Caroline visibly shook herself and looked at her brother as if in a daze. “I thought this meeting was between us and Young Michael Douglas.” She winced. “Sorry. I meant Asher Laurie.”
Asher waved off her apology good-naturedly, obviously trying to get on her good side. “Don’t apologize. I could do worse.”
“I believe my sister just implied you’re approaching silver-fox territory.” Oliver stacked his hands behind his head. “Maybe this meeting isn’t as doomed as I thought.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Caroline said, finally appearing to recover from seeing Jonah in her place of work. She shot him a glance and licked her lips nervously. Jonah barely stifled a groan. As far as he was concerned, they might as well be the only two people in the room. Maybe it made him a bastard, but he was thoroughly enjoying her discomfort. Watching her shift around in her high heels, knowing the