Chapter 6: Brooks
Fuck-fuck-FUCK. She’s here. How is she here?! This cannot be fucking happening. Olive Donovan isn’t just my afternoon appointment. She’s the woman I stripped for and kissed against a hotel wall last night.
I was already trying to figure out how to get Sheldon to break hotel confidentiality and give me the registration info for the party. I’d even contemplated how hard it would be to break into his office and look it up as a last resort. I guess I don’t have to bother now because she’s not only a local, she’s my god damn client.
I’ve never crossed the line with a client before, but here we are. Client or not, I know I’m going to cross that line again. Maybe I should be worried about my company or my reputation, but as soon as I left the hotel room last night I regretted leaving her behind.
Olive looks just as shocked to see me as I am to see her. Her mouth is hanging open, her eyes round as she stares at me as if she's afraid I'll do another striptease.
She’s wearing a clean, white chef coat over tight black pants. Gone are the sky-high heels, tight blue dress, and smokey eye makeup. She is fresh-faced, her long hair tied back in a ponytail, and somehow she’s even sexier like this. I’d like to take her ponytail and wrap it around my fist while she… I’m going to halt that train of thought before it can leave the station.
Della’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between us, confused, and the girl behind her is cackling. I can only assume that Olive told her what happened last night.
I’m fighting back the urge to kiss her again. Hauling her into the nearest closet to see if she tastes as good as I remember sounds like a great idea right now. If I could just get her somewhere private… Jesus, I need to get control of myself. Somehow I keep a straight face as I hold my hand out to Olive, introducing myself as professionally as possible. I don’t know how to fix this but maybe I can salvage something from this mess.
Olive Donovan seems less than happy to see me. She stares at my outstretched hand like it might bite her. She finally reaches out and shakes my hand quickly before trying to pull free. I grip her small, warm hand and I hold my breath for a second, trying to quell the excitement coursing through my body.
“It’s really nice to meet you,” I say.
Her green eyes flash at mine with heat and anger. Her pretty mouth tightening into a scowl. “Oh, yeah. Super nice to meet you,” her voice dripping with sarcasm. Well, crap. She’s pissed, and even her anger is charming. I bite back a smile that will probably just piss her off more.
While I refuse to give Olive back her hand, Della recovers her composure and springs into action, grabbing the giggling woman by the elbow and leading her away. “Lilah, why don’t you show me the kitchen.”
As soon as they’re out of earshot Olive hisses, “What the hell are you doing here?”
She doesn't pull her hand back again. In fact, she squeezes mine harder as if she’s trying to be threatening. I try to contain my smirk but don't do it very well. “I told you I was a contractor, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that,” she hisses. “Did you know who I was last night? Because this is fucking embarrassing.” Using the hand I’m still gripping, I pull her closer. I want to hold her curvy little body tight against mine, but this probably isn’t the place.
“How would I have known who you are? And why are you embarrassed? It’s not like you did anything.” Her gaze softens and zeroes in on my mouth while I’m talking. I’d bet anything she’s remembering exactly what she did. Taunting me to kiss her and the way she kissed me back. Melted for me, rubbing that sexy body up against mine.
The sight of her little pink tongue wetting her lips sets my body to aching, and it’s everything I can do to contain the groan wanting to escape my chest. Trying, and failing, to muster a scrap of self-control, I step closer, letting the scent of her vanilla and sugar skin wash over me.
“I'm the one who should be embarrassed. I figured you were from out of town and it wouldn't matter if I made an ass of myself. I didn’t know you were a client. If I had known, I never would have laid a finger on you.”
The soft look vanishes, and she yanks her hand out of mine. “Jesus, you really know how to make a girl feel special.” Her eyes turn hard, and I realize too late that I’ve insulted her. Possibly hurt her. “Let’s just focus on what we have to do here, ok?”
“Olive, wait--”
“ I hope you’re a better contractor than you are a stripper,” she says.
I narrow my eyes at her. “It was a mistake, but I’ll remind you that you did ask me to kiss you. Practically dared me.”
Her face colors. “Wow. It's fine. It never happened. Napa might not be Vegas, but last night can sure as fuck stay there.” She turns on her heel and strides back to the kitchen. “Let's go, Mr. Davidson.”