“I said stay out of it.”
“Why?” Ever outspoken, she voiced the query with a frown.
Basil leaned forward. “Because I said so.”
“Dad.”
“You’re skating on the thinnest piece of ice now, miss.”
Understanding the warning, Avra barely nodded. She left the office soon after.
* * *
It went without saying that Avra was a million miles away in thought when she returned to her office. She muttered below her breath, talking about what she suspected and what she’d uncovered.
Her thumbnail was raking her chin when she strolled through her door, never noticing Samson Melendez sitting behind her desk. She was standing before him on the other side of the cluttered oak top, observing him blankly for several seconds before tuning in to what was really going on.
Sam hid his smile, fingers laced in his lap while he reared back in her chair and watched the absent look on her face change into one of scathing speculation.
“Afternoon,” he greeted before she could open her mouth to blast him.
“What are you doing in here?” She looked back quickly to check on the notes she’d recovered from Wade’s. They appeared to be untouched. Propping one hand to her hip, she fixed Sam with an expectant stare.
Sam, however, was in no hurry to explain, happy to keep her standing there for his appraisal. Of course when Samson Melendez appraised, a woman was left with no doubts as to what he was doing. Sam’s usual “appraisal,” however, was most often a purely physical observation of the woman he intended on taking to bed. Rarely did those observations involve emotional attachment.
Sam recognized it, though. As he observed the tall, dark chocolate beauty before the desk, he knew that emotions had definitely attached themselves. His constant appraisal of Avra Ross had finally carried things to a purely irresistible level. Not until she called—er—yelled his name, did he blink. Smoothly, he recalled his real reason for dropping by that afternoon.
“Kemah trip’s been scheduled. We should discuss the itinerary.” Sam referred to the scouting trip to locations for new MM ads in the Ross Review.
Avra lifted her hands briefly and let them hit her thighs with a soft clap. “Is your wireless service down, Sam? A call, email or text would’ve been just fine for this talk—better, actually.”
“Why better?” Sam grimaced, unaware that he was doing so.
Avra watched him as though he were losing his mind in front of her. “Samson, if somebody was using our names in the same sentence, chances were they’d be recapping a fight.”
Laughter roused hearty and long from Sam then. Avra bristled, feeling herself react to the sound in a way that wasn’t altogether unpleasant. When he stood behind her desk, she covertly appraised the stunning breadth of him. She wondered, as she often did, whether he was really that…massive. Perhaps it was merely a trick of finely crafted clothing, she thought eyeing the dark olive three-piece.
She’d collected herself and smothered her admiration by the time he stood before her.
“We leave in three days,” he was saying.
“What about the wedding?”
“We’ll be back in plenty of time.” He gave a quick, light shake of his head. “Bride and groom want this thing in the bag. Least we can do since they worked so hard to take care of what we couldn’t.”
“You know, one of my staff could give the okay on this location stuff just as well as I can.”
“Not good enough.”
“Look, Sam—”
“Come with me or the agreement’s null.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe you’d stoop so low.”
“Sure you can.”
Avra looked down at the carpet where she stabbed it with the heel of her lavender pump. “There’s something you enjoy about giving me a hard time, isn’t there?”
Appearing to contemplate her words, Sam tapped his fingers to the seductive curve of his mouth and smiled faintly.
Avra felt helpless to direct her gaze away from the gesture.
“I think you’re right,” he muttered.
“That’s a first.”
Any more that she might have said was silenced when his mouth crashed down on hers and he proceeded to kiss her hungrily. Resisting never occurred to Avra. She was determined to find out whether or not his build was credited to great tailoring or genetics.
Quickly she discovered it was all him. Heatedly she participated in the kiss, caressing his tongue over and under as she moaned unashamed.
Eventually it was Sam who pulled back, but only briefly. When he spied the wetness on her mouth, he couldn’t resist another taste of her.
Faintly—very faintly—Avra realized she wasn’t refusing him. She didn’t want to refuse. Sam realized it, as well. Big hands cupping her delicate face, he drove his tongue deeper, craving more of her unique taste.
He ordered his need to cool and broke the kiss, stroking the tips of his thumbs across her moist, swollen lips. He waited until she brought her eyes to his. The smile he directed her way wasn’t gloating, but tender. “I’m gonna have to work on changing your perception of me.” He left her alone soon after.
Dazedly Avra stumbled back to her desk and leaned on one corner. It was some time before her breathing slowed.
Chapter 2
“Damn him.” Avra blurted the words and shoved aside the file she’d been trying to review since she got up that morning.
Memories of the kiss with Sam Melendez that previous afternoon had her mind and everything else reacting to it. How dare he kiss her? How dare she want it? She despised the man, didn’t she? They’d known each other for two years as business associates. Before that she’d known of him. He was the son of one
of her father’s oldest friends. From scores of female acquaintances she’d heard he was built, with looks to die for.
Once she’d officially met him, she realized those accolades were well deserved. But he shouldn’t have kissed her. She shouldn’t have wanted it and more still after he’d walked out of her office.
The fact that he wanted her in his bed was no secret. He’d been up front about that from a few days after they’d first met to work on the Machine Melendez account with the Ross Review.
Avra cursed again. She had railed too long and too hard against strong, commanding men to give any part of herself to the likes of Sam Melendez. Strong, commanding, chauvinistic, politically incorrect men like Sam Melendez, she added. If he was simply one of her many male friends, she could find amusement in his lack of decorum and sexist nature. As it was directed toward her and he was ever so confident about taking her to bed, those less than admirable traits of his only grated more heavily on her nerves.
She stooped to the floor and began to collect the papers from the Wade Cornelius file that were scattered around the settee in her living room. She wondered if Sam knew how much of her hard-hearted approach was an act. It was unfortunately the only way she could ignore the way her body reacted to his presence and all the other things he did to get under her skin.
Sadly she’d devised no other method for resisting a reaction to his touch. If yesterday afternoon was any example, she was in serious trouble if he did that again.
Closing her eyes, she settled back against one of the settee’s claw-footed legs and surrendered to a delicious shiver that raced through her body then. To no one else would