interested.”
“I’m waiting for Hank,” he said, his face relaxed with amusement.
She frowned. “Are you and Hank—you know?”
“What?” He scowled. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“I just thought—” She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Why would you think I was gay?”
“Aren’t a lot of pretty boys?” Shiloh slapped her hands over her mouth.
“You think I’m pretty? Thank you, I think. You’d just love it if I were gay, wouldn’t you? Sorry to disappoint.”
She was actually relieved, though really, the idea of Nicholas Trent being gay had seemed a little over the top. Especially after the kiss.
“Would you like me to prove it to you?” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he brought his hand to her mouth and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.
Shiloh swallowed hard, her blood pumping wildly through her veins. What did they say about a man with large hands and… She glanced down at his boots.
He winked, then grinned wickedly. “Size thirteen, if you’re interested.”
Had he known what she was thinking? Once again, her face heated with embarrassment. Why were her hands itching to touch him?
She needed to go home. “Okay. Well, I’m heading out.” Shiloh slid off the barstool and teetered forward.
“Whoa—there. How many drinks have you had?”
“Just a couple. I’m fine.” She took another step and swayed right into him, inhaling his musky maleness, an arousing woodsy scent that caused her head to swim even more.
“You’re not fine. You’ve had too much to drink.” Nick held her shoulders and stared intently into her eyes. “I’m taking you home.”
“No! I can drive.” At that instant, Shiloh wished she’d stopped to eat something before she started drinking. The alcohol was clouding her judgment.
His eyes darkened and he shook his head. “No you can’t, Shiloh.”
“That’s Ms. Templar to you,” she shot back.
“Fine, Ms. Templar. I’m driving you home.” He grabbed a napkin off the bar, took a pen out of his leather jacket and scribbled something on it. Signaling the bartender, he whispered something to the man and handed him the paper. The man nodded.
“Okay. Come on. Let’s go.”
“But…”
“But nothing. You’re in no shape to drive.”
Shiloh allowed him to usher her through the bar, her head now spinning, her mind racing wildly.
Was she going to allow him up to her apartment? Would he insist on tucking her into bed and giving her another goodnight kiss? The mere thought caused her breasts to tighten and sweat to trickle down between them.
Oh God, why did she suddenly want him in the worst way? It had to be the alcohol talking, because it was ludicrous to want Nicholas Trent in her bed when she wanted him out of her office.
Wasn’t it?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nick drove into the underground parking garage, and after finding a space, killed the engine.
Shiloh had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, her head tilted his way. Even in the car her lightly freckled complexion intoxicated him. The fullness of her peach-colored lips always seemed to be pouting, and her long, burnt auburn lashes fanned her cheeks.
In an unconventional way, Shiloh was beautiful. Not the typical blond beach-babe he was normally attracted to, but she was a real woman.
He itched to reach out and brush off the strand of hair that had fallen into her face, but he resisted.
Taking in a deep breath, he forced down the lump forming in his throat. Stop it, Trent. She’s your boss. Don’t think about her as a woman .
Still, he allowed his gaze to travel down her long, delicate neck to the simple white blouse that gaped open. He noticed the lace of her matching bra peeked out beneath, exposing some of her flesh.
“Jeez,” Nick hissed, his jeans becoming uncomfortable. He was wrong; how could he not help but think about her like this. She was definitely a woman, and he couldn’t help but gawk at her cleavage. The word amazing
“I’m waiting for Hank,” he said, his face relaxed with amusement.
She frowned. “Are you and Hank—you know?”
“What?” He scowled. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“I just thought—” She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Why would you think I was gay?”
“Aren’t a lot of pretty boys?” Shiloh slapped her hands over her mouth.
“You think I’m pretty? Thank you, I think. You’d just love it if I were gay, wouldn’t you? Sorry to disappoint.”
She was actually relieved, though really, the idea of Nicholas Trent being gay had seemed a little over the top. Especially after the kiss.
“Would you like me to prove it to you?” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he brought his hand to her mouth and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.
Shiloh swallowed hard, her blood pumping wildly through her veins. What did they say about a man with large hands and… She glanced down at his boots.
He winked, then grinned wickedly. “Size thirteen, if you’re interested.”
Had he known what she was thinking? Once again, her face heated with embarrassment. Why were her hands itching to touch him?
She needed to go home. “Okay. Well, I’m heading out.” Shiloh slid off the barstool and teetered forward.
“Whoa—there. How many drinks have you had?”
“Just a couple. I’m fine.” She took another step and swayed right into him, inhaling his musky maleness, an arousing woodsy scent that caused her head to swim even more.
“You’re not fine. You’ve had too much to drink.” Nick held her shoulders and stared intently into her eyes. “I’m taking you home.”
“No! I can drive.” At that instant, Shiloh wished she’d stopped to eat something before she started drinking. The alcohol was clouding her judgment.
His eyes darkened and he shook his head. “No you can’t, Shiloh.”
“That’s Ms. Templar to you,” she shot back.
“Fine, Ms. Templar. I’m driving you home.” He grabbed a napkin off the bar, took a pen out of his leather jacket and scribbled something on it. Signaling the bartender, he whispered something to the man and handed him the paper. The man nodded.
“Okay. Come on. Let’s go.”
“But…”
“But nothing. You’re in no shape to drive.”
Shiloh allowed him to usher her through the bar, her head now spinning, her mind racing wildly.
Was she going to allow him up to her apartment? Would he insist on tucking her into bed and giving her another goodnight kiss? The mere thought caused her breasts to tighten and sweat to trickle down between them.
Oh God, why did she suddenly want him in the worst way? It had to be the alcohol talking, because it was ludicrous to want Nicholas Trent in her bed when she wanted him out of her office.
Wasn’t it?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nick drove into the underground parking garage, and after finding a space, killed the engine.
Shiloh had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, her head tilted his way. Even in the car her lightly freckled complexion intoxicated him. The fullness of her peach-colored lips always seemed to be pouting, and her long, burnt auburn lashes fanned her cheeks.
In an unconventional way, Shiloh was beautiful. Not the typical blond beach-babe he was normally attracted to, but she was a real woman.
He itched to reach out and brush off the strand of hair that had fallen into her face, but he resisted.
Taking in a deep breath, he forced down the lump forming in his throat. Stop it, Trent. She’s your boss. Don’t think about her as a woman .
Still, he allowed his gaze to travel down her long, delicate neck to the simple white blouse that gaped open. He noticed the lace of her matching bra peeked out beneath, exposing some of her flesh.
“Jeez,” Nick hissed, his jeans becoming uncomfortable. He was wrong; how could he not help but think about her like this. She was definitely a woman, and he couldn’t help but gawk at her cleavage. The word amazing
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