But now she’s fresh-faced and glowing, my clothes draped over her curves, her dark hair spilling across her shoulders, begging to be touched. And coffee? That’s one step closer to dessert, which, as far as I’m concerned, is one step closer to sex, which is almost certainly a terrible idea.
Almost…
Certainly…
Ellie closes her eyes and takes the first sip, letting out a moan that goes straight to my dick.
Fuck me.
“Oh, Jack. Where have youbeenall my life?” She moans again, showing absolutely no consideration for what she’s doing to me. “I had no idea you could make coffee like this.”
“One of my two talents,” I say.
Ellie raises a brow. “What’s the other one?”
Tearing off those shorts and burying my face between your thighs until you forget what fucking planet you’re on…
I hold her gaze a moment longer, lost in the dangerous dream of what it might feel like to go down on her, to hear her scream my name, to feel her hands rake through my hair as she pulls me closer…
“Fine, don’t tell me.” Her playful laughter drags me back to the moment.
“Actually, there isn’t another one.” I step to the side, putting some much-needed distance between us, hoping she doesn’t notice the bulge in my pants. Unlike Ellie, I’m still wearing my all-too-confining work clothes, and my cock is hating me for it. “I’m really only good at the coffee. Probably why I’m still single.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” She smiles again.
Forget that million-dollar view. I could stand here and watch this woman wear my clothes and drink my coffee and laugh at my dumb jokes forever.
And if it weren’t for her brother, and the necessary boundaries of professionalism, and the fact that I have to interact with her daily without dragging her into the closest break room and devouring her lush mouth, I’d probably tell her as much.
Alas…
“That script should be done parsing the personnel data in about half an hour,” I say instead, smooth talker that I am. “Then we can print the files, go through everything with a fine-toothed comb, and see where we’re at.”
“Really?” Ellie lights up, but then shakes her head, a frown pulling at her perfect, pink lips. “You don’t have to do that, Jack. I can take the files home. There’s a reason they call it investigative journalism. We investigate. All part of the gig.”
“I have a stake in this, too, remember? Besides—I know my employees. This will go a lot faster if you ask me questions as they arise.”
“Well, thank you. I appreciate the help. And access to the files. And the dinner and coffee.” She downs the last of it then heads into the kitchen with her mug. “And basically everything you’re doing for me, when allI’mdoing is making your job harder.”
You’re makingsomethingharder, all right…
“Every business has growing pains.” I follow her into the kitchen and drop our mugs into the dishwasher. “I’m grateful you’re here to help us through ours. You were right during your fake interview—S and H needs you.”
This gets another smile. “You sure I’m not bringing down the property value around there? I know I talk a good game, but I’m not exactly the Wolf of Wall Street.”
“Come on. A little more training, some on-the-job experience, your real identity… You’d be unstoppable. I meant what I said—there’s a place for you at Seyfried and Holt if you ever want to change tracks.”
She lifts a wry brow. “Something tells me that partner of yours would disagree.”
“Not if he saw you in action.”
“He can’t, though. That’s the thing.” She blows out a breath and leans back against the kitchen counter, glancing toward the big windows in the living room. The jazz playlist that entertained us through dinner finally wraps up, and in the silence that follows, the mood feels suddenly heavy.
“I talked to Ryan last night,” she continues. “I gave him an update on my story, but I left out so many details. Major ones.” Her eyes flick to mine for a second, heat gathering between us. “I hate lying to him.”
Guilt simmers in my gut, and I fight the urge to take her face into my hands. To kiss her. To give her an entire red-hot night of details we’ll never be able to tell her brother about.
On the verge of making a move I can’t take back, I busy myself with the dishwasher. “It won’t be much longer. Soon you’ll be able to show him your findings and tell him the whole sordid, fake-mustached tale. He’ll have no choice but to bow down to your superior sleuthing skills.”