‘I’ll make you a proposition.’ He lifted the glass to his lips, taking a sip while his words sank in.
Libby shook her head, determined to wrestle back the upper hand. ‘I’ve conceded enough to you in our short acquaintance.’
Alex bit his lip, hiding a smile.
Bastard.
He flared his nostrils, sucking in a breath and tilting his head back to consider the ceiling. Good. She posed a challenge—no doubt a novelty to someone in his position. She could almost hear the cogs working in his head.
‘Fair point.’ He rubbed his index and middle finger along his lower lip. ‘How about for every concession you make, I’ll make one too?’
He shifted, his thighs parting a fraction more, as if he were growing uncomfortable. Was she having a similar effect on him as he had on her?
His voice dropped. Slow. Deep. Intimate.
‘Equal. Mutually satisfying.’
He took another sip of wine. Waiting. Watching her over the rim.
Libby recrossed her legs, her thighs clammy. ‘A negotiation? I warn you, I’m good.’
Not that she had any experience with this kind of deal. How to be a high school sweetheart, how to be a girlfriend, how to be a fiancée—yes. But how to handle this searing sexual chemistry and keep enough distance to emerge unscathed? Could he tell she was making this up as she went along?
He grinned.
Thought he had this in the bag, did he?
He gave a slow nod. ‘I know that. Research, remember? The best.’ He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, his voice a low whisper, eyes aglow. ‘What do you say? Up for a little…adventure?’
Her mind raced, her heart beating its way into her throat.
Yes.
No.
‘It depends…’
Were they even still talking about work? Did it matter? Perhaps Sonya, Vinnie and her hormones were right. A no-strings dalliance was exactly what she needed—slake this intense thirst she’d thought long extinguished, then finish a rewarding and lucrative job and move on.
As if he’d read her mind, he said, ‘Come on.’
Libby leaned closer. His low voice called to her, zinging straight between her legs. From this distance, she could see his pulse flicking in the notch at the base of his throat, the dark hairs peeking over the open neck of his shirt, could smell the detergent he used on his laundry.
His voice continued—persuasive, tempting. ‘You’re a perceptive, intelligent woman…’
She braced one foot on the floor, her body swaying towards his as if she was hard of hearing and needed to lean closer to his tantalising mouth. Her hand landed on his thigh, steadying her balance, but the denim was a poor barrier to the heat and bulk of his taut muscles.
‘You feel this insane chemistry too.’ His stare smouldered, his breath tickling her neck.
She practically sagged into him. She wasn’t alone. Wasn’t imagining this. But should she act on it? Did she dare?
‘I want you.’ He held eye contact, his stark statement hanging in the crackling air between them. ‘Physically, professionally.’
He spoke as if he was negotiating a business deal. Calm, collected, poker-faced.
A tiny shrug of one shoulder. ‘Stay.’
He made it sound so easy—a foregone conclusion. And she was sorely tempted.
All the time they’d talked, he hadn’t touched her. His hands were still relaxed on the arms of the barstool when all she wanted to do was slide her fingers through his silky dishevelled hair and angle his head until he kissed her. Kissed away the doubt. Kissed away the memories. Kissed away the loneliness.
She sat back, her hand slipping from the rock-hard muscles of his thigh. Time to wrestle this back under her command. Get a grip of herself and this situation. Give him a taste of his own medicine.
The trouble was, lust had robbed her brain of its usual quick wit and all the negotiating skills she’d bragged about. Every single comeback or demand had fled her mind like sand falling through the holes of a sieve.
Perhaps she’d transmitted her thoughts telepathically to him, because he said, ‘You need control?’
Could he see her that clearly? Were her fears, her hang-ups, so clearly displayed on her face?
He’d dropped the smile, his expression now serious, as if he understood the momentous battle raging inside her. She wanted him too—had spent the day thinking about him, about what it would be like to feel his touch, feel his mouth, feel him move inside her…
The urge to give in to that curiosity, that need, was overwhelming.
He dipped his chin, ensuring that she saw him—saw both the sincerity in his stare and the flare of the same battle inside him.
‘I’m man enough to concede it. What can I do to give you what you need so we can both win?’
A silent groan had Libby’s eyes drooping as she took in a long, ragged breath. What an intoxicating offer. Could she do this? Separate business from pleasure? Keep things casual between them? On her terms? Give him a concession or two and take what he was willing to concede?
She opened her eyes to his continued stare. The slight flare of his nostrils was the only sign that he too experienced the anticipation that fluttered in Libby’s belly, bringing her to life.
Until she spoke, she was clueless as to how she’d respond. ‘I’ll give you a week.’
A week?
He nodded. So accommodating. So skilled at negotiating this fragile truce.
But she, too, could strike a pretty deal. Time to see how much he was willing to relinquish. Could he be a man of his word? Was he really interested in a deal? Did he want her enough to agree to her terms?
There was only one way to find out.
She leaned closer, her lips parting on a barely there gasp as their knees made contact. She dropped her voice, as he’d done. ‘If we’re working together…’ her eyes flicked to his crotch, still displayed before her ‘…and fucking, I won’t be bossed around.’
Another nod. Another delicious concession.
Her mind raced, searching for a compromise that, as he’d put it, would allow them both to get what they wanted. She’d never fought so hard. Her self-preservation demanded every inch of ground acquired.
The ultimate test of his mettle would come. Could he withstand what she had planned for him? Would her nerve hold?
Libby’s temperature reached boiling point, seconds away from spontaneous combustion. She shook her head slowly, commanding his full attention. ‘You won’t get your own way all the time.’
He shrugged again, the small half-smile returning. ‘If I had my way…’ he lifted his wine glass, taking a sip, his eyes slowly raking over her mouth ‘…I’d have fucked you at the top of The Shard this morning. Had you screaming my name with that sexy voice of yours.’
Her gasp sounded so loud she expected the whole population of the bar to turn in their direction.
He quirked a scornful brow. ‘Seems to me, you are the one getting her way, Olivia.’
Danger. He reeked of it. Not that her personal safety was in question. But she should run