“We have to talk, Bree.”

She glares up at me, her green eyes flashing. Her copper lips are pursed and she juts out her chin defiantly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. We really don’t.”

“We do. How could you not tell me you were Bree Bailey?” I hadn’t really meant to ask the question but it suddenly seems like the only one that matters.

But her eyes just darken. “You didn’t tell me you were Luke Whittaker,” she points out. “And besides, it was your bright idea not to talk about work. Remember that? No pointless small talk, I think you said? Well, a little pointless small talk would have saved us a lot of trouble, don’t you think?”

She’s not wrong, I’ll give her that. But I won’t give her the satisfaction of agreeing with her. I already find it hard to peel my eyes away from her face, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that either.

Instead I fold my arms across my chest.

“You need to drop out of the fundraiser.”

She laughs. A loud, barking, very unladylike laugh that drives me nuts at the same time that it sends a rush of blood down below my belt.

“And why do I need to drop out? If you feel so strongly about it, then you should drop out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Loft & Barn has been doing this fundraiser for years.”

“Then maybe its time for some new blood. Fresh perspective.”

“Please.” I scoff at the suggestion. “Fresh perspective? Bailey Living? Do those two things even belong in the same sentence?”

The look on her face instantly fills me with guilt, and I curse myself for going too far. But still — I’m pissed, and right now, anything that will mean I don’t have to spend the next six weeks glued to her side for this stupid fundraiser is worth it in my books.

But Bree just puts her hands on her hips. Her curvy wide hips, the same ones I slammed into, the ones I want to see bucking on top of me, the ones …

Fuck, man. Shake it off.

“What’s your Instagram name, Luke?” she asks, drawing me out of my reverie.

“My what?”

“Instagram. Are you on Snapchat?”

“Now you’re just making up words.”

She laughs again. “This is why Bailey Living is a better partner for this fundraiser. This is my world, Luke. I live in this world with Bounce, and I can do it here too. Maybe you better take a look in the mirror before you start accusing other people of being out of touch.”

God, she has a smart mouth. Why did I think she was so charming the other day? Must have been all the scotch, or the compounded stress of running the business on my own. Maybe I was suffering from some sort of temporary hallucination. That’s the only reasonable explanation.

Bree still seems to be waiting for an answer, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction, so instead I just roll my eyes and fold my arms, as if to say that this conversation exhausts me. Bree just laughs and hits the call button for the elevator.

She has her back to me now and I take one soft step towards her. I’m close enough to her now that I can smell her shampoo — it smells like honey, I think, or something equally sweet and homey. I breathe it in as quietly as I can, so she won’t think I’m some sort of weirdo hair sniffer.

The elevator doors chime open and she steps in. She holds her arm, stopping the door from closing, so that I can enter behind her. She doesn’t look back at me and I don’t know if she does it out of practiced politeness or because she wants to make sure I get in the elevator with her.

Once we’re inside, the doors seems to take an agonizingly long amount of time to close. Every inch is another heartbeat. I can hear Bree breathing next to me, and I can see the way her chest rises and falls under the silky pink top she’s wearing. I’d always heard redheads shouldn’t wear pink but everything about this girl seems to send traditional rules sailing out the window.

Finally, the elevator doors close and the car gives a soft lurch as it starts to move.

I’m on her in a second. I push her up against the mirrored wall and run my hands through her long hair, making that sweet honey smell waft up all around me. I breathe it in, as much of it as I can, and I press my lips against hers.

She seems startled for a second, and she brings her hands to my chest in surprise. I almost think she’s going to push me away, but then she gives in to what’s happening and kisses me back just as ferociously.

I fist my hand in her hair and pull her face closer to mine, devouring her mouth with mine, thrusting my tongue past her soft lips.

Her hands are roaming over my chest and my cock surges inside my jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life as much as I want her in this moment.

My right hand trails down the length of her body, while my other one stays twisted in her hair. I let my palm skim over her large soft breast, over her stomach, across those gorgeous hips.

She gasps, a puff of air against my lips, as I hike up her skirt. I slip my hand between her thighs and push aside the fabric of her panties. I’m desperate to feel her heat on my fingers again, to have just a taste of her sweetness.

My fingers find her slit, pushing through her lips to find her swollen nub. She’s soaked already, and my fingers slide through her silky heat like a knife through butter. I yank her head back so that she’s looking at me, and I watch her face as I find her entrance and push two fingers deep inside her.

Her lips part in surprise, but her eyes go almost foggy with lust and she bucks her hips against my hand. I grin as she whimpers, and then my grin widens when she grabs my wrist and pushes my hand closer to her. She’s almost riding my fingers now and I can feel her walls start to pulse around me.

I realize she might actually come like this and I glance at the elevator display. Just ten floors to go. Thank God this is the slowest elevator in the whole city of Chicago.

I thrust my hand into her harder and use my thumb to stroke her swollen clit. I press my lips to her exposed neck and let my tongue trail along the length of her creamy white throat. She whimpers and the vibrations in her throat against my lips make my balls churn.

“Luke,” she breathes, and I think she’s actually about to say something, but then it’s nothing but mewling noises as her pussy spasms around my fingers. Her whole body starts to sag and I hold her up, supporting her between my body and the mirrored wall of the elevator as the climax overtakes her.

The doors of the elevator chime and I have just enough time to pull my hand away before they open completely. Bree pushes her skirt down frantically. People are already streaming into the elevator, barely giving us time to exit.

As soon as we’re out, Bree grabs my arm.

“That can’t happen again,” she breathes. Her cheeks are still flushed and the pink spreads all the way down her neck and into her cleavage. She catches my eyes wandering. “Hey! Luke. I mean it.”

“I know.” She’s right too. I have too much going on right now, and Trent’s trust is too important to me. If he knew I was having relations, carnal or otherwise, with the head of our biggest competition, he’d lose his shit. And he’d be well within his right to do so. It’s not professional, and with our company going public in the next few months, it could be downright disastrous.

“So we keep this professional?” Bree says. Her expression is tentative.

I force myself to smile, and then I even hold out my hand for her to shake. “Professional.”

She clasps my hand but her lips part as our fingers touch. The urge to pull her to me and kiss her again is nearly overwhelming, but a gentleman’s agreement means everything. This will be a professional-only relationship from here on out.

Our hands linger, but then finally she slips her fingers from my grasp.

“I’ll see you around, Luke,” she says. There’s a trace of wistfulness in her voice.

“Sure.”

I watch as she walks away, her hips swaying in the white skirt she’s wearing. I can barely take my eyes away from her ass.

“Bree!” I call out, just before she pulls open the door to step out into the street.

She pauses and turns.

“I’m sorry about your father,” I say. “He was a really good man. I had a lot of respect for him.”

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and the wistfulness is back.

“Thanks Luke,” she says finally. And then she disappears through the doors, lost in the downtown Chicago crowds.