Boardroom Sins. J. Critch Margot

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СКАЧАТЬ his palms on the bar on each side of her, trapping her between it and his chest. She didn’t turn around, and she felt him lean closer, bringing his lips to her ear. “I knew I’d see you again soon, Becca.”

      “And I knew that I’d have to remind you again that I go by Rebecca now.” She sighed and looked over her shoulder at him. He was as gorgeous as always. In an attempt to steady her shaking hands, she cupped her glass and took a deep swallow of her drink. The gin was definitely top-shelf, and it hit the bottom of her empty stomach. Maybe she should have skipped the drink—no, going in sober wasn’t an option—or maybe she should have stopped to eat dinner before going to the club. And maybe, she thought as she looked up at Brett, either way she was making a huge mistake.

      She needed to keep a clear head, especially when the memories of the party had clouded every rational thought she’d had since that night. His proximity only made it worse. Her throat dried and she took a deep gulp of her gin and tonic and turned back to look at him once more.

      He was wearing gray slacks and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at his throat with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the tanned skin of his strong, corded forearms. His thick dark blond hair was tousled, and a five-o’clock shadow dotted his firm jawline. It looked like he’d left work and come to the club. But it didn’t matter what he wore, he looked just as good as he had wearing his more formal blue suit a couple of nights ago at Mayor Thompson’s house.

      She steeled herself, attempting to hold back her emotions, her desire, reminding herself of the job at hand. But tell that to the breath she held in her lungs and the stirring in her core. She swiveled on her stool, rotating around to face him. He was standing over her, so closely that her knees brushed high on his thighs. While the shock of the contact racked throughout her, he didn’t even appear to flinch. But that was Brett—always so cool and in complete control.

      “Can I get you a club soda, Brett?” The bartender had reappeared.

      “No, I’m good. Thanks, Tanya,” he said without looking away from Rebecca.

      “You put my name on the list.” Rebecca looked up at him. His face was only a few inches from hers. It wasn’t a question. He’d obviously done it.

      His smile was cocky, his dimples deep. “I did,” he said with a nod. “I knew you’d come here eventually. That you couldn’t stay away. Especially after Saturday night, I knew you’d be back for more.”

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