The Dare Collection August 2019. Christy McKellen

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      I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Great. Then our business is concluded.’ This couldn’t go better from my point of view. Not only do I have a revised contract, but I’ve also cited myself as overseer to the work. She won’t be able to change a light bulb without my prior approval.

      ‘Perhaps.’ Her eyes settle on mine, the rise and fall of her chest telling me I’m in no way imagining her sexual interest. I’m certain we want the same thing. And by the way this satisfactory negotiation has panned out, we could have what we want.

      I incline my head, gracious in victory.

      ‘Will I be required to act as if I’m... Sa...your ex again?’

      Damn. How the hell am I supposed to answer that? I have no idea how my father will react from one day to the next. The doctors tell me a routine and a calm environment is the best medicine, but until I have that second opinion the last thing I want to do is upset Graham further, which is why I went along with the case of mistaken identity.

      ‘Would that be so terrible?’ I say. ‘You handled it perfectly last night—something I’m very grateful for, by the way.’

      I sense her hesitation, although she’s doing a valiant job of trying to conceal it.

      I add a layer of inducement. ‘Now we’ve agreed on the specifics of the contract, if there’s anything else I can do for you in return, just let me know.’ Everyone wants something. What does Blair Cameron want if it isn’t to sabotage my hotel?

      She nods, looks away and then turns back to face me with new resolve and a flash of excitement shining in her eyes. ‘Actually, I do.’

      Well, this should be interesting. I smile, heat building in my chest with excitement for the demands she’s about to make.

      ‘Now I’m intrigued. Go on.’ My stare zeroes in on her full mouth, a mouth I’d like to feel on mine. The fire is there between us, a smoulder of embers waiting to be fanned to a blaze.

      ‘I’m willing to...play along should the need arise. I wouldn’t want to embarrass Graham or make things worse for him.’ Her eyes harden. ‘I prefer not to deceive him, believe me, but you’ve already put me in a difficult position.’

      ‘So what do you want?’

      She pushes her hair back from her face. ‘If my work on the Faulkner meets your approval, you’ll write me a client testimonial I can use however I see fit.’

      ‘That’s easy enough.’ I’m failing to see where the rub is for me—she’s agreed to all my terms, above and beyond. ‘A glowing recommendation is something I’d do for any worthy contractor.’ I’m sensing there’s more. The second item, perhaps. ‘What else do you want?’ Everyone has a price, but can I afford hers? I hold myself still, certain her next demand will cost me one way or the other.

      She hesitates, her lip caught under her top teeth, ‘I—it’s a little...unprofessional. Perhaps we should discuss it after hours.’

      ‘Now works just fine for me.’ I wait, curiosity a persistent drum sounding in my head. ‘Tell me, Blair.’

      My hushed command does the trick in loosening her tongue.

      ‘Do you...find me attractive?’ she asks with a tilt of her chin.

      I conceal my astonished reaction. ‘Attractive?’ My blood roars. Sexy as fuck, more like. Fascinating, whip-smart and ballsy. What is there to doubt?

      She nods. ‘I could be wrong...about our...chemistry.’ Her eyes dip to the tabletop for a fraction but then they’re back, bolder than before.

      I lean forward, place my arms on the table, my hands clasped together to stop myself reaching out and touching the strand of hair that has fallen over her cheek.

      ‘You’re not wrong. I’ve always thought you’re a beautiful woman.’ The heat in my chest slides below the belt. This is so inconvenient, but now she’s verbalised what I hoped to hear, I’m done for.

      The breath she’s holding shudders out of her, the flutter of the pulse in her neck, the increased heat from her body, the subtle shift of her crossed legs all indicating she’s as turned on as me.

      ‘Ask your favour.’ My patience snaps. The sparks in her eyes deliver fresh blood to my groin. I’m either going to love what comes next out of those delicious lips, or my instincts are decidedly off...

      ‘Well... I used to have something of a teenage crush on you.’ She laughs then, despite the heightened colour in her cheeks. It’s a delightful sound—a little throaty, almost dirty and so unexpected I laugh too. I didn’t know about the crush. Yes, I recall for a while in my late twenties she blushed every time we crossed paths—which wasn’t that often—but I figured it was an awkward phase. A teenager thing.

      Then I quirk one eyebrow, waiting while this new piece of information floods my body with testosterone. ‘Tell me what you want from me.’ If it’s what I’m thinking the answer is hell, yes. The fact that she knows what she wants and is negotiating it into our terms is the biggest turn-on so far. She’s accruing quite a list of attributes.

      But surely it can’t be the same thing I want. The thing I’ve wanted since she looked up at me in the Faulkner Group waiting area with a flash of recognition and something else. Something bold and demanding, as ruthless as any business stipulation. Now I want to hear those other demands, hear confirmation from her sensual mouth.

      She picks at a speck on her dress, something so minute it’s invisible. ‘I’m correct in thinking you’re single, right?’

      I nod, watching her with renewed fanaticism. ‘I’ve done the marriage thing—now I only do casual.’ I incline my head, waiting while my heart hammers—I’ve never been propositioned like this before and to say I like it would be an understatement.

      I lean a fraction closer and toss her a lifeline. ‘We might be on the same page here.’

      She nods, as if she’s worked that out long before me. ‘I’d like to propose a second contract. Just a verbal one will do.’ Her eyes shine as she taps the paperwork on the table. ‘Separate to the business one so no lines are blurred.’

      ‘Why?’ My interest peaks with the strengthening urge to taste her delicious-looking mouth.

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘Why do we need a second contract?’ I know enough about her by now to know she won’t fluster and dither at my direct question, but I need to know we’re negotiating the same thing.

      Her response blows me away.

      ‘Because I have fantasies about you I’d like to play out.’ Her voice is breathy now, and I not only know how driven and ambitious she is, but also how she sounds when she’s turned on.

      Before I can speak she continues the aural torture.

      ‘If we’re working closely together, something is going to happen sooner or later, and I prefer to keep sex separate from our working relationship. I don’t want anything to interfere with the Faulkner renovations. Call it a no-strings arrangement if you like.’

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