Page 22 of Never To Be Mine

“Is he officially a partner?” she asked.

“According to my father, he is. I get to be his handler.”

“Girl, sign me up. I’ll handle him any day of the week.”

I gave her a look. “Kari, that is so unprofessional.”

She laughed. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice. That man is a universal hottie.”

After she left, I buried my face in my hands. How in the hell was I supposed to work with him?

8

HOLLIS

Istood on my deck, beer number three in hand, watching the Pacific stretch out endlessly under the fading sunset. The waves rolled in with their usual rhythm, but they weren’t doing their job tonight.

Usually, it was peaceful. Calming. It settled my soul. Not tonight. My mind was still back in that office.

Fuck, she’d been something today. Sitting behind that desk like she owned the world, hair down instead of pinned back, those blue eyes sharp and assessing me. The navy dress had hugged her curves in ways that made my dick hard just thinking about it.

Yesterday, she’d looked a little green. Today, she looked like she was ready for the runway.

I’d managed to keep from hitting on her. Mostly. Played it professional, kept my focus on the business. But every time she’d looked up at me, my train of thought almost derailed.

I took another pull from the bottle, letting the cold liquid slide down my throat. The beer wasn’t helping. Neither was the view. My brain kept circling back to her. Those lips. Her curves.

But she hated me. That much was clear. Her defensive posture screamed that she wanted nothing to do with me beyond what her father had forced on her. And this deal was important to me.

A million orders. That was all that stood between me and legitimacy. People assumed I got everything handed to me on a silver platter, and yes, I had been born with advantages others didn’t have. But my business had been all my hard work, specifically because I wanted to make it successful on my own.

I couldn’t fuck this up by thinking with my dick.

The smart play would be to go out. Hit one of the bars in Santa Monica. Find some woman who’d be interested in helping me burn off this tension. No strings, no complications, just a pleasant distraction that would reset my brain.

The thought didn’t even make my dick flinch. Zero interest.

I didn’t want some random woman.

“Nope.” I said it out loud, like that would make it more effective. “Not going there.”

But my brain wasn’t listening. It kept replaying moments from today. Flashes of captured images. That moment at the end when I’d left the smoothie on her desk and she’d blushed.

That had my cock twitching.

Fuck this. I needed to burn off this restless energy inside me. My house was large, especially for just one guy, but it felt too small suddenly. Too quiet.

I grabbed my phone, put in my ear buds, and headed down to the beach. The air had that salt-and-seaweed smell that usually centered me. I started jogging, letting my muscles warm up, finding a rhythm.

There were the usual beachgoers taking advantage of the beautiful weather and gorgeous sunset. The waves crashed beside me.

I pushed harder and faster after getting warmed up, trying to outrun temptation.

She was infuriating. Stubborn. So convinced she was right about everything that she couldn’t see past her own biases. She’d made up her mind about me before we’d even had a real conversation.

She was also brilliant. Passionate. Completely unimpressed by my name or my face or anything else that usually made people give me the benefit of the doubt. She challenged me.

And that dress. God, that dress.