Whose idea was it for me to take this assignment again? Surely not mine. I’m level-headed and practical. Placing myself on Kalista’s full-time detail would be counterproductive. I’m clearly attracted to her; it would be a conflict of interest.
These are all the things I should have pointed out to myself when I chose to ignore standard procedure and go with my gut by putting myself on Kalista’s case. I haven’t touched her since that first night. The last week has been hell on my balls. They’re the bluest they have ever been and it’s my own fault for thinking I could handle being around this intoxicating woman twenty-four hours a day.
Every now and again, I catch a sliver of vulnerability in her and it makes me want her even more. She works so hard to maintain her tough-as-nails exterior, but even she can’t pretend every second of the day.
So far, I have managed to keep my hands to myself just like I said I would, but she isn’t making it easy for me. I’d bet my left nut she’s been going out of her way to dress provocatively. And those pyjama’s she wears…I don’t think they’re meant to be sexy, but they are. Fuck, she could wear a potato sack and I’d still want her.
Each day is a social function of some description, there haven’t been any more letters or notes. But I know this isn’t over. I can feel it in my gut; her enemy is just regrouping. She’s not as exposed as she has been previously, and people have to go through me to make contact with her. They’re adjusting their tactics.
Zak tracked down the waiter kid from the luncheon where she received the last note. He’s squeaky clean. William Bradshaw is nineteen years old, with no current record. He’s the bastard son of the oil mogul, Neil Bradshaw, and he lives on his property but is not a recognised member of the family.
Clearly, he was just a delivery boy. He isn’t anyone of note, but his father certainly is. It’s possible he got mixed up with the wrong crowd, but my gut says there’s more to it. I’ve got Zak and Axel looking for anything on past dealing between the senator and Bradshaw.
It would make sense for Bradshaw to come after Astor if he stood in his way. That guy has rigs in more places than I can count, and I know he has to have paid his way for some of those locations.
I’m currently sitting at Kalista’s breakfast bar, salivating over her round arse as she makes herself an omelette, instead of finding out what is on the agenda for today. Every move she makes has her tiny bed shorts giving me little sneak peeks of her perfect cheeks. A boner at breakfast. Such a professional, Abe
When she’s finished, she plates her food and sits directly across from me on the opposite side of the counter, glaring at me watching her. And I just keep staring. Jesus Christ, I’m screwed.
Today, we’re going to brunch.
“What the hell is brunch anyway?” I ask while manoeuvring through the traffic on our way to meet the ladies. I get the impression Kalista doesn’t even like these women, but I don’t ask why we’re going.
She releases a gust of air from her mouth, blowing hair from her eyes. “It’s a light meal between breakfast and lunch, or in my case, it’s an excuse to have mimosas before noon.”
I choke on my laughter. “You need an excuse to drink before noon?”
With a roll of her eyes, she chuckles softly. “I’m sure you drink alcohol whenever you please, but some of us have reputations to think about and it’s simply not done in polite society.”
Frowning, I turn to look at her while paused at a stop light. “Are you saying I’m unrefined?” I accuse with a hand pressed to my chest in jest.
She bats her lashes at me and her words come out dripping with sarcasm. “You? Unrefined? Darling, no, of course not. You’re the embodiment of every pretentious prick I know.” Then she blinks at me, her face not budging from its serene I’m-a-polite-socialite-and-I’ll-insult-you-to-your-face-and-make-you-think-it’s-a-complement look of complete innocence.
How does she do that? I’m having a hard enough time not bursting out laughing, so how is she sitting there with a straight face? Returning my focus to the road ahead, I smirk. She certainly is something else. And I’m really digging it.
Sliding the Mustang into the first available parking spot with ease then shutting off the engine, I shift my torso so I’m facing her. I maintain a passive expression for as long as I possibly can, but then the corner of her mouth twitches. And I lose it. I laugh so hard I feel wetness on my cheeks and my stomach is cramping. “Your face,” I pant. “How do you do that?”
Eventually, she joins me. The sound of her amusement is like music to my ears. I want to make her laugh like this every damn day. The normally stiff set of her shoulders has relaxed and she looks beautiful. She tips her chin to her shoulder in a coy shrug. “It’s a gift,” she murmurs and before I know what I’m doing, my fingers are tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck and I’m pulling her towards me.
She doesn’t stop me. I lean forward and close the space, covering her mouth with my own. Sliding my tongue between her waiting lips, tracing the sharp edge of her teeth before deepening the kiss. I massaging her tongue with soft slow strokes and flicks.
Kalista gasps and digs her nails into my thigh. “What took you so long?” she breathes between kissing me back and running her fingers over my stubble-covered jaw.
“I’m trying to keep things professional, but fuck me, it’s hard,” I groan as her hand slides farther up my thigh, coming to rest over my growing cock. Just saying the word professional has me placing my free hand over hers, stopping her from stroking me through my black suit pants. “We can’t, sweetness. Fuck, I want it, but we can’t.”
