by Lauren Layne
Alexis shook her head. “This is your wedding. You need to handle all the parts, including Mr. Tyler. I’m the one to sign off on all of the billing statements, but that’s as far as my involvement goes. I’m confident that there won’t be a problem.”
Brooke’s head was spinning. “Okay, but—”
“May I speak out of turn?” Alexis said.
Brooke bit back a smile. “Do you even know how?”
Alexis merely looked at her, waiting for a response.
“Sure,” Brooke said, oddly eager to see what might come out of her boss’s mouth when the woman didn’t have her shields up.
“I think people make too big a deal about sex,” Alexis said.
Not what Brooke had been expecting.
“It’s just . . .” Alexis waved her hand impatiently. “I know what the magazines and romance novels tell us. That sex has to complicate everything, but that’s a myth. It only has to complicate things if you let it.”
“And you don’t . . . let it?” Brooke asked, trying to follow along.
There was a brief flash of something across Alexis’s face—something Brooke might have called vulnerability if she didn’t know the other woman better.
“Not anymore,” Alexis said. “And if you’re sitting there thinking that it’s weird to be talking about sex with your boss, well . . . that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Sex shouldn’t be taboo.”
Brooke reached for a Hershey’s Kiss. And then another. Hell, she needed a whole bag for this conversation. And a vodka.
“I’ll apologize for overstepping,” Alexis said as she calmly stood. “Consider it food for thought.”
“Wait, that’s it?” Brooke asked, aghast. “I’m not . . . I’m not entirely sure what you’re trying to tell me.”
Alexis smiled. A real one, that reached her eyes. “Yes you do.”
Brooke hesitated. “Are you telling me to sleep with Seth Tyler?”
Alexis shook her head. “I am not. I’m telling you to sleep with who you want to sleep with.”
“Even if it’s a client?”
“Admittedly, not my first choice, but then it’s not my choice, is it? And you’ve read the Belles creed. It doesn’t matter who’s paying the bill because the real client is . . .?”
“The bride,” Brooke finished. It was no less than she’d been telling herself and Seth for days.
“All I’m saying is that it doesn’t have to get complicated,” Alexis said. “I’ve always managed to keep sex and the rest of my life separate, and I find I rather like it that way. In fact, sometimes—how did you put it?—crossing that line can actually ease the tension. Not add to it.”
Brooke stuffed another candy in her mouth. “Respectfully, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
Alexis shrugged. “Respectfully . . . think about it.”
Chapter Eighteen
SETH KNEW THAT PEOPLE thought living in a hotel was lonely, but the truth was, it usually wasn’t.
He liked the location. He liked the room service. Liked coming home to a freshly made bed and clean sink and never having to change a lightbulb.
But on Thursday evening as he wheeled his overnight bag into his set of suites after a long-ass, delayed flight back from Hong Kong, neck cramped, eyes gritty, and body tired down to his very bones, Seth paused in the foyer and looked at his home differently.
And for the first time in as long as he could remember, he wished for . . . something. Someone.
A dog. Even a godforsaken cat.
Or, maybe, a sassy-mouthed blond wedding planner.
He pushed this last thought aside as he dropped his keys on the console and flicked on the lights. Seth hadn’t heard from Brooke since last Friday when she’d rejected his kiss. While he couldn’t quite say he was over the sting of her rejection, at least he hadn’t done damage to her working relationship with his sister. A couple of casual questions to Maya had reassured him that Brooke was still very much the wedding planner.
The whole thing was just as well, he thought as he entered the small but modern kitchen and opened the fridge door. Getting involved with any woman wasn’t on the agenda right now. Not when every last drop of his energy went toward being a CEO worthy of filling his father’s shoes.
But if he were to get involved with a woman, it sure as hell shouldn’t be with one to whom he’d be writing a fat paycheck in a few months.
And unfortunately for Seth, he was increasingly worried that he would be writing a check. So far he’d turned up no tangible dirt on Neil, and his sister had given no indication that she regretted accepting the man’s proposal.
There was, of course, still the chance that Brooke might turn something up during the course of wedding planning, but it had been a long shot that she’d sabotage her own paycheck in the first place. Now that he’d gone and made a move on her, he wasn’t exactly betting the ranch that she was going to join his anti–Maya and Neil wedding campaign.
Which left him with the private investigator that Seth hadn’t quite worked up the courage to call back.
Seth closed the refrigerator door upon realizing that it was mostly empty. Fine. He wasn’t hungry so much as restless.
And not restless so much as horny.
“Shit,” he muttered, bracing his hands on the granite counter, and debated a cold shower. But he’d been trying that for days, and so far it had been completely ineffective at banishing images of Brooke from his mind.
For the three days he’d been out of the country, he’d been telling himself that he’d call up one of his old flings the moment he got back to New York. As far as little black books went, his was underdeveloped compared to Grant’s, but there were a handful of women who he’d consider friends with benefits. Women who, like him, were eager for companionship without expectation.
He picked up his phone with the intention of calling one of them, but the second he started scrolling through his contacts, he knew it was wrong. All wrong. Knew that there was only one woman who could assuage his lust.
