Page 72 of Nothing to Win

TWENTY-THREE

GIA PUT HER BACK to the bar to watch and wait for Brogan to materialize at the top of the stairs in the opposite corner.The moment he appeared, she went toward him, enjoying the sight of him in his crisp tailored suit.She had claim to that man, that hot, delicious man, temporary, yeah, but it was there.

Their eyes locked on their walk to meet in front of the kitchen island.

“Good evening,” he said.

He did briefly glance Shanna’s way before bowing to kiss her, probably cursing the restraint he had to show in front of her friend.She cursed it.Oh, she was a horrible person.

Gia tried to tempt his mouth to stay a little longer on hers than maybe he’d intended.

“Do you know what my favorite time of the day is?”she asked, putting the Scotch in his hand then freeing the knot in his tie.

Without objecting, he sipped the drink.“First thing in the morning when I bring you hot coffee in bed?”

She grinned and undid the top three buttons of his shirt.“Okay, my second favorite time?”

“When?”

“Right now,” she said, slipping her hands into his shirt and up under his collar to pull him down.“When you come home from work and I get to loosen you up.”

As she nuzzled his mouth, he stroked her hip.“Coming back to you is my favorite time too, Irish.”

The phone rang and she groaned on starting around the island.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she said, sliding her palm across the granite.

“I want to get changed,” he said, monitoring her every step.

“This is probably Julius with a wine question.”

“A wine question?”

Smiling at his confused frown, she picked up the phone, stroking the counter.

“Spurn residence,” she sang, loving the way Brogan’s eyes devoured her even from this distance.

“Gianna.”

Her father’s voice snapped her taut.“Daddy?”she asked.Interest twitched in Brogan’s eye.“Is something wrong?”

Conway Sear never called this number.Like ever.

“No, I called his office,” her father said.“They said Spurn wasn’t there and could be reached here.”

Dipping her head, she focused on the floor, lowering her volume.“You want to talk to Brogan?”

He was ignorant to her apprehension.“Yes, is he there?”

“He literally just walked in the door, but—”

The phone was stolen from her hand: Brogan.He stroked her back and bowed to kiss the corner of her mouth, probably to reassure her.It would take way more than that.

Ah, ah, she curved an arm around him, holding herself against him to prevent him going anywhere.Peering up, hoping to hear as much of the conversation as possible, she needed him near for her sanity.

“Conway,” Brogan said into the handset.

Talking.Talking.What could they possibly have to talk about?The awkward almost truce between them was still fragile.Bram hadn’t made a scene during his birthday party, which was encouraging.She could rely on that peace, right?