“You call your grandmother G-mom?”
“We’re pretty tight; she lets me get away with it. Anyway, ten percent of the shares are divided among the employees and the remaining fifty-five percent were divided between me and my brother equally. But there’s a caveat in the will that stipulates all blood offspring have equal shares in the company and that would include you. Which means a little more than eighteen percent of Moorehead Media is yours, if you want it.”CHAPTER 27MOOREHEAD LEGACY REVISEDWRENIt’s amazing how goals and dreams can change in the blink of an eye. Okay, maybe it takes more than a blink. Maybe the impetus for change starts out as a scowly, grumpy, burly mountain man who transforms into a chin-dimpled, equally grumpy but incredibly devoted, amazing CEO of a company that was on a crash-and-burn trajectory less than six months ago.
Said CEO currently has me pressed up against his office door, wearing my favorite angry scowl. As much as I’d like to suck on that pouty bottom lip, we have a lot to do today, including a meeting that starts in less than fifteen minutes.
“I thought we talked about the lipstick,” he growls.
If looks could kill, my lipstick would go up in flames. Also, it’s absolutely ridiculous that he’s referencing a conversation that happened months ago. I’ve never really understood why he hates it so much, other than he finds it distracting. “Correction.” I slide a hand up his chest. “You talked about it.”
“You agreed not to wear it anymore.”
I scoff. “Right before we were about to have sex. Everyone knows that doesn’t count.”
His brows pull together. God, he’s sexy when he’s pissed off. But we really don’t have time for an argument over my lipstick. In the months since discovering he has a half sister, Lincoln has fully embraced his role as CEO, and three months ago, he convinced Hope to come on board and help run the company with him. He also managed to persuade me to stay on as an independent consultant for their brand-new sustainable community outreach foundation. I still volunteer with my mother, but I’ve discovered a passion for this kind of work, where we get to help an entire community thrive. It’s been hectic and amazing and exhausting. But I’m in love with this job and this man, so I can deal with any and all the bumps along the road. Even the kind that come in a sexy, glaring package.
His nostrils flare, and he dips down, surprising me when he captures my mouth. He pushes his tongue between my lips, stroking aggressively in a punishing kiss. He cups my chin, fingertips digging gently into my jaw, keeping me in place.
His thigh finds its way between my knees, and he punctuates every stroke of his tongue with a roll of his hips. I grab his shoulders, intent on reminding him of our meeting that starts very soon, but he tears his mouth from mine.
His eyes flare. “Holy shit.”
I roll my eyes and smirk. I’m sure it looks maniacal, considering the mess he’s made. “Seems like you got yourself worked up about nothing.”
He rubs at his mouth with the back of his hand, and it comes away streaked with pinkish red. He releases my chin and pats his pockets, searching for a tissue. “Why didn’t you warn me?” he grumbles.
“Because I didn’t expect you to attack me with your mouth.”
“Lie. Why would you wear red lipstick if you weren’t trying to wind me up?” He abandons the mission to find a tissue and drops his mouth to mine again. I figure I can indulge him for a few more seconds before I push on his chest.
Which is the exact moment the door to his office opens. The knob hits my ass, and I stumble into Lincoln.
“Hey, are you—” Hope stops in the middle of the doorway, her expression shifting from confusion to annoyance. She plants a fist on her hip. “Seriously? You two live together! Can you not keep your mouths to yourselves for two hours? You look like a pair of demented clowns.”
“I thought it was the lipstick that didn’t come off.” Lincoln goes back to searching for a tissue.
“He just attacked me.” I manage to say it without laughing, which is pretty much a miracle.
Hope rolls her eyes. “Please. You could teach self-defense classes. That’s the worst excuse ever. We have a board meeting in ten minutes, and I’m a little freaked out over here because you’re leaving me in charge for two damn weeks. It’d be great if there was less pre-meeting making out and more sibling support happening here.” She makes a face. “Wait. That sounds incredibly wrong. Can you clean up your mess of a face and talk me off the ledge, please?”
Lincoln rounds his desk and finds a couple of wet wipes. He tosses one to me and tears the other one open. “I don’t understand what you’re so worried about. G-mom is going to be here, and you’ve got a handle on things.” He wipes his mouth and checks out the pink-streaked cloth. He looks to me. “Am I good yet?”