SEVEN #2
Doing a double take, Jenna was clearly taken aback. That wasn’t like Spurn either?
“But, sir, that weekend—”
“Is her brother’s birthday.”
Jenna worked on the tablet, Spurn typed away, and she…
Huh…?
“Uh, Jenna, would…” she started, “would you mind giving me a minute alone with Mr. Spurn?”
“Oh, sure,” she said, gathering her tablet and water glass. “Would you like me to get rid of that?”
Nodding, Gia handed over the paper bag filled with the remnants of their lunch.
After the door closed behind Jenna, Spurn spoke, “Call a lot of your boyfriends Mister?”
“Only in bed,” she said. His startled eyes flashed to hers. She smiled. “I’m kidding. I think she’s afraid of you.”
“Jenna is not afraid of me,” he said. “You excused her.”
“To talk about Bram. Do you think it’s a good idea for you to come to his birthday party?”
“And dinner with your parents,” he said, returning to the laptop. “Yes, I do.”
For him, it was black and white. Her father thought the same way. What was with that?
“Why did you make this deal?” she asked. “Why do you want everyone to think we’re together?”
His fingers stopped, but he didn’t look up. A few seconds passed before he slowly closed the laptop lid.
“What did your father say to you when you went inside last night?”
“He’s suspicious of you.”
“He should be.”
At least Spurn, Brogan, was being honest, even if forthcoming was still a ways off.
“He told me to never see you again,” she said and his eyes narrowed a fraction. “Don’t worry our deal is still intact. I told him that I was old enough to make my own decisions.”
“Good,” he said. “It’s good I know that. I have a meeting with your father this afternoon.”
She rolled closer to the desk. “You do?”
“Unless you’re the Sear on my schedule today.”
The idea of her father and Brogan in the same room had never even entered her mind until she got into this. Now the notion made her hands shake.
“Me? No, this is impromptu. Jenna texted me and—”
“I know, I’ve told her to only refer to you on the schedule as ‘Irish’ from now on.”
His attention on her was absolute. Though he showed her no smile, she relaxed enough to free hers.
“You called me that last night.”
“It’s what you tasted like when I kissed you,” he said. “The coffee.”
“The coffee,” she murmured.
The cream had been sweet, the coffee bitter, and the liquor delicious. The freedom to have something her parents forbade was the real excitement. Brogan hadn’t sneered, he’d watched her, his eyes intent, curious, almost heated. Kind of like they were right then.
Could he read her thoughts? His gaze grew more intense. From across the room, she could feel the warmth of his breath as it had been on her lips last night.
“Anything else you want that’s always been forbidden?”
Her lips parted, his loaded question shallowed her breath.
“Why is my father suspicious of you?”
Pushing away from the table, he turned his chair toward her. “Quid pro quo.”
“You’ll answer me if I do something for you,” she said. His slow blink was assent. “What do you want?”
He pointed at the floor between his feet. “Kneel down here.”
Licking her lips, she subdued a smile as her pulse kicked up.
“You know you only get one request.” Rolling the chair away from the desk, she stood to strut toward him, measuring each careful step, filled with peculiar, almost foreign, confidence.
“If you have an intimate request, you should be more explicit.”
“When I have an intimate request, I will be,” he said and pointed to the floor again. “Kneel.”
Slipping her shoes from her feet, she stepped out of them as she walked up close. Pausing to gather her skirt, she lowered slowly until she was on her knees in front of him.
“Now what, Mister?”
For a moment, he admired her. It wasn’t until he curled his fingers around her jaw, tilting her head back that she smiled.
“Don’t smile.”
“You don’t like my smile?” she asked.
“I don’t like personal debts.”
What did that mean? “Debts?”
“Quid pro quo.”
Bowing, he guided their mouths together and kissed her just as he had last night. After he eased away, she stayed in mid-air, stealing his hand to press it against her cheek.
“Now you owe me two,” she said.
“Call them in quick.”
“I want you to answer my question,” she said, rising higher to align their mouths. “Before that, I want you to kiss me better than that.”
“Better than that?” he said with a hint of teasing.
“Better than that.”
Their mouths met again. Instead of a simple press, each sought more from the other until their lips parted and their tongues met. This was what the staring and the talking and the tension were about. This moment explained so much, it brought clarity.
She’d never known that passion could lock pieces together. While their mouths devoured and their heads angled to taste more, she began to comprehend what her subconscious had been trying to tell her… she wanted this man.
“Gianna!”
Her father’s voice ripped a bolt of terror through her that shattered the moment.
There he was in the doorway with Bram.
“Daddy,” she said and leaped to her feet.
“Is this how you spend your days? You say you’re going to that charity place and instead come here to debase yourself with him!”
Her dad and Bram came into the room.
A sheepish Jenna appeared behind them. “I’m sorry, sir. They wouldn’t wait.”
“Close the door,” Brogan said and the assistant backed out. “You are in my house now, Sear. Conduct yourself appropriately or you’ll be escorted out.”
Ever cool, Brogan didn’t let her father’s bluster faze him. God, she wished she could be more like that. Brogan had an advantage, he’d been expecting this. When he’d said, “a meeting with her father,” he could’ve hinted he meant imminently.
Her father couldn’t have walked in on anything worse; she had no one to blame for what he’d seen except herself. Even if they hadn’t been kissing, she’d have been on her knees before him. Had that been Brogan’s intention? Boy, had he got more than he bargained for.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. This wasn’t Brogan’s fault, it was mine. I kissed him.”
“Come with me,” Brogan said, taking her hand to guide her to the hall with the secret elevator. “Conway, Bram, sit down.”
Brogan shut them in the isolated space.
“I’m sorry for—”
“Don’t explain or apologize.”
Taken aback by his anger, she was at a loss. “He’s my father.”
“And as far as he’s concerned, we’re together. Never apologize for our relationship again,” he said and tugged her to the elevator. “Do you have your pass?”
“My what?”
He produced a piece of black metal from his pocket and eased her into the elevator. “Security gave you a pass when you arrived.”
“It’s in my purse, on your desk. Brogan, I’m not wearing shoes.”
Holding the door open, he swung inside to press the green button. “Don’t go anywhere in this building without your pass. Jenna will meet you in the lobby with your things.”
“You can’t be serious. Brogan, my father—”
“Is my problem,” he said and caught the door when it tried to close. “We’ll have dinner tomorrow night.”
That worked out because that night she had a date with Shanna. With his feet planted on the outside of the elevator, he leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth.
Gia caught his lapel. “Will you call me tonight?”
For a second, he lingered. “Do you want me to call you?”
She nodded. “You owe me an answer to my question,” she said, sidling closer to slip her hand up and down beneath his lapel. “And you hate debts.”
“Then I’ll call you.”
“Jenna has my number.”
Kissing him before he could withdraw, she enjoyed the power of letting him go to retreat to the back of the elevator.
Their eyes stayed locked while the doors slid shut. A smile grew on her face, so wide that her cheeks ached. Brogan conned her into this deal, or did he? After a kiss like that… Had she been more willing to date him than she’d confess?