The Dare Collection: August 2018. Avril Tremayne

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style="font-size:15px;">      Abruptly, he stood and walked around to where I sat. “Are you done eating?” He glanced pointedly at my plate.

      “Yes.”

      “You ready to head out?” he asked, flicking a cold glance at one newbie, who cowered away from the arctic mountain glowering at him.

      I considered calling Caleb out on his rudeness, but it had been a long, draining day. I really wanted to get out of here. And it had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to get him away from Miranda, who was eyeing Caleb with barely disguised hunger.

      I swallowed a knot of irritation. “Don’t stay too long, Miranda. I need you back here by seven.”

      Her gaze swung to me, and I swore I caught a flash of something nasty in her eyes. A moment later it was gone. “Sure thing, boss. I’ll make sure you’re all set to go.”

      Caleb’s impatient hand gripped the back of my chair, and I rose.

      Maybe it was the don’t-mess-with-me vibes he gave off as we left the building, but nobody approached to talk to me. I continued with last minute prepping on my tablet right until we drove through the gates of my house. And then I couldn’t hold back the grain of irritation that had grown since dinner.

      I cleared my throat. “I need a favor,” I said briskly.

      He paused with a hand on the door. His eyebrow twitched but didn’t exactly lift. “Normally, a request like that is couched in a more...friendly tone.”

      I fixed my gaze somewhere around his chest to avoid New Caleb’s cool, disinterested expression. “Tomorrow is an important day for me. So I need you not to...” I paused, a little annoyed with myself for needing to utter the words.

      “It would help if you actually complete the sentence?”

      The mild mockery lacing the words made me forget not to look into his face. His eyes weren’t disinterested. They were neutral. Enough to make that odd little band around my chest tighten.

      To hell with this. “Stop flirting with my assistant,” I snapped.

      He sat back in his seat, his eyes narrowing. “Why?”

      “Excuse me?”

      “What do you care who I flirt with?” he drawled.

      “You’re supposed to be a professional. Do I really need to point this out to you?”

      He gave a careless shrug.

      “Fine. Your...attention hasn’t impacted her work. Yet. But—”

      “You’re worried she’s becoming preoccupied with getting into my pants and you have a problem with that?” The words were delivered with a little more of that zing I was used to.

      Hot little fires began licking through my veins, sparking electricity that engulfed my breasts, stung between my legs. “I only have a problem with how it pertains to my work. She needs to be on her A-game for tomorrow. So, yes, I’d be grateful if you’d dial down the low-voiced charm, and all that smiling.”

      The smile I’d just denigrated lit up his face. It was slow and deadly. It was also so drop-dead magnificent that I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything other than absorb it. Bask in it and God help me, grow intensely, claws-out possessive over Caleb smiling at another woman like that. And right in that moment of admitting that I was mindlessly attracted to him, I wanted to die.

      Especially when that smile turned stupidly smug.

      “Why, Lily, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were jealous.”

       CHAPTER NINE

      Caleb

      I WATCHED HER stalk to the front door, her body stiff with outrage.

      My smile dimmed as my gaze swept feverishly over her, greedily taking one of the few long glances I’d been reduced to stealing all week. A part of me remained pissed off that she’d put the brakes on what had seemed like a slam-dunk acceptance of the green light I gave her.

      Hell, three insanely hot make-out sessions in twenty-four hours was a record, even for me, although that first time in the restaurant had been a simple exercise in taking her down a peg or two, but had quickly escalated into something mildly earthshaking.

      Okay, nothing about what happened between us could be classified under mild. I would’ve fucked her in broad daylight in the front seat of my SUV if one of us hadn’t come to our senses.

      Still. The part I was having a hard time dealing with was how hard it’d been to stick to my own rules this week. I’d spent more than a few sleepless nights reliving Lily’s taste, enduring a raging—pun intended—storm in my cock I was yet to get under full control.

      As I watched her stab the code to turn off the alarm, though, I couldn’t help my gratification at this latest revelation.

      “I’m not jealous,” she denied hotly as if she’d read my thoughts.

      I shut the front door and slid home the dead bolt. “Really? You’re sure acting like it.”

      Her grip tightened on the satchel she never left home without. “Of course you would think that.”

      I strolled over to her. “I did wonder why you felt the need to instruct Miranda to come in on time tomorrow when she’s never been late.”

      “And how would you know that?” she challenged huffily.

      I cracked a little smile, watched her eyes drop to my mouth before she averted her gaze. The slow, torturous burn in my loins intensified. The wall I’d deliberately erected between us to help honor her wishes crumbled a little. I was tempted to give it a healthy kick, but deep down I knew she was right to want to keep things professional between us.

      Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted to test my control just yet. Lily was as sensational as I imagined she would be. And that was with barely a taste.

      “I know how to get the information I need,” I answered her question.

      Her eyes narrowed. “Was that what you were doing tonight? Gathering information?”

      I shrugged. “Sometimes it’s best to use honey, not vinegar.”

      She nodded and turned toward the stairs.

      “Are you going to bed?”

      Her eyes met mine for a second before she looked away, the pulse at her throat picking up speed. She let go of the satchel to drag her fingers through her hair. At some point this week, she’d repainted her short nails a dark purple shade that looked almost black. Something about the way it contrasted against her shock-white blond hair raised my temperature.

      “No. I was thinking of going for a swim. I need the exercise to...de-stress a little.”

      Fuck, I had a dozen

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