Her Client from Hell by Louisa George Page B

Brennan . But now she’d confirmed she really, really needed his money. Swiping her hands together, she gave him a self-satisfied grin. ‘Done. Finished. Finito .’
    His eyebrows rose—impressed or disappointed? She couldn’t tell which. ‘In August? Aren’t they due in October?’
    ‘Apparently so. So whoop-de-do me. Yay.’ She gave a small fist-pump but didn’t think it prudent to mention they were last year’s accounts, so already ten months late. Mr Frumpy Grumpy would scowl even more. In fact, until she’d received the final notice and threat of legal action that morning, she’d put the whole tax thing to the bottom of her list. But heck, it had been swiftly moved up. And now she’d finished them and sent them and felt, for the first time in a few weeks, a little lighter. So she’d come out hoping to relax and he was going to spoil that. Because how could she relax with that kiss hovering between them? ‘Shouldn’t you be in Iceland?’
    ‘It was only a four-day job. Got back this afternoon, just in time for this. Nate invited me ages ago and I didn’t want to miss it. Between them, your sister and her husband have raised a lot of cash for special needs kids.’
    ‘Well, lucky me.’ Glancing at the empty seats, she felt a twinge in her heart. ‘Have I missed them? Please don’t tell me I’m too late to cheer her on. This means so much to her.’
    ‘So you could try using a watch?’
    She tried to stop her shoulders from slumping, not least because her dress was so low-cut she was in danger of spilling her assets on to her side plate. ‘I don’t need a watch; I just need more time in the day.’
    The frost seemed to melt a little. ‘You look very different tonight.’
    Was it because his eyes had followed the line of her cowl neckline? And he liked what he saw. Clearly. If only there’d been any possible way she could have worn a bra—but backless was backless. The edges of his mouth tilted upwards as she sat up straighter and patted the soft folds of black chiffon fabric against her chest, then made sure the shoestring straps were in place, holding the whole thing together. Tying the damned things at the small of her back had been a feat even a contortionist would have struggled with.
    ‘Thank you.’ She caught herself staring into those dark eyes for way longer than she should.
    He shook his head as if he couldn’t make any sense of it. ‘Sasha and Nate have been backstage most of the evening; Nate did a song and handed out a few awards. If you take the time to read the programme instead of whipping up a whirlwind with it, you’ll see they’re up next.’
    ‘Oh, good. I’m so glad. I didn’t want to let her down.’
    ‘Don’t worry. They don’t know you were late. Relax, Cassandra.’ No one ever called her that. No one. It had been something teachers used whenever she was in trouble. But heck, listening to that voice whisper her name, feeling the strange tumbling in her stomach and hot points of raw need in inconvenient places—she was in trouble all right. Big trouble. He poured a large glass of champagne and handed it to her. ‘You did miss dinner, though, but it can be our secret. I won’t tell if you don’t.’
    She took the glass from him and had a sip, tried to concentrate on the tickle of bubbles down her throat rather than the tickle of butterflies stretching their wings in her stomach just from being next to him.
    This was ridiculous. He was a client. She’d dealt with lots of clients before and none had made her tickly inside. ‘I don’t want to share secrets with you, Jack Brennan.’
    ‘Are you sure about that?’ The intense stare was mocking and teasing. Serious—yet there was a glimmer of amusement. Once again she got the feeling he was holding back every ounce of emotion, be it humour, anger or desire. The man was the very essence of self-control.
    And she was torn between shaking him and kissing him again. Just for a reaction. Something unprepared,