it, clutching his head to hers. Then, finally, she parted her lips, deepening the kiss.
And he knew her image was just that: Allison McCann was no ice queen. She was all fire and passion.
He tasted so damn good, just like she’d thought he would, like coffee and sugar. His tongue slid between her lips, stroking over hers. She would probably taste like the mint she’d swallowed when he’d jerked her into his arms. While one of his arms was wound around her waist, the other was around her back, as his hand cupped the back of her head, holding it against his as he kissed her.
And her fingers were in his hair, tangled in the thick strands of it. She wanted to slide her fingers down his face, over his muscular chest to the buckle of his belt.
She wanted to undress him. Wanted him to undress her...
She wanted more than a kiss. She wanted him to release the tension he’d built inside her. She wanted his tongue other places than her mouth.
She couldn’t believe that she would want that, that she would want him. And it seemed mutual. She felt his erection straining against the fly of his jeans as he pressed his long, muscular body against hers—as he kissed her.
Trevor Sinclair was kissing her. And she was kissing him back.
That wasn’t just unprofessional—it was career and emotional suicide. Just the kiss.
If they did any more, if they crossed the line any further...
She stepped back, jerking herself out of his arms.
“No,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady despite how hard she was shaking with desire.
Breathing hard, he stared at her blankly, his brow furrowed beneath the fall of the hair she’d tousled with her fingers. “What?”
“If your proposition is for sex, my answer is no,” she clarified. And she fought to still her trembling. She couldn’t afford to let him see how badly he’d affected her, how badly she wanted him, because then he might call her bluff. He might pull her back into his arms and prove that she wanted him just as badly as he’d seemed to want her.
But she must have fooled him because he nodded. “That’s right. I forgot that you said you hate lawyers.”
She flinched with regret that she’d let that slip out once in a meeting with him and Stone Michaelsen. That had been nearly as unprofessional as letting Trevor kiss her. And kissing him back.
That had just been stupid, and Allison was rarely stupid. But she’d wondered for a long time what it would feel like to have that wide mouth of his against hers. It had been even better than she’d thought. What would it be like if they’d gone further?
She nearly shivered as sensations raced through her. And now she regretted pulling away as soon as she had. Maybe she should have let the kiss go on...to more.
“So I guess it’s a good thing I might not be a lawyer much longer,” he said.
She sucked in a breath. She hated lawyers but she knew they were necessary, especially good ones like Trevor Sinclair. “Why not? Did you get turned in to the bar association like your partner?”
His brow furrowed.
Maybe he hadn’t known she’d been aware of that. But she had sources everywhere and she couldn’t afford any surprises in her work.
He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything to get reported to the bar,” he said. “And neither did Ronan. That complaint was bogus.”
She wasn’t so certain about that. But she nodded as if she agreed with him. “Then I don’t understand.”
“Somebody forged those documents they claimed were from Ronan’s case files—”
“No,” she interrupted him. She didn’t want to talk about his partners. “If you’re not losing your license, why won’t you be a lawyer much longer?”
He chuckled. “I’m not losing my license,” he assured her. “I’ve decided to give up law in order to run for public office.”
Now it made sense the comments she’d overheard his partners making to him as they’d exited the office, all some version of wishing him luck. For a second she’d thought those comments might have been in regard to her. But until he’d kissed her, she hadn’t been able to imagine why he might have needed luck with her.
Unless he’d planned to seduce her.
He hadn’t. He had probably only kissed her because she’d stung his pride. She shouldn’t have goaded him. But there was something about Trevor Sinclair, something that caused her usual guard to slip.
She fought now to put her guard back up as he studied her face. She wasn’t certain if he was looking for her reaction to his kiss or to his news. She hid them both under a mask of mild curiosity as she asked, “What does your running for public office have to do with me?”
“I want you to help me,” he said. “I want you to run my campaign.”
That proposition was nearly as ridiculous as his wanting to have sex with her. Hell, she would have preferred that proposition to this one. She laughed again.
“I’m serious,” he told her.
And as was the case with him, her professionalism slipped again and she admitted, “There’s one thing I hate more than lawyers,” she said. “Politicians.”
“I don’t need you to love me,” he said. “I just need you to help me win.”
She laughed again. She wasn’t certain what was funnier. The thought of her falling in love with him or the thought of her helping him win an election. But her laughter sounded a bit hollow as it echoed inside his big office. And she forced herself to stop before it passed from hollow to hysterical.
She shook her head. “I’m a publicist,” she reminded him. “I’m not a campaign manager.”
“I know what you are, Allison,” he said. And for a second something cold and determined passed through his deep green eyes.
She shivered.
Then he blinked and replaced the look with a twinkle of amusement. “And you’re all I need right now,” he said. “You’re who I want.”
She wanted him, too, but not like this, not as a client. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sinclair. I can’t help you.”
“You don’t think I could actually win an election?” he asked.
She sighed. “No, I think you could.” And that was the problem.
But he obviously couldn’t see it. His brow furrowed again as he said, “Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t play politics,” she said. Not anymore.
“You’re a publicist,” he said, throwing her words back at her. “That’s all you do is play politics.”
No.
