KiltTease (16 page)

What she’d give to see his full smile, made panic claw at the back of her throat. She had to get out of this room filled with heirloom antiques…and him. “Thank you. The first candidate—”

He shook his head. “I didn’t say I wanted to look just yet, but that you were getting better at handling me.”

Luke’s tone insinuated something else entirely, something she wanted to experience. “Nonetheless, I appreciate the compliment.” Feeling flustered, she cracked open the first folder.

His hand brushed hers. The friction of his callused palm made her shiver. She held her breath, but he only closed the manila file.

“While we wait, you can tell me about your day,” he said.

At the rate their exchange was going, they might be at this all night. She picked up the glass of wine and took a sip. The Shiraz went down smoothly despite its cool temperature. “Your personal relationship with Mr. Beaudelaire—”

“Is that what Henri makes you call him? He’s gotten a big head since we first became friends. Shame.”

No. She needed the distance, and after the first year, he’d stopped trying to make her call him anything else. That’s how she got things done, with an efficient and impersonal purpose. She drew boundaries and never budged from them. Luke didn’t give a shit about her boundaries. She could almost respect him for striding right over them.

Now that she thought about it, that’s probably why Mr. Beaudelaire gave her the task every year. She added that mental note to things she planned to bitch about later. “I must keep what I do in the course of my day confidential. Would you like for me to tell the women in these files that you require every detail about their lives?”

“Touché.” He smiled and the action didn’t lighten up his eyes.

She often wondered what kinds of horrors he’d seen. Not even a genuine smile could cast away the darkness. But asking crossed a boundary. It’s why she fought to delegate this task to someone else.

Twenty-four hours and the New Year’s weekend would begin. Her usual duties of taking care of the staff, customers, and her boss doubled. Her life turned into orchestrating sexual fantasies, ironing out crinkles, dealing with dramas and details, so that all of the clients got exactly what they wanted.

Letting in thoughts about Luke, about his past, made her want…
him
. It’s why she refused the jacket, and would rather freeze to death than wear it. His scent would stain the buttery, soft leather and she needed no further encouragement to let him get under her skin.

“Tell me about your day anyway,” he said.

“Joss looks like your ideal woman.” She tapped the file.

He made a non-committal noise. “Is she your favorite?”

A very small part of her envied Joss. Seraphina glanced down at her nervous fingers and quelled the action. “I don’t have a personal opinion on the women. I’m only here to secure your choice.”

His eyes never wavered from her face. “But you do choose for me.”

She shifted under the intensity of the casual words. “Excuse me?”

“You put together the files in the order you prefer. Joss is the first. I always go with the first one you hand me.”

She blinked, surprised he noticed. “You have very specific instructions.”

“You don’t listen to any of them.”

Tension wrested her spine straight at the accusation. “Name one time.”

“Every year I’ve asked you to eat with me. Every year you turn me down.”

He was right. She pursed her lips and opened the file. “Let’s see. She’s unmarried. Five-foot-six. Petite. Dark brown hair and eyes. Everything is real.” She cleared her throat. “She’s seen you and she wants you to watch her. She’s written out everything she’ll do and it’s pretty inventive. No one else has ever done that. Her interest seems authentic.”

A smile never truly lightened his eyes, but lust did. His jaw flexed, his nostrils flared, and she enjoyed the heat in his gaze. “Read it to me,” he demanded.

That heat sluiced to her stomach and made her skin feel tight. “Read it?”

“My hands are busy.” He picked up his glass of wine. “The choice is up to you. Read it to me or eat with me.”

She scoffed. “Why?”

He took a tentative sip before looking at her again. “You tell me no.”

For a man like him that meant something. The heir of a wine dynasty, he wasn’t often brushed off. “Seems like a public service from where I’m sitting.” She blanched at her slip in professionalism, then tipped some wine into her mouth until she could control the urge to tell him exactly what she thought. “You tell me no all the time, so why would you want to share a meal with me?”

“For the next few days I’ll take all my meals alone. So for at least one, I’d like to share dinner with someone I like. You won’t have the time and right now you do. Eat with me, Seraphina.”

The offer sounded more than appealing. It tempted her. She squelched the sudden need to have a quiet moment with him. With anyone.

“This is work,” she argued. “No one denies you because you were born with a silver spoon. The rest you charm into doing what you want.”

“Or browbeat,” he added. “You’re technically working. What better excuse?” He raised his brow in challenge. “If you don’t, I’ll make you read the file to me before I give you my decision. You’ll read it, not in that no-nonsense voice you use with everyone, but as though you mean it.”

“You can’t—”

“Try me.” He paused. “And what would Mr. Beaudelaire say if he knows that all you had to do was eat with me?” He checked his watch. “You spent over eight hours of your precious time because you refused.”

“It’s only been one, almost two,” she corrected. He smiled and waited. And then she got it. She gasped. “You’d make me sit here another seven hours?”

He shrugged. The sinew of muscle in his arms moved with a graceful fluidity. “Last year it was five. I can’t get soft with you or you’ll start to lose respect for me.”

She glanced down at the file. Joss had gone into detail about the kinds of toys she’d use to get off, how she wished Luke would react, what that final meeting would entail…No way could Seraphina get through reading it aloud without showing how much she wanted to do the same naughty things with him.

Her boss let her run herd on him and the rest of the staff because she was that good. He had one rule she didn’t dare test. Employees were forbidden to sleep with the customers. The weekend drew in all kinds of men and women. Most in positions of power. Wealthy. No kink went unfulfilled. Vanilla sex, BDSM…everything. She understood why Mr. Beaudelaire had the rule. Mixing business with pleasure could cause unnecessary conflict.

Despite all the teasing, flirtation, and innuendos, Luke likely behaved, as much as he could, because he valued his friendship with Henri. Friendships were sacred to her. She’d lost the one she’d had all her life, and she wouldn’t be the cause of breaking theirs. Eating with Luke didn’t cross a line, but reading from the file would. Doing the latter would force her to give in on a boundary that she could never redraw.

Was it lust in his eyes now, or the thrill of the challenge? She felt wanton and desired. Dangerous to flirt with the temptation, but it was a shared meal. They’d eat. She’d avoid his charm in a professional way. No lines would get crossed. It was that choice, or read the file.

She hesitated for a second longer and then made the right choice. “Mr. Moreland, I’ll eat with you.”

Pleasure softened his smile. “Luke.”

She smiled back and this time it was genuine. “Now, Mr. Moreland, I didn’t agree to that. You should have waited to use it as your ace in the hole.”

He didn’t argue and that troubled her. It meant he was gearing up for another round. There was only so much time she could spend with him while acting unaffected. It took everything in her reserves, and her tank was running low already.

End of Excerpt