Page 15

“Make that two,” I said, my voice low, never breaking eye contact with her.

Her lips twitched into a smirk as she leaned against the bar, mirroring my stance. Confidence radiated off her, and for a moment, we stood there, sizing each other up like predators circling the same prey.

“I think I should be asking you that question,” I added, letting the words hang heavy between us.

Eleanor’s smirk deepened as her teeth caught her bottom lip, her eyes drifting over me with slow precision. The air between us crackled, charged with the memory of last night and the undeniable pull still thrumming between us.

We weren’t just looking at each other. We were devouring, like we’d both found the answer to the question: If you had one last meal, what would it be?

“I see you managed to cover your neck,” she teased, her smirk as sharp as a blade.

I leaned in closer, letting my voice drop low, a mix of seduction and challenge. “You know, I promised myself that if I ever saw you again, I’d return the favor. With interest.”

I dropped my gaze to the plunging neckline of her dress, lingering just long enough to make her blush deepen, spreading down her neck and into the curve of her chest. When I looked back up, her lips parted slightly, and I felt a surge of satisfaction at the effect I had on her.

She laughed then—a husky, throaty sound that sent a bolt of heat straight to my cock. It was reckless, stupid even, but in that moment, I’d have gladly dragged her into my office just to hear her moan my name. My real name.

“Oh, look!” Tawnie’s voice shattered the tension like a brick through glass. She stood beside us, smiling as if she hadn’t just ruined everything. I shot up straight, putting distance between Eleanor and myself, though my body still thrummed with energy.

“You two didn’t need me to introduce you,” Tawnie continued, oblivious.

I frowned and my brows pulled together. Eleanor’s face mirrored mine, her brows furrowed as she turned toward Tawnie.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Mr. Stone, this is Eleanor Stewartt, the new PR rep from BuzzBurst Media.”

The words hit like a sledgehammer. My head whipped toward Eleanor, catching the moment her jaw nearly hit the floor.

Her? She was the one here to fix the PR nightmare?

What the hell happened to Stan? Who’d signed off on this? My blood simmered, and the room felt ten degrees hotter, but not in the way Eleanor had managed just moments ago. No, this was pure, unfiltered rage.

Eleanor recovered faster than I did, her expression smoothing into something composed, professional even. But I knew better. That sharp gleam in her eyes told me she was just as furious about this as I was.

For her, it was a practiced front. For me? I didn’t give a damn about hiding my anger.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stone,” she said, her voice steady, polished, like nothing had happened. But the way she said my name—cool, deliberate—sent a jolt through me. Anger? Lust? Both? I couldn’t tell anymore.

And that was the problem.

She extended her hand, clearly waiting for me to shake it and complete the formalities. My lips pressed into a tight scowl as I took her hand, giving it a firm grip. The softness of her skin against mine sent an unwelcome flashback to last night—dancing to old country tunes in that dive bar, her laugh still echoing in my head.

“Likewise, Miss Stewartt,” I said, tone clipped, deliberately formal.

Her lips curled into a smug smirk, the gleam in her eyes radiating satisfaction. She knew exactly how much this moment was gnawing at me. The smugness was unbearable, and I felt the sharp tug of a challenge. No way was I letting her win without putting up a fight.

Still holding her hand, I brought it to my lips, brushing a deliberate kiss across her knuckles. My gaze locked onto hers, unyielding. Her breath hitched, her chest rising ever so slightly as the moment registered. From the outside, it probably looked like I was some charming gentleman, but she knew better. This was a calculated move.

Eleanor’s composure faltered just enough to satisfy me, her momentary stumble a small victory.

“So, I have you two scheduled first thing tomorrow morning,” Tawnie interrupted, her chipper voice pausing the tension. “But for tonight, enjoy yourselves. And Colton, remember to smile.”

Eleanor snorted, a sharp, uncontained sound that caught both of us off guard. She quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, but her shoulders shook with restrained laughter.

I growled low in my throat, turning on my heel before I said something I’d regret. Plunging into the crowd, I focused on the mind-numbing small talk I usually hated. Anything was better than standing there with Eleanor, knowing the next two months were going to be a living hell.

Chapter 7