And just as my brother had awkwardly suspected, my life failed miserably in that department.
Sitting down, my cell buzzed, and I retrieved it from my handbag.
Oh, for fuck’s sake...
Roman.
He sent a message, and the contents weren’t what I wanted to read, especially after the run-in.
It was a save-the-date card for the wedding, and when I read the date, my eyes bulged.
“You’ve got to be kidding. That miserable sack of... really?”
My birthday.
He and Rebekah-Big-Boobs considerately decided to hold their wedding on my birthday. Out of three hundred and sixty-five days in a year, they pick my damn day!
“Ughh,” I heaved in exasperation. No wonder he didn’t tell me the date to my face earlier. He knew I’d have kneed him in his balls.
My cell once again buzzed.
Fuckwit... again.
Re-entering the code, I read his new message.
Looking good, Brit.
Catch up soon.A bouquet of roses sat in the middle of my desk, and I didn’t have to read the card to know who they were from. He moved fast, wanting to impress and awe.
I wasn’t impressed and I wasn’t awed.
In typical Roman style, he still hadn’t changed his stripes. Rebekah was about to find out the hard way how little she could trust him.
Grunting in frustration, I pick up the flowers that graced my desk and sent them flying like angry, graceful balls of color across the room. They smash against the wall of perfectly aligned photo frames, exploding on impact, pink and red petals hurtling away from their once cozy bouquet.
“What in the name of...” a shocked voice startled me from behind.
Hawk.
He was my brother’s best friend and had been since junior high.
He was sex on legs. It was the only way to describe him.
A Greek Adonis who graced the earth with his glorious presence.
He oozed sex appeal.
And he was also off limits.
As well as being my brother’s best friend, he was also my damn boss.
And he was standing at the entry to my office trying too hard to fight the smirk forming on his lips.
Mmm... sex.
“Yes?” I snapped, disguising my lusty eyes.
At work, Hawk dressed in power suits, his broad shoulders strong and confident. Now, in jeans and a well-fitting black shirt, he still looked a mix of casual and sexy sophisticated. Basically, everything he wore complemented his looks and attitude. And each time I saw him, it was a delightful battle of the senses.
And then he opened his mouth.
He was curt, demanding, and sometimes he cut to the bone.
But no matter what he was saying, in whichever tone, Hawk could get me wet between the legs like no man ever could.
Call a retailer’s meeting. Wet.
Book the restaurant for eight. Wet.
Where’s my goddamn stapler? Wet.
You’re late, Britta. Wet.
“Meeting, Britta.”
Back to reality.
“Huh?”
“I did email you the reminder as you requested.” Hawk looked at his watch, and my legs squeezed tight. His gaze then moved to the flowers, and my own followed.
Anger returned.
“I was side-tracked.”
“So I can see,” he said, voice husky and ruthlessly delightful. He walked past and picked up the card, that like the petals, had found its wayward path after smashing against the wall. He straightened, tanned fingers tapping on the cardboard while he read.
I bit my bottom lip, hard. Those words weren’t meant for anyone else to read.
Especially Hawk.
He glanced at me, my stomach butterflying before rereading the evidence.
Finally, he turned, holding the offending item between us.
His face was stony, eyes deadly serious.
Sexy.
Scary.
“Tell your brothers, Britta.” He handed me the card, fingers grazing my skin before walking out the door, leaving me in a room of broken flowers and possibly a broken heart.
... Possibly.Chapter 2HawkThat skirt did wonders for her, fucking wonders.
All that was on my mind were those legs. Those irresistible fucking legs that were on display every day she wore a skirt. Every. Fucking. Day.
She smiled at me, the same way she did every day.
And I wanted to kiss those lips hard, the same way I fantasized every day.
Instead, just like every other day, I walked back into my office and slammed the door.
Slate was here, and I wasn’t surprised to see him. He usually came over once a week to see his sister. Out of all the Valentino siblings, those two were the closest.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Slate threw a rubber ball against the wall, caught it on rebound and threw it again. He appeared lost in his own head.
“Slate,” I barked at him. He startled, and the ball hit him in the chest before bouncing on the ground. “What do you need, brother?”
He shook his head, unperturbed by my business manners. “Do you think I should find someone for her? Like a date?” he asked, scratching his chin.
“Who?” I asked, feigning ignorance. I knew who he was talking about, but I played along with his game.
“Britta,” he said, retrieving the rubber ball and placing it where it belonged on my desk. “All she seems to do is work. She has zero social life.”