unhooked a satchel from her shoulder and dumped it unceremoniously on the sleek cream leather couch on one side of the room, bending over to rummage through it, giving him a nice view of a pretty fine backside. She might be slight, but he’d felt enough curves as she’d pressed into him to give any red-blooded man pause.
“Gotcha!” she said, standing upright, her profile lit with a happy little smile.
Contentment, he thought again, feeling something akin to envy at her easy pleasure. At how he’d barely swiped his mouth across hers before she’d started trembling.
He ran a hand up the back of his head several times to get his brain into gear. It was fine. Under other circumstances their unexpected chemistry might be a hindrance, but in this case it would help make them convincing.
And the deal was a good one. Saskia seemed cluey—the kind of person who just got on with things. She didn’t seem demanding, or clingy, or prone to tears and pouts. The antithesis of his sisters, in fact.
His tension eased. A little.
She caught his eye, then waved a couple of folders at him before throwing them onto the coffee table, where his assistant had earlier left an assortment of nibbles for their meeting, and moving his way.
“Your desk is so neat!” she said as she moved to perch on the edge of the black chair on the other side of his desk. The chair that had made Gabe look so big only a few days before made Saskia look like some kind of waif. “How do you know where anything is?”
“It’s where it’s meant to be.”
Her mouth twisted sideways. Then she shrugged. “What are you working on?” she asked, pitching forward. The whirls of lace beneath her cardigan scooped low, giving him a glimpse of the sweet rise of the flesh within.
“Contracts,” he said, endeavouring to keep his eyes on hers even as his body reacted viscerally, remembering how she’d felt in his arms—warm, soft, all woman. “New gaming company.”
“Which one?”
He hesitated, old habits dying hard.
“I’ll know them,” she promised, misunderstanding his silence. Then, pointing at her chest, said, “Maths degree, remember? Nerd girl.”
She looked so expectant, which only made him clam up more. It was a spontaneous reaction, brought on by years spent with women and their need to ask questions, to talk, to pry, to get to the heart of every damn matter. The more they wanted, the less he had to give.
He saw the moment she realised it. Her eyes widened and her lips pursed into a small O. “You’re not going to tell me, are you? Is it confidential? No? Okay. But what will I say if anyone asks me about your work? That you keep a tidy desk?”
He laughed before he’d even felt it coming.
If nothing else, he liked her. Honesty and decency shone through the quirkiness. And even beyond the signs of attraction that had led him to email her in the first place aside, their kiss had been natural, raw, effortless. And wanted. By both sides. This could work.
“BamBam Games,” he said.
Her eyes widened, her mouth twisting as she gave a long, low drawn-out, “Reeeeally?”
All that lovely cocky certainly was swept away. “Problem?”
“Not necessarily. Bamford Smythe is a genius. He’s going to change the world.” Under her breath she added, “Or destroy it from the inside of a cave somewhere.”
Nate cricked his neck. “You know the guy?”
“Of him. Lissy, my business partner, did some work for him once. The logos and icons on his website are her work.”
Nate clicked over to BamBam’s website for a quick reminder. It was slick, cool, with an aura of hipster that BamBam…Bamford had never given off in person. Now he knew why.
Then he realised Saskia was still talking.
“…and M&M’S. The guy is spookily addicted to M&M’S. So good luck!”
“Right. Thanks.”
“Finish your thought and then we can get started,” said Saskia, pressing herself to her feet, ridding herself of her long cardigan and tossing it towards the couch.
When she rounded his desk and headed to the wall of windows in only a lumpy lace tank, the beige pants and bondage sandals, Nate found himself watching her walk. Relaxed, easy, a neat little sway to her hips.
Not a mote of self-awareness about the woman—as if it didn’t occur to her he might be paying such close attention. That from his angle the afternoon sun sluiced through the window making the buildings glow gold and rendering her lightweight pants all but see-through.
Her silhouette showed off lean legs, gently curving hips and a round, high backside. He curled his hands into his palms till the nails bit deep. Despite the test kiss, she wasn’t his to touch. It hadn’t been part of the deal.
Her hands went to that waist and she stretched out her shoulders, as if opening to the sun. His blood rushed every which way but loose.
“Shall we do this?” Nate said, his voice gruff.
Saskia turned and he waved a hand to the couch.
Saskia picked out a strawberry before unwinding and kicking off her shoes, taking off her hat, ruffling her hands through her kinky dark hair. Then she sat in one corner, leaving the length to him, one foot under her backside, the other curling its toes into the thick white rug.
She made it look so…comfortable. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had anyone barefoot in his office before. He was pretty sure he liked it.
“So?” she said.
“You called this meeting, Miss Bloom,” said Nate as he took the other corner. “You have the floor.”
“Miss Bloom, is it? Well, then, we are all business.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, her lips closing around the red fruit. Then, with a soft sigh, she picked up the two neat leatherbound folders with leather ties from the coffee table and handed one to him.
“Flash,” said Nate, amazed that his tongue worked when it felt as if it was tied in knots.
“Stationery addiction.” She waved a hurry up hand, practically bouncing in her seat as she waited for him to pull out whatever was inside. “I know it’s a little more than we agreed to but I’m a sucker for a new project. There’s nothing like it—blank paper, freshly sharpened pencils. Anything’s possible.”
“Before real life gets in the way?”
She shrugged, as if she was still convinced one day things really could work out as she hoped they might. An optimist was Saskia. With Pollyanna tendencies. Nate made a note to remember that.
He opened his folder to find his emailed questions, only she’d expanded them to include a slew of small details, rich details—the kind
