Flirting With Forever Gwyn Cready (best book series to read txt) 📖

She could hear the tick tick tick, and even though she wasn’t looking, she could feel his gaze. The tenor of the room changed, as did the cadence of his breathing.

“I think,” she said, “you can convince them.”

He had the good sense to flush. Rather a charming thing, if you thought about it. The little spots of color on his cheeks were the first step in the mush process.

He adjusted his position and with a crooked smile said,

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“No, actual y. I’m trying to meet payrol .”

“It’s a damned effective strategy.”

“I would think so. C’mon. I swear I’l pay it back at the end of the quarter—with ten percent interest.”

“It seems to me,” he said, leaning forward in earnest,

“that for sixty-three thousand dol ars I could expect a little more.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Sure. Whatever. Twelve percent?”

“Not interest. Skin.”

He said it in the same tone that he might say, “Hand me the stapler,” or “Let’s go over the Ryneman numbers.” Joss had to re-review it in her head to ensure she’d heard it right.

“I … I …”

“I’d be risking my reputation. Why shouldn’t you risk yours?” he said.

“How much?” she asked, shocked. This peek of paradise was supposed to be enough. Jeez, what was happening to business ethics?

He gestured toward everything north of her belt. “Al of it.”

Risk and reward. The seesaw of business. She could barely think over the pounding in her ears. The diamond on her finger glinted and she nearly said no, but then she thought of her mother. Was her mother’s dream for this company going to die with Joss? Was Ann’s son going to go without dialysis? No effing way. Time to put her business acumen to work.

She lifted her shaking hand and loosened the buttons.

“And open, please,” he said.

“Your admin is sitting outside.”

He pressed a button on his phone. “Pat?”

“Yes, Mr. Reynolds?”

“Close the door, wil you? I don’t want to be disturbed.”

Joss sat frozen while Pat stepped into the rear of the office, no doubt thinking the meeting would continue to be about negotiations and outcomes, which, come to think of it, wasn’t far from the truth. Pat closed the door. Rogan leaned back in his chair.

Joss had at least imagined this possibility. It would have been foolish to entertain this strategy without having done so. But she’d been so certain Rogan would stop at a certain, albeit, not purely innocent, level of flirtation.

She spread the silk.

His irises widened. It was a biological effect he couldn’t hide no matter how skil ed he was—or perhaps she should say one of the effects. The trick was going to be teasing that effect as far as it would go under her control without starting a biological apocalypse. She was reminded of the men who in 1945 were about to set off the first experimental atomic explosion and were “pretty certain” it wouldn’t destroy the Earth’s atmosphere. She hoped pretty certain was enough. She also hoped no one in the building across the street had binoculars.

Her cel vibrated. The sound of a text. She cut her gaze to the display. It was from Di. “R u doing it?” Joss clapped her hand over the screen.

Rogan pointed to the clasp between her breasts from which a tiny pearl dangled. “Does that little thing there open it?”

“It does.” God, she needed to get on top of this situation.

“Would you mind … ?”

“I wouldn’t,” she said, leaning slightly forward, “but it seems to me that’s something you might rather do yourself.”

He made a dry, choking noise. Ha! Mush prevails!

“And al it takes is a quick cal to Charlie.” Charlie was the president of the Brand Industries board. “Just to let him know the plan.”

This was it. If he talked to Charlie, he’d be committed.

Rogan licked his lips.

“May I?” He gestured to the clasp with an earnest look in his eye. “Just a touch?”

Bless his mother; he’d been raised to be polite. She nodded.

He brought his hand to the metalwork, slipping his forefinger under the clasp and letting his thumb brush the swaying pearl. He tugged slightly, measuring the tension.

“Oh Lord,” he whispered.

The electricity from his touch surprised her, as did the smel of sandalwood on his skin.

“Charlie,” she reminded careful y.

“Right.” He picked up his