Page 14 of Wicked Fortune

One brow rises as he says, “Are you?”

I’m suddenly grateful for the dim light, as I’m sure I’ve turned bright red. “Maybe that’s why I came,” I say, then want to slap my own face. “You know what, never mind. I’m just going to throw myself over the balcony and save us both the trouble.”

He chuckles and reaches for my elbow. The shock of his touch ricochets through me, and I fear he’s about to turn my embarrassing misspeak into an actual reality. “Don’t jump,” he says. “It’s a bitch getting blood out of the grout between the marble tiles.”

And just like that, I’m laughing. Still slightly embarrassed, but that’s fading fast. “I wouldn’t know. I’m a terrible housekeeper.”

“Probably because you’re out partying instead of keeping your home clean and shiny.”

“Oh, I’m not partying. I’m working.”

“Are you.” He keeps his expression blank, but I hear the humor in his voice. “How so?”

“Research.”

He releases my elbow, and I mourn the loss of contact. “I’ll bite,” he says, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. “What kind of research?”

I run the tip of my finger down his tie, a remarkably bold move for only one glass of champagne. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m researching you.”

“I’m intrigued. And why the need to pop me under the microscope?”

“You have my resume. I figure it’s only fair that I have a feel for who I might be working for, too.” It’s all over my voice—I’ve crossed the line and am now a full-fledged flirty little minx. Honestly, I have no idea what’s come over me. But whatever it is, I’m enjoying it. So is Holt, if the crinkles at the corners of his eyes are any indication.

Then again, maybe he’s studying me and not fighting a grin.

“What?” I demand as silence lingers, but he only shakes his head, a smug grin now tugging at that wide, glorious mouth.

Apparently he wasn’t studying me. Either that or he approves of what he sees. Score one for Team Parker.

I stumble a bit as I step backward, then lean against the railing, positioning myself so I can easily see him. He’s done the same, and for a moment we just stand there, both of us taking the other in.

I know he’s twenty years older than me, but I don’t see it when I look at him. Except for those sexy as hell lines at the corners of his eyes, his face is all chiseled features and sharp angles, highlighted by a wide mouth and a pair of sensual lips that I’m quite certain he knows how to put to good use.

The only clue that he’s in his late forties is the hint of gray at his temples. And that, frankly, is a look I find very, very sexy.

Despite my better judgment, I let myself wonder if the parts of him hidden under that corporate armor are as lean and chiseled. That’s certainly the image my imagination is drawing—an image that is not only delicious but has my cheeks heating up all over again. Not to mention other parts of my anatomy.

“A feel,” he whispers, his voice little more than a low rumble as he repeats my earlier words. “A feel for who you’ll be working for.” He takes one step toward me, putting him so close that his breath ruffles my hair, now a wavy brown, shoulder-length with copper highlights. “As it happens, if hired, you’ll be working directly under me.” I hear the slight emphasis on the word under and feel the reverberation of that word between my thighs. “So why don’t you tell me exactly what kind of feel you were hoping for?”

My entire face goes hot, and despite the dim lighting, I know I’m in trouble here. I’m not a woman who can hold her own with high-level sexual banter. But I am a woman with a very vivid imagination. And the moment his eyes meet mine, I’m certain he knows exactly where my mind has gone. But if that twinkle is any indication, he has no problem whatsoever with me picturing him naked. Or getting more than a little wet for him.

I am in serious trouble here.

I glance around, wondering where Clive is. I don’t find him. But I do breathe in another whiff of weed and feel my head go a little woozy. As far as drugs, I’m a total lightweight. But tonight, I think that’s probably just fine.

Either that or I need to get the hell out of here before I make a complete fool of myself.

Holt takes a step closer, fully crossing the line into my personal space. “You haven’t explored the mansion yet, have you?”

I shake my head as I inch away, just to ensure that I can keep my wits. “I’ll do that now. Just wander a bit. See what I see.”

His fingertips lightly brush my collarbone. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Aria. Let me give you a personal tour.”

“Oh.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, then he says, “Why don’t we start here?”

He reaches for the door I’d already tried, but this time when he turns the handle, it unlocks. He glances up at me, then reveals the keycard nestled in his palm. “One of our higher-level rooms.”