Bidding on Her Boss Page 8

  “Liam and I have found ways over the years to nudge him until he cracks.” Dylan’s expression changed—there was a touch of devilish mischief in the way his mouth quirked. “Some less fair than others.”

  “Like what?” she asked, intrigued.

  “Oh, we just know what buttons to push.” He grinned. “But we try to use our powers for good instead of evil. Most of the time we succeed.”

  Faith laughed. “Your powers are truly scary. I think I should be more careful around you.”

  There was silence for several heartbeats, and she felt the mood in the car—no, between them—change. Deepen.

  “Pushing buttons isn’t the reason you should be careful around me, Faith,” he said, his voice like gravel.

  Her skin heated. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she asked, “Why is it, then?”

  “Because I start to lose perspective around you.” He didn’t look at her; his gaze remained focused on the road ahead, but she felt as if he was whispering in her ear. “Sometimes I think you could crook your finger at me and I’d forget the company rules.”

  The breath caught in her throat. She was on the edge of a precipice, desperately wanting to fall, to let go, but she knew she couldn’t. She swallowed hard and tried to make light of his comment. “Don’t worry, I’ve never been able to master whistling, skipping or crooking a finger.”

  He laughed, but it sounded tight and unnatural. “Then we won’t have a problem.”

  They talked about less loaded topics for the rest of the trip back to LA until they finally pulled up at the studio. They carried the boxes of arrangements and single stems to the front door, where the photographer was waiting for them.

  “Come on in,” she said. “The others are already here.”

  Dylan leaned over to whisper to Faith, “A couple of the publicity team members from Adam’s office are meeting us here.”

  Once they were inside, the shoot seemed to move forward like clockwork. Dylan introduced her to the women from Hawke’s Blooms’ publicity team. Then she found a chair a few feet behind the camera and tried to stay out of the way.

  Dylan, however, seemed to be the center of everything. His people management skills were on display, and in a charming, relaxed way, he was in total control of the photo shoot. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He exuded confidence, charisma and power. He raised an arm and everyone turned to see what he was pointing at. He called for assistance with something and several people rushed to help. He looked at her with his simmering gaze, and she practically swooned.

  One of the publicity staff members, Amanda, took a seat next to her. “I can’t wait to see how the photos turn out. You did some great work with those arrangements.”

  Faith felt the blush moving its way up her neck and was grateful that Amanda was watching the work in front of them and wouldn’t notice. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to the photos as well.”

  “You’re so lucky, getting to work with Dylan. All the girls in our office have a bit of a crush on him.”

  Faith tensed. Did Amanda know? Was she fishing? But the other woman still hadn’t spared her a glance—if she’d been fishing, she would have been watching for a reaction.

  Faith drew in an unsteady breath. “You all work for Adam, don’t you?”

  “Yep, and don’t get me wrong. We love Adam, too. He’s a great boss. But Dylan? He could charm the pants off just about anyone if he put his mind to it.”

  Faith felt the blush deepen and creep up to her cheeks. She didn’t doubt that assessment in the least. Fortunately, Amanda didn’t seem to be waiting for a reply.

  “There’s something about the way that man moves,” Faith’s new friend said. “You can tell he’d be a great lover.”

  Faith’s heart skipped a beat. Just at that moment, Dylan glanced their way. He must have seen her looking a little flustered because he mouthed, “You okay?”

  Amanda’s words replayed in Faith’s head, and she imagined lying naked with Dylan Hawke. Touching him without reserve. Being touched. Her mouth dried. Dylan frowned, taking a step toward her, and she realized she hadn’t replied to him yet.

  Summoning all her willpower, she found a smile and nodded, and he went back to overseeing the shoot. Amanda was called away and Faith tried to focus on something, anything that wasn’t Dylan. Luckily, several people stopped to comment on her arrangements, so that gave her a ready-made distraction.

  By the time the photographer said she had enough shots and called a halt, Faith had successfully avoided looking at Dylan since he’d asked her if she was okay. So when he appeared in front of her, tall, dark and smiling, she lost her breath.

  “You ready to go?” he asked.

  She blinked. “Yeah. You sure you don’t mind dropping me home? I can catch a cab.”

  “Actually, I was thinking we should do something to celebrate the success of your designs first.”

  “Like what?” she practically stammered. Celebration and Dylan were two words that could be dangerous when paired together.

  He ran a hand over his jaw. “A fine champagne should do it.”

  She looked around. “Here?” Maybe it wouldn’t be so dangerous if the others were involved as well.

  “I need to drop these flowers off at my place so the delivery van can be picked up—the iris is still under wraps, so I can’t let them go anywhere else. But there’s a bar downstairs in my building. How about we drive over, I’ll race the arrangements upstairs and then we can have a bottle of their best champagne in the bar before I drop you home?”

