Playing With Seduction. Reese Ryan

to work together, I don’t want things to be weird between us. So I wanted to clear the air by saying I’m sorry.”

      Wes seemed pleasantly surprised by her apology. He scooted forward on the couch and gave her a sheepish smile. “I accept your apology, but only if you’ll accept mine. I wanted to call, I just...” He sighed, then scooted back on the couch again. His tone turned more serious. “Didn’t seem like it was the right time for me.”

      “Oh.” She hadn’t meant to say it out aloud. Especially not in that sad, wounded-puppy whimper that changed his expression from contrition to pity. When he felt remorse, she had the upper hand. Now that he seemed to pity her, the power had shifted back to him. Bree shot to her feet. “No apology necessary, but thanks. I’ll let myself out.”

      “What prompted the change of heart?”

      Her hand was nearly on the doorknob, but his question grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her back into the room. She turned back to him and shrugged. “For the sake of the project.”

      He took a few steps toward her. “Why were you so upset about that night?”

      “Why does it matter?”

      “Curious, I guess.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, drawing her attention to the strain the gesture placed on the placard covering his zipper.

      “I overreacted. I get cranky when I’m jet-lagged.” The space between them was closing too rapidly. She took a few steps backward toward the door.

      His self-assured smile suggested that her answer had told him everything he needed to know.

      Her cheeks flamed and she swiveled on her heels, but before she could escape, he’d gently caught her by the hand. A familiar heat traveled from his large hand into hers, up her arm and into her chest. She raised her eyes to his.

      “Look, I bought more than enough food to share. I’m going to marinate the steaks then get a few hours of sleep. But I should have the steaks on the grill at say—” Wes flipped his wrist and glanced at his watch “—seven thirty. Why don’t you join me for dinner? You can assess my cooking abilities for yourself.”

      His wide grin and close proximity were doing things to her she wasn’t proud of. Wesley Adams wasn’t a man she should be flirting with. Nor were they friends. He was a means to an end.

      Bree glanced down at his hand on her arm and he dropped it to his side and took a step backward. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m pretty tired, too. I should probably just order in and get some rest.”

      “The invitation is open, if you change your mind.”

      * * *

      Bree had turned and run out of there like her hair was on fire. If it hadn’t wounded his pride, he would’ve found it funny.

      Wes closed the door behind her and returned to the kitchen. He seasoned the steaks and put them into the fridge.

      You invited her to dinner, genius? Really?

      They were forced to work together over the course of the next six months. Like Bree said, they needed to play nice. He appreciated that she’d come to that conclusion. That she had no plans to make the next six months a living hell for both of them.

      Being cordial was crucial to the success of the project. Getting to know each other, up close and personal, could only lead to trouble. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself. His brain had taken a coffee break and the head on his shoulders was no longer in control.

      He’d been dying for another excuse to touch her warm, soft skin. The memory of their night together in London blazed brightly in the back of his mind, like an image from an old-fashioned projector. His skin tingled with the sensation of her body pressed to his on the dance floor. Of his mouth on her lips, her neck, her bare shoulder. The unfinished business between them.

      It was good Bree had turned down his invitation. Better for the both of them.