"I thought I was your work," Fenton said.
"I'm not that kind of girl," I told him. "Whatever happened last night, you can rest assured our relationship will be nothing but professional from here on out. I have a reputation for integrity, no tricks or dirty deals. I hope you, sir, can say the same."
Fenton ran a hand through his black hair and frowned. "I fight clean. One of the reasons I stay away from endorsements. What I do, I do for myself and my reputation. So tell me, Ms. Allen, what do you honestly think I tricked you into coming here?"
I clutched the black dress to my chest and straightened my shoulders. "No."
"And, did I force you to drink champagne into the wee hours of the morning?"
"No."
"Then, come back to bed," Fenton said. "There's nothing wrong with admitting we're attracted to each other."
I ducked behind the open door and quickly yanked on my dress. "Whether or not I find you attractive is not the point. I make it a professional point not to get involved romantically with my clients. It sets the wrong tone for our business dealings."
Fenton chuckled and hitched himself back on the bed to lean against the long headboard. "Yes, please, save us from setting the wrong tone. I much prefer my business dealings to be uptight and nervous."
I zipped up my dress and bumped the bedroom door open again. "I am not nervous. My behavior last night was inexcusable and I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I don't sleep with clients."
"That's too bad. I was in the market for new vitamin supplements," Fenton said.
My cheeks burned, but this time it was not desire. "I probably drank too much champagne so I could put up with your rudeness."
His hearty laughed shook the whole bed. "Oh, keep your panties on, Ms. Allen. Remember, you're trying to set a business tone here. By the way, your little lace slip is over there on the mirror. I like it. What's the word? Demure. Like another layer of sexy."
I stomped over to the mirror and brandished my one red heel at him. "I don't know what kind of women you are used to, Mr. Morris, but where I come from, women wear more than scraps underneath their dresses."
"You're right. You will take a little getting used to," Fenton said. "How about we start with breakfast? You could order room service. Business breakfast? Has a nice tone to it."
I wriggled into the lace slip, too angry to care that his laser blue eyes watched every inch as I pulled it up. I tugged my black dress into place and ignored the molten feeling his look caused. Fenton was offering me a chance to pitch him the endorsement deal, something I was sure I had lost just minutes before. The only probl
em was my body betrayed me. The hangover was gone, but the desire was not. I wanted to kiss that smirk right off Fenton Morris' face.
"Like I said, I have to go. How about we plan on lunch?" The dignity of my offer disappeared as a casino coin dislodged from my bra and dropped to the floor.
His hand snaked out and caught my wrist. As he reeled me into the wide bed, I wondered if he could read my thoughts. The kiss was searing hot, his lips hungry. I was off balance and had two choices – tumble into his arms or straddle his lap. I threw a leg over, hoping to level the playing field.
Fenton rubbed his hands around my waist and down the curve of my back, pressing me down onto him. I gasped when the thin sheet did nothing to block his obvious arousal. I pushed up on my knees, unlocking our lips and accidentally bringing my breasts to his mouth. He growled, the guttural friction of the sound making my nipples tingle.
"Sorry," he said, releasing me. "I just wanted... Never mind, bad timing."
I sat back on his thighs, unable to break from the magnetic pull of our bodies. "I didn't mean to lead you on," I said. "I don't do that."
In the other room, my phone rang again. I hesitated, not sure of the shattered look in Fenton's blue eyes.
"Go ahead and talk to your boss. And, by the way, Ms. Allen, I do not take advantage of drunk women."
"You mean, we didn't sleep together last night?" I asked, halfway across the room.
"We slept, but that was it. For now," Fenton said.
Chapter Four
Fenton
I imagined the punching bag was Mario Peretti. He was razor thin and fast. I would clip him and then come back around to finish him off. He would never see the combination coming. I concentrated on the new moves, but kept missing the hard hits. Even a quarter of an inch off was too much for me. I ground my teeth and tried again.
It was her taste on my lips that threw off the punches. I had only meant to tease her, shut up her nervous chatter. Instead, when I grabbed Kya and kissed her, it hit me harder than a TKO. I had expected shocked and pliable, but she was stronger than she looked. Kya kissed back.