  The plan sounded harmless—he hadn’t suggested she go up to his apartment with him, so they’d be surrounded by people the whole time. They couldn’t get carried away the way they had at the store on their first meeting. And truth was, she was too buzzed about the day’s events to go home just yet. This would be the perfect way to end the day: a small celebration with the person who understood how much making those arrangements and having them photographed for the publicity posters meant to her.

  “I’d love to,” she said.

  They set the flowers back in the boxes and carried them out to the delivery van, said their farewells and set off for Dylan’s building. Once they got there and parked, he went around to the back of the van and opened the doors.

  “How about you grab us a table while I take these up,” he said as he drew out the boxes. “I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

  “Sure,” she said. Part of her wanted to go with him and see his apartment, and the other part knew how dangerous that would be. Best to stay to public areas.

  It was still fairly early, and the bar mainly had the after-work crowd, not the evening revelers yet, so she didn’t have any trouble finding a booth. She was perusing the cocktail list on the wall behind her when she heard the sound of fabric moving over vinyl. Dylan slid onto the bench seat across from her. His sculpted cheekbones and sparkling green eyes seemed to make the whole world brighter.

  “Would you prefer a cocktail?” he asked.

  It wouldn’t be very smart to drink stronger alcohol when she was alone with this man. “No, I think you’re right. Champagne is perfect to celebrate.”

  “Good, because I just ordered a bottle.” His grin just about had her melting on the spot. And over the course of a couple of glasses of champagne each, the effect of Dylan Hawke on her system only intensified.

  His cell beeped and he fished it from his pocket. “That was quick,” he said as he thumbed some buttons. “The photographer has sent some preliminary shots over.”

  Her pulse jumped. “Can I see?”

  He turned the cell screen to her, but the images were small, so she couldn’t see much detail on how the individual iris looked at the center of the shot. “I can’t tell much,” she said.

  He turned the cell back to himself
and rotated it as he swiped the screen, flicking through the photos. “We could run up to my apartment and look at them on my computer screen.”

  He’d made the suggestion almost absent-mindedly, not lifting his gaze from the photos on his phone, and she wondered if he realized the enormity of the possible consequences of his offer.

  “Is that wise?” she asked and laced her hands together in her lap. “We agreed it was best to stick to public places.”

  He stilled. Then his gaze slowly lifted to meet hers. She was right—he hadn’t thought it through. He blew out a breath and shrugged. “It’ll be fine. It would only be a few minutes, and we’ll be focused on the flowers. Then I’ll bring you straight back down and drop you home.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. She really did want to see those photos, and since the flower was a secret, she wouldn’t ask him to forward them to her own email address, so this was the only chance she’d have to get a sneak peek before the posters were produced. Surely she could control her reaction to this man for a few minutes. In fact, when she thought of it that way, her caution seemed crazy—she wasn’t ruled by her lusts. Of course she could keep her hands to herself.

  Decision made, she nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

  She followed him out of the bar, then down a short corridor to a bank of elevators. One was waiting and he ushered her inside, then punched in a code before hitting the P button, which she assumed stood for penthouse.

  They were silent as they stood side by side in the small space, both watching the doors. Perhaps this had been a bad idea after all. Even these first few moments of being alone were filled with tension. A feeling of leashed anticipation.

  She opened her mouth to suggest they skip this and he drop her home when the doors whooshed open. He held out a hand to let her precede him into another hallway, and she hesitated.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Her mouth was suddenly dry, so she swallowed before speaking. “I guess I’m having second thoughts.”

  “You know,” he said, reaching out to hold the lift doors, “we’ve been alone quite a bit of time, if you think about it. In the car, the delivery van, the room where you’ve been working at Liam’s. And not once in those times did I lose control and leap on you.”

  But each of those times there had been the threat of someone entering the room or people in other cars looking through the windows. This time they’d be utterly alone. She moistened her lips.

  “If it helps,” he said, one corner of his mouth turning up, “I swear to keep my hands to myself.”

  She believed him. In the time she’d known him, he’d proved to be a man of his word. So she nodded, but as he unlocked his door, she admitted to herself that it wasn’t his control she was worried about...

  * * *

  Dylan pushed open his door and hoped like hell he could keep the promise he’d just made.

  “Do you want anything? A drink? Water?”

  She shook her head. He closed the door behind her, then led the way through his living room to a study off to the side. As he booted up the computer, he pulled a second chair over to the desk, but Faith was still in the doorway, standing at an angle, looking out into his living room. He moved to her side, curious to see what she was looking at. Following her line of vision, his gaze landed on the flower arrangements she’d made only hours before.

  “You did a really good job,” he said, his voice low. “They’re beautiful.”

  She didn’t move. “Mainly due to Liam’s work creating the Ruby Iris.”

  “No, mainly due to you. You forget what line of work I’m in.” With a gentle finger, he turned her chin to him so he could see her eyes. So she could see his and know he meant this. “I’ve seen beautiful flowers rendered awkward by a bad arrangement. You, however, have enhanced the Ruby Iris’s beauty.”

  Her eyes darkened. He realized she was close enough that he could lean in and kiss her again. Hell, how he wanted to. But he’d made her a promise to keep his hands to himself. So he dropped his hand and stepped back.

  He cleared his throat to get his voice to work again. “Speaking of your skill, let’s have a look at those photos.”

  He held a chair out for her, then sat in his and opened the email.

  There was a tiny gasp from beside him, and he turned to watch her reaction. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I’ve taken snapshots of my arrangements before, but I’ve never seen professional photos of them.” Her voice was soft, as if she wasn’t even conscious she was speaking.

  “The photographer has done a good job.” He passed the mouse to her so she could flick through the photos at her own pace.

  “The lighting is amazing,” she said as she scrolled. “And the angles...”

  He was sure the lighting and angles were out of this world, but he didn’t even glimpse them. His attention was firmly focused on Faith. Her eyes shone with unshed tears—were they of pride? Or joy? As one of those tears broke away and made a track down her cheek, he brushed it away with his thumb.

  She turned to him, eyes shocked, lips slightly parted.

  “Dylan—”

  He withdrew his hand and sat on it and his other hand for good measure. “I’m sorry. I promised not to touch you, and I won’t.”

  Her chest rose and fell more quickly than it had only a few minutes before. “You cross your heart?”

  “Yes. I give you my word.”

  She sucked her luscious bottom lip into her mouth, obviously considering something. Finally she released her lip and met his gaze again. “Then do you mind if I do something?”

  “Whatever you want,” he said and meant it.

  She lifted her hand and cupped the side of his face, running her thumb along his skin, the roughness of his jaw. “I’ve been dreaming about doing this, but I knew if I did, it would start something neither of us wanted. But since you’ve promised, then I just wanted to see...”

  His pulse had spiked at her touch, and now it raced even faster.

  “Faith,” he said, his voice ragged. “Have a little mercy.”

  “Just a moment more,” she whispered as her other hand joined in the exploration of his face.

  Dylan tensed the muscles in his arms, trying to retain control over them, but he kept sitting on his hands. He didn’t dare move. Then her index finger brushed over his lips, and he couldn’t stop his tongue darting out to meet it. She pressed a little harder into his bottom lip, and he caught the tip of her finger between his teeth. She moistened her own lips and watched his mouth as if there was nothing she wanted more than to kiss him. He knew exactly how that felt.

  “Faith,” he said as her fingers moved to his throat. “This is a dangerous game.”

  “I’ll stop in a moment.” But her fingers continued their path, moving from his throat up to thread through his hair. “I’ve been thinking, daydreaming about doing this, and I’ll never get another chance.”

  He groaned. She’d been daydreaming about him? About touching him?

  All the blood in his body headed south. He adjusted his position on the chair but didn’t release his hands.

  “It seems as if it’s been forever since our kiss,” she continued as her hands traced a path down his throat again, but this time not stopping, instead spreading over his chest. “And even though this can’t go anywhere, I’ve sometimes thought I’d die if I never touched you again. So I just want to make a memory to keep.”

  “You’ll be the death of me.” His head dropped back—he couldn’t handle her touch combined with the sight of her a moment longer. Though some devil inside him made him ask, “Tell me what else you daydreamed.”

  There was a pause and he thought she wasn’t going to answer, until in a soft voice she said, “You were touching me as well.”

  “I’ve t
hought about that.” A lot. And he was thinking about it now. There was something about this woman who made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. Being around her when she worked, laughing with her, having her hands on him.

  “Dylan?” she whispered, her voice close to his ear.

  Her breath was warm on his earlobe, and he could barely get enough brain cells working to answer. “Yes?”

  “What would it take to get you to break that promise?”

  A shudder raced through his body. “Faith,” he warned.

  “Would you touch me if I begged?” Her hands trailed down his arms to rest on his wrists—as far as she could go while he was still sitting on his hands.

  His arms trembled but he didn’t move, couldn’t speak. Then her hands cupped either side of his face and brought his gaze down to land on her. The air from her lungs fanned across his face.

  “Please,” she whispered against his lips, and then leaned in the last inch and kissed him.

  And his last thread of control snapped.

  Seven

  Faith knew she was being reckless, but the moment Dylan’s mouth closed the tiny space to reach hers, she didn’t care. She’d been craving this since the last time they’d kissed. Had been craving him.

  As she gently landed in his lap, his tongue pushed between her parted lips. She couldn’t have contained the sound of satisfaction that rose in her throat if she’d tried. And she definitely didn’t want to try. She could talk for an hour about the reasons they shouldn’t cross the line again, but this, this felt too right. She speared her hands through his hair, reveling in the slide of it over her sensitive fingers.

  His arms closed around her, holding her close, but it wasn’t close enough. She dug at his waistband until she worked his shirt free, then skimmed her hands underneath, over his abdomen and up as high as she could reach with the fabric restraining her hands. His light chest hair tickled, and she dug her nails in.

  “Faith,” he said as his head dropped back, but his arms didn’t relax their grip an inch.