She was staring at him as though he’d grown another head but she didn’t say anything.
“Okay.” He blew out a breath. “You think about that for a little while.”
He headed for the small kitchen area, reached for the coffeepot. Before he could get his hand on it, there was a firm grip on his other arm and the tug had him pivoting.
Baz didn’t have time to say a word when JJ kissed him.
All thoughts about taking things slow went right out the window when her soft, cool hands cupped his face.
Instinct and overwhelming need had him plastering her to the wall, his mouth pressing more firmly to hers while JJ’s fingers slid around his neck, twined in the hair at his nape. His hands went to her hips, sliding upward, nudging her T-shirt high enough so he could feel smooth, warm skin.
Her soft moans nearly undid him, and they were a vivid reminder that they were in the office, not somewhere private.
“I like you, too,” JJ said on a rush of air when their lips separated. “And I don’t give a shit about slow.”
Yes, she did. He already knew that about her.
Baz met those beautiful green eyes, saw more emotion than he expected.
“Don’t hurt me, Baz,” she whispered.
“It’ll never be my intention,” he promised, knowing full well no one could guarantee it wouldn’t happen.
He cupped her face, pressed his lips to hers once more, slowly, lingering for a few seconds before pulling back and stepping away from the temptation that was Jessica James.Chapter TenBrantley had never been inside Alluring Indulgence Resort, never had the desire to, really. It was a place the locals talked about in hushed tones and out-of-towners came to visit with enthusiasm. For Brantley, it was the extremely lucrative business his cousin Travis owned and operated. Several of Travis’s brothers managed bits and pieces, some of their wives in on the action as well. What they did inside these walls, he didn’t really care. Provided it didn’t impede on his well-being, Brantley made a point not to pass judgment.
The instant he stepped through the doors, there was no doubt in his mind what went on here.
Sure, it looked like any other five-star or multi-diamond—whatever the scale—hotel with its grand ceilings, uber-expensive floor coverings, crystal chandeliers, and well-dressed employees. The space was wide open, a mountain-high wall of crystal-clear windows allowing the brilliant Texas sun to flow in as though breathing life into the building.
But it wasn’t the fancy decor that gave off the sensual vibe. That seemed to be something ingrained into the very essence of the building. Everything was sleek and smooth. Sexy, if you would. Even the music that softly played from somewhere up above.
“Mr. Walker, Mr. Walker will see you now,” the woman who had greeted him upon his arrival said.
He stared at her, wondering if she realized how ridiculous that sounded.
She didn’t show any signs of it being awkward. “If you’ll follow me.”
Brantley did as he was told, taking stock of his surroundings as he walked. Rather than go down the grand, curving staircase, they circled around to a hallway. At that point, the grandeur diminished, replaced by what one would expect to see in an office building. A high-end office, maybe, but an office, nonetheless. The walls were a softly muted gray tone, the tile on the floors white with gray veins running through them, a few random paintings decorating the walls, upgraded light fixtures above. No halogen or ceiling tiles in this place, no, sir.
There were white wood doors everywhere, most of them closed, a few open with people working inside. No one he recognized but why would he?
The woman stopped, motioned for him to go through one of those open doors.
Brantley held back the I’m impressed whistle when he stepped into the masculine space that was Travis Walker’s office. It reminded him of the conversation areas in the main part of the hotel with the sleek, modern elements. If someone would’ve asked him who this office belonged to, Travis would’ve been the last name on his list.
“You made it,” Travis said, looking up from his computer. “Shut the door, would you?”
There was an edge to Travis’s voice, one he’d gotten used to hearing in the voicemails he’d been leaving as of late. As though with every passing day, Travis’s rubber band was stretching, growing tauter and thinner by the second.
He closed the door, then stepped deeper into the space, watching Travis closely.
“I thought Gage worked with you,” he said simply to make conversation.
“He does.” Travis waved a hand. “Off doin’ somethin’ else. Have a seat.”
With the only other option standing, Brantley took a load off, planting himself in the comfortable leather bucket chair across from Travis, waiting for his cousin to finish typing. A few minutes passed and then Travis closed his laptop, took a deep breath, and became the cool, calm man Brantley knew him to be.
