Billionaire With a Twist by Lila Monroe Page B

fingers spreading to stroke where
they rested against the T-shirt over his chest… No!
    I snatched my hand away, blushing.
    “Uh. Why were you looking for
me?” I asked quickly, trying to distract him from my accidental
almost-groping. “Was there something you needed to tell me?”
    “Indeed there was,” he said
with a grin that told me he had definitely noticed that too-long
touch, and hadn’t quite decided whether or not to let me off
the hook. “I wanted to tell you that the cook has made her
famous pork chops for dinner.” He offered his hand. “I
was hoping that might tempt you to join me.”
    Like that man needed to offer pork
chops to be a walking temptation.
    Too bad it was one I couldn’t
give in to.
    “My room has plenty of food in
the kitchen, I don’t want to intrude—” I began,
though I really did, in the worst way. But then my stomach rumbled
like a dying bear, betraying me. I blushed so scarlet that the Red
Sea would be a pale pink in comparison.
    “Sounds like someone disagrees
with you,” he said, eyes twinkling.
    “Just my body,” I said.
“It’s an idiot. I try not to listen to it.”
    “Oh?” he said, raising an
eyebrow. “I’ve found that my body offers excellent
advice.”
    Well, why don’t we reintroduce
them and see if yours is a good influence , my mouth urged me to
say. I bit it back down and said instead, as lightly as I could,
“Care to trade?”
    That was a mistake. He eyed me up and
down, and I felt my blood heat up in some extremely inopportune parts
of me.
    “It is an excellent body,”
he murmured.
    He leaned forward, and for one second,
I thought he was going to kiss me.
    Then he linked arms with me instead.
“Come on. Let your body lead you to some new experiences.”
    When he put it like that, how could I
refuse?

 

SIX
     
    “And don’t come back here
for thirty minutes!”
    Turns out that those pork chops were
still simmering, and the cook didn’t take kindly to two people
standing over her shoulder drooling, even when one of those two
people was a hunky guy with a body that belonged on the cover of
Playgirl.
    A blast of hot air accompanied us out
of the kitchen doors, before the cool air-conditioning enveloped us
once again.
    Then I looked up at Hunter, grinning
that easy grin with those perfect teeth and those golden eyes…
    Yeah, suddenly all the air seemed very
hot again.
    “Sorry about that,” he
said, grabbing my wrist and tugging me down the hall. I tried to
concentrate on his words and not the gentle firmness of his hands.
“She’s got a bit of a temper, and the whole kitchen is
her sovereign territory.”
    “I didn’t notice you
disabusing her of that idea,” I pointed out.
    His grin grew wider. “Because
she’s entirely correct. I couldn’t microwave popcorn if
you duct-taped the instructions to my face.”
    I laughed, and let him pull me along.
“So where are we going now?”
    “Well, I can’t let my
expensive new advertising consultant starve because of a territory
dispute,” Hunter said dryly. “I’m going to have to
take drastic measures.”
    “Drastic measures?” I
echoed sarcastically. “What, are we going to go shoot a bear?
Because my shot would put you to shame, just warning you.”
    He turned back towards me, raising an
eyebrow. “You can shoot?”
    “Since I was a teenager,” I
said. “My dad used to sneak me out to the range; Mom never
would have approved.” That was putting it lightly; if she ever
found out, I would shortly thereafter be finding out exactly what it
looked like when a human head exploded.
    “Well, that’s good to
know,” Hunter said. “But the measures tonight aren’t
quite so drastic. I just happen to have a secret snack stash.”
    I raised my eyebrow even though he had
turned back away and couldn’t see it. “When did you turn
into a teenage girl?”
    And when had I decided it was a good
idea to mouth off to my boss/client? I knew the words coming out of
my lips weren’t