lost. Instead she hefted a weighty sigh and motioned for him to join her inside the slowly growing warmth of her car.
He opened the door and slid that long, gorgeous body into the passenger seat beside her. The luscious scent of him did crazy things to her senses…like obliterate every last one of them.
“Was it something I said?”
“Yeah,” she answered and looked over at him. Her stomach took a tumble at the crooked smile curving that very kissable mouth. There should be a law in the books somewhere declaring it illegal for a man to be so incredibly sexy when he was seriously off-limits. “Samuel, Cyrus and Kane.”
“Look, I didn’t know.” Regret tinged his deep, velvety voice. “I am sorry.”
So was she. More than he realized. And a hell of a lot more than she’d expected, for that matter. “It’s just one of those weird coincidences,” she said with a shrug. “No need to apologize.”
Most of the time, she was a realist. And the reality of the situation was that she was wildly attracted to Sebastian Stanhope, even though he practically came with a “do not touch” brand burned into what she’d been fantasizing were hard, lean abs.
She muttered another curse.
“Would it help if I said I wish things had turned out differently?” he asked.
The sincerity in his eyes irritated her. God, why couldn’t he have been a jerk? Then she wouldn’t give a rat’s ass that her sexual fantasies had come to a screeching halt. Of course, that was her problem, wasn’t it? Because she couldn’t stop imagining him hot and hard and naked.
“Not really,” she countered dryly.
A full smile curved his lips now. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t tease me, Stanhope. I’m a frustrated woman. That makes me dangerous and highly irrational.”
He had the audacity to chuckle. “I like you, Joey.”
Yeah, well, the feeling was definitely mutual. “Guess that’ll make for a good working relationship, now, won’t it?”
She slumped down in her seat. What was she saying? Working with him would be nothing short of torture. Long hours. Late nights. That incredible scent of his lingering in her office long after he’d gone, driving her to distraction. Those intoxicating eyes.
Oh, God. She was toast. A walking hormonal disaster. A ticking sexual time bomb. It wouldn’t take much for him to light her fuse, either. And he was just arrogant enough to realize it, too.
She looked over at him. “Too bad Rosalie’s is closed. I could use a drink.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
At least he agreed with her. That was something, right? Not that they could do anything about it. Dammit.
He tugged his key ring from his pocket and aimed the big black key at the Jeep Commander. He pressed the button and electronically started the vehicle.
Or could they?
Pulling herself up, she smiled at him. “You know, Sebastian, you really aren’t my boss—” she glanced at the digital display on the Beemer’s stereo system “—for another fifty-five hours.”
He made a sound that could’ve been a laugh. Or maybe a short bark of surprise. She couldn’t be sure. The smile on his handsome face had faded. Too bad. Feminine instinct told her they could’ve made good use of those hours.
“You realize we’re a sexual harassment claim waiting to happen.”
“Not for another fifty-five hours,” she argued.
“But what about intent?”
A weak legal argument if she ever heard one. “Are you questioning my intentions, counselor?” she asked, her tone going all husky.
In the soft glow of the dashboard lights, his eyes darkened. “Should I?”
She settled her hand on his arm. “It would be in your best interest. Yes.”
The air around them sizzled, crackling with energy. His gaze dipped to her mouth, then he shifted in the seat next to her. That he wasn’t immune to her spoke volumes, at least on her radar.
Life was filled with choices. Good ones, and not-so-good ones. Then there were the plain stupid ones. She wasn’t exactly certain where she’d classify coming on to Sebastian after his disappointing revelation. Come Monday morning, plain stupid would most assuredly apply.
But it wasn’t Monday morning. Yet.
“You’re a difficult woman to resist,” he said.
She didn’t detect so much as an ounce of regret in his admission. So did that mean he was buying her paper-thin argument? Oh, but she hoped so.
She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Then don’t.”
He blew out a stream of breath. “You realize we’re on the verge of complicating our professional relationship.”
“Probably,” she admitted. “But we won’t have a professional relationship for—”
He smiled again. “Yes, I know. For another fifty-five hours.”
“Exactly.”
He pulled his arm from her grasp, but grabbed hold of her hand and laced their fingers together. Her heart rate took off like a rocket when he brought their joined hands to his mouth. His lips brushed lightly over her knuckles and she forgot to breathe.
“Your argument is weak.” Turning her wrist, he lightly pressed his lips against her rapidly beating pulse. Heat shot through her and settled low in her tummy.
The first genuine tug of desire pulled at her. “So is my willpower,” she said, her voice a strained, breathless whisper.
He shifted in his seat and reached for her, sliding his fingers behind her neck and gently pulling her toward him. “I think I left mine in Miami.”
Thank God.
His lips brushed hers in a feathery kiss, but it was nowhere near enough. She leaned into him, as far as the bucket seat would allow, and opened her mouth beneath his. His answering groan as he slipped his tongue into her mouth was all the encouragement she needed.
Heat pooled in her belly, filling her with languid warmth. Was it so wrong to have what promised to be a very satisfying one-night stand? They were mature adults. Consenting adults. Why the hell not?
Okay, sure. So maybe he did have a point. They could very well end up complicating their professional relationship, but professional was the only relationship they would ever have as far as she was concerned.
He kissed her slow and deep, snapping that final thread of common sense she’d managed to hang on to thus far. A one-night stand was hardly happily-ever-after. She wasn’t even looking at a short-term fling beyond tonight.