Well, he’d be damned if he’d throw himself at her feet like a moron again, only for her to kick him when he was down. He’d shown her vulnerability and she’d all but laughed in his face. So no matter how much he still wanted her, he was just going to have to get over it.
Seth tossed his phone back on the counter and went to the old-fashioned bar cart along the window, pouring himself a couple of fingers of whisky as he stared absently out at the Manhattan skyline. Generally speaking, he wasn’t a big fan of drinking his problems away, but unlike professional problems, this couldn’t be solved with a bit of brainstorming, hard work, or strategizing.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and debated turning in early. It was barely nine, but he knew from experience that he was better off tackling the inevitable jet lag now before it walloped him in the ass in the days to come.
Maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe tomorrow he’d wake up and the first thought on his mind wouldn’t be a kiss that had ended prematurely.
Seth’s phone buzzed from the kitchen counter. He thought about ignoring it, figuring it was likely to be a business call that could wait until tomorrow, but then he glanced over.
It was the front desk of the hotel.
“Yeah.”
“Mr. Tyler, there’s a visitor here for you.”
Probably Grant. The man had zero qualms about stopping by unannounced to raid Seth’s booze collection, even though Grant’s own whisky collection rivaled most of Manhattan’s bars.
“Sure. Send him up.”
There was a beat of silence. “Sir, it’s a female visitor.”
Seth’s eyebrows lifted. “Maya?”
“No, not Ms. Tyler, sir. A Ms. Baldwin.”
Seth’s glass hit the counter with an awkward clank. Brooke.
He ran a hand through his plane-mussed hair. Frantically he ran through his calendar. Did they make an appointment he’d forgotten about? Had he missed a note from her about meeting to discuss
the wedding?
“Sir? Shall I send her up?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yes. Please send her up.”
The wait for her to make it from the lobby up to his private residences should have gone quickly, considering the fact that he’d been waiting for days to hear from her, but it was quite possibly the longest three minutes of his life.
Remember. She rejected you. Play it cool, man.
There was a quiet knock, and he took another sip of whisky for courage before he straightened his tie and opened the door, prepared for . . .
Well, hell, he didn’t know what he was prepared for.
The sight of her standing so close to his home nearly took his breath away. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and just slightly messy, courtesy of the winter windstorm that was ripping through the city.
A blue wool coat was draped over her arm, and she wore a cable-knit white sweaterdress that fell just below her knees, stopping just short of her calf-high boots.
She was dressed stylishly but practically given the winter weather. Hardly the picture of a woman hell-bent on seduction, but Seth felt seduced all the same.
He inhaled, hoping that whatever she wanted would be quick, as he was rapidly changing his mind on the necessity of that cold shower.
“Ms. Baldwin,” he said coolly, mentally applauding himself for the detached tone his voice had taken on. “This is certainly a surprise. What can I—”
“Shut up,” she said before he could finish his sentence. “Just shut up.”
She stepped toward him, going up on her toes and pressing her mouth to his, and Seth’s mind went blank with shock. With pleasure.
His hands lifted to her shoulders with the intention of pulling her back—of making her explain what had changed since the previous Friday night. But the way she clung to him, her lips moving against his with just a trace of desperation, gave him pause.
“Brooke, what’s going on?”
“I want you,” she said, pulling back just slightly. Her eyes made it only as far as his nose, as though she couldn’t force herself to meet his eyes. “I know we don’t want the same things, and you don’t want complicated. I don’t want complicated, either, and I was thinking . . . I was thinking maybe we get this out of our system.”
Seth’s fingers tightened on her shoulders as he jerked her toward him. “Just tonight?”
She bit her lip. Nodded.
“Thank God,” he said roughly just seconds before he crushed his mouth against hers.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It had none of his usual finesse.
But he’d make up for it later. Now he needed her taste. Needed her moans and her softness. Needed to feel that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Seth backed them up so that she was all the way in his apartment, fumbling behind her for the door as she dropped her coat and purse to the floor.
He slid his hands to her waist, dipping his knees slightly so he could move his mouth along the underside of her jaw before fusing their lips once more. As hungry as her kiss was, there was a shyness there, too—the faintest taste of hesitancy as though her brain hadn’t quite caught up to her body.
Seth gentled the kiss, giving her time. He brushed his lips back and forth against hers in a soft coaxing motion, using his tongue only to flick teasingly at the corner of her mouth before taking it away again.
Again and again he kissed her gently, teased her, making them both wait as his hands roamed her sides, her back, until she gave a quiet desperate moan and said his name.
“Seth.”
Yes.
His hands moved upward until they cupped her face, and he expertly nudged her lips apart, sliding his tongue forward so that it tangled hotly with hers.
He heard another moan, and he wasn’t entirely sure which of them made the noise. Sweet. She tasted so damn sweet.
“Off,” she said, shoving at his suit jacket. “Get this off.”
He pulled back slightly, breathing hard as he searched her face. “What changed your mind?”
“Hmm?” Her blue eyes were cloudy with desire as she ran her palms over his chest.
He caught her palms, held them flat against his chest, and waited for her to meet his eyes. She did, shyly, and Seth felt something tighten inside him.
“The other day, when I tried—you didn’t want me.”
“Please don’t think that,” she said, licking her lips. “I did want you. You know that I did.”
He did know that. He’d seen it. And yet . . . she’d walked away.
Brooke pulled her hands away as she stepped back. “Oh. God. You’ve changed your mind.”
“Wait. What?”
She knelt to pick up her coat, her cheeks turning pink. “All of the reasons I said no before . . . the complications, the fact that I work for you . . . I should have left it at that, I should have left it alone. I just thought . . . God, I am so stupid.”
He knelt down in front of her, capturing her wrist in his hand and pressing a thumb to her damp palm, stroking softly as he searched her face. “Don’t run, Brooke.”
She swallowed. “You haven’t changed your mind?”
“About wanting you?” he said with a smile, pulling her to her feet. “Not even close.”
“And you’re okay that I don’t want . . . more?”
His smile grew. “You do realize that a woman offering no-strings-attached sex is every bachelor’s dream?”
“Yes, but is it your dream?” she asked directly. “And if we do this”—she gestured between them—“it won’t impact my relationship with your sister? You won’t think less of me for potentially having a conflict of interest?”
Seth reached forward, wrapping his palms around her hips and pulling her forward before resting his forehead against hers, needing to make her understand. “The only interest I care about right now is the interest I have in getting you out of that dress.”
Chapter Nineteen
BROOKE HAD SPENT THE entire cab ride over to Seth’s place trying to tell herself not to chicken out. Reminding herself that she was a modern twenty-something woman who was allowed to have a one-night stand with a man who she was attracted to.
As it turned out, chickening out wasn’t the problem.
The second she’d gathered her courage and set her mouth against his, Brooke had realized the problem wouldn’t be running away. It would be stopping at one night.
Now his large hands still rested on her hips, his thumbs pressing enticingly against her hip bones, and still he waited.
Of course he was waiting for her green light. Even though he was cocky and a bit stingy with his emotions, Seth Tyler had a thick layer of gentleman beneath all that swagger.
Tonight, though, Brooke didn’t want gentle.
She wanted rough.
Her hands were resting on the hard planes of his chest, and she crept one hand up until her finger hooked under his tie as she tugged his face all the way down to hers, bringing his lips within millimeters of her own.
“Take me,” she whispered.
This time when Seth’s mouth crashed against hers, she knew there was no going back, and she relished it. Relished the need in his kiss, knowing that she echoed it with her own.
Brooke’s hands tore at the knot in his tie as his slid beneath the hem of her dress and back up so that he cupped her backside. Leggings were a crucial, if not necessarily sexy, part of living through an East Coast winter, but Seth didn’t seem to mind as he palmed her ass through the thin material with warm hands.
“I knew you would feel this good,” he said against her mouth, his teeth nipping lightly against her upper lip as he squeezed her flesh.
“Skin on skin would feel better,” she said, her head falling to the side so he could nuzzle her neck.
“Yeah?” he whispered against her throat. “You want my hands on you?”
He sucked at her skin, and Brooke whimpered.
Seth continued to knead her flesh through her leggings
as she slid her hands down, tugging his shirt out of the waistband of his pants, sliding up under his undershirt until her palms met his bare skin.
He groaned softly, and Brooke smiled in victory. “You see? Better.”
Seth’s mouth slid back up to meet hers at the same time his hands slid even lower, scooping under her butt and hoisting her up. Brooke instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms winding around his neck.
“All right, Baldwin. You win,” he said gruffly, kissing her before easily pivoting, supporting her weight as he carried her into the bedroom. “Skin on skin it is.”
She expected him to deposit her on the bed, but he stopped just beside it, letting her body slide down his before he reached down and turned on the lamp on the nightstand.
“Um . . .” She gave the lamp a skeptical look. She was twenty-eight, not eighteen. Things were mostly firm, but not bright-light toned by any stretch of the imagination.
Seth’s hands cupped her cheeks as his lips drifted across her temple. “I want to see you.”
Brooke’s eyes drifted closed as he kissed her slow and sweet, and she felt herself nod in agreement. Because she wanted to see him, too.
He nudged her back to the bed, and without speaking, they both went through the awkward, unsexy process of removing their shoes. Brooke peeled her leggings down her legs and tossed them aside as Seth shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair.
Their eyes locked and Brooke swallowed nervously, but before nerves could take over, he stepped toward her, hooking his hands behind her knees and lifting her feet to the bed. His blue eyes stayed locked on hers as his palms slid up along her thighs, bunching her dress up around her hips.
His eyes drifted downward to the small triangle of her panties now exposed to his hot gaze.
He dragged the knuckle of his forefinger over her, feeling her wetness even through the fabric of her underwear, and her head fell backward, hitting a feather-soft pillow.
“You’ve been thinking about me. About this,” he said, repeating the motion with his finger. “For how long?”
She didn’t respond, and he withdrew his hand. She raised her head and glared in protest and he lifted his eyes. “How long, beautiful? How long have you been thinking about me touching you there?”