Zara.” His hands froze on the buttons. “I’m just taking my shirt off.”
Just taking his shirt off. To which he will no doubt expose a chest she’ll want to stare at. With the light from the gas fireplace and the candle on the nightstand, she could see perfectly fine.
And yup. He’d taken his black dress shirt off and revealed an amazingly sculpted chest, smattered with dark hair and...was that ink on his arm?
“You’re staring,” he said without looking up at her. “You’re going to make me blush.”
Zara laughed. “I highly doubt you blush, let alone over a woman looking at you.” Because why deny the fact she had been? She’d been caught, but she didn’t care. The man was worth a good, long stare. “Good night, Braden.”
* * *
Her damn floral scent mocked him as he lay on top of her plush comforter. With his hands laced behind his head, Braden stared up at the ceiling watching the orange flickering glow from the candle. He wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. Besides the fact he had every intention of getting back up to check out the house after Zara had gone to sleep, how the hell could he actually rest when the object of his desire was lying only feet away?
He