“Ugh,” she growls. “I know, I do, okay.” She sighs heavily. “I get it, but you have to stop looking at me the way you do. It’s distracting and frankly, I’ve already had to replace the batteries in my vibrator this week. At this rate, I’ll need to buy shares in Duracell.” She grins against my lips, she has to know what her words are doing to me. Then she sits back in her seat, flips down the visor and the mirror within, and fixes her hair and reapplies her lip gloss.
My chest deflates even though I know in my head that we weren’t about to rip each other’s clothes off. My cock is not on board with that and he’s currently protesting by refusing to go down. “Fuckin’ ‘ey’” I mutter, staring down at my dick, attempting to force its deflation with my glare.
“What’s wro—” Kalista starts to ask but then she sees what I’m dealing with and snorts. “I’d offer to give you a hand, but I’m not allowed.” She shrugs. “Sorry.”
My glare shifts to her. “You’re not sorry, you little minx.”
Her baby blues come alive with mirth. “No, I’m really not.”
I make her wait in the car with me as I regale her with stories of dressing my youngest brother up as a girl when we were younger and making him ride to the shops to get me candy and other amusing antidotes, until my cock finally takes the hint and returns to sulking with my blue balls.
Riding up the elevator to the restaurant, I catch her checking the time on her watch repeatedly.
“Chill out. We’re exactly two minutes late. It’s okay.”
She shoots me a look that says this is anything but okay and returns her gaze to her watch face.
Wrapping my hand around her wrist over the top of her watch so she can’t see it, I tell her again, “It’s okay.”
This time, there is only a small flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers and when the elevator doors slide open she steps around me and strides right past the waiting hostess, finding the ladies table within seconds and taking her seat.
I follow at a distance, not wanting to cramp her style. Finding a small open table with a clear view right to her, I plant myself in the chair facing her. Every few minutes I give the room a discreet onceover, checking for anything and anyone out of the ordinary, but everything is as it should be.
When the waitress approaches I order a mimosa, feeling a little rebellious after making out with Kalista in the car. One half-arsed drink isn’t going to affect me in the slightest.
Ten minutes later, and I’ve finished my second mimosa. Don’t judge—they tasted better than I anticipated. Kalista stands from the table and blows kisses to the ladies, then picks up her handbag and strides towards me. When she’s a few feet away I tilt my head to the side, silently questioning her.
She shakes her head then turns for the exit, and I fall in line behind her.
Once we’re alone in the elevator, I ask, “What’s up?”
Again, she shakes her head. “Nothing. I had enough of listening to their mediocre bullshit,” she scoffs. “They think they have problems? Please! I have a goddamn stalker threatening my life and you don’t hear me bitching about it at brunch.”
I smirk then lick my lips. She’s funny, and she doesn’t even realise it.
She shoots me a pissed off look. “What?”
A gruff laugh rises from my chest. “You have balls of steel, my girl. How do you do it?”
Her forehead wrinkles in a frown. “Do what?”
I lift my chin towards the metal doors. “This. Your luncheons, fundraisers and brunches—how do you do it with everything you have going on behind the scenes?”
The wrinkles on her forehead smooth away and she runs a hand over her wide-legged tailored pants. “I just do. It’s not a choice. It has to be done so I get on with it, and get it over with.”
This woman, she mystifies me. One minute she’s a straight shooter, no nonsense, no-drama attitude, but when we’re at her place, she can be as vulnerable as the rest of us.
When the elevator pings and announces we have arrived at level one of the basement we step out, side by side. She glances at me from the corner of her eye before sighing and digging her keys from her handbag, throwing them to me.
My face hurts, I smile that wide. “I love driving your car, Lissa.”
She snorts. “So do I. That’s why I bought it.”
I pause by the driver’s door. “Do you, want to drive?”
Her baby blues light up. “Yes, of course I want to drive,” she says, changing her direction and coming for the driver’s side instead of the passenger’s.
Until I mock frown at her. “Aw, that’s too bad. I really would like to see you behind the wheel of this baby, but today is not that day,” I say, then open the door and slide right in.
She gives me the death glare before stomping back around to her side of the vehicle, reefing the door open then slamming it shut once she’s inside. She buckles up then huffs as she crosses her legs and stares out the window.
“That was for your fake offer to give me a hand earlier,” I tell her, then start up the Mustang and pull out of the parking spot. “Where to, boss?” I ask, trying to keep the grin out of my tone but it’s there.
“My father’s offices,” she says, then continues to ignore me for the remainder of the drive.
Admittedly, I deserve that. But she’s just so easy to rile. I can’t help it. Besides, irritating her keeps me from trying to seduce her, and as a plus, it got her mind off the brunch bitches.
At the Senator’s offices, I keep pace with her as she enters the foyer of the main building. “You’re walking like a woman on a mission,” I muse.
Her eyes flick to me momentarily. “I hate this place. Get in, get out. That is the goal here.”
I nod absently and continue to walk at her side until we reach his office door.
“You can wait out here. I assure you I’m in no danger in there,” she says, throwing her thumb over her shoulder and indicating his domain.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” I mutter, more to myself than to her but she hears me, giving me a small shrug before entering his office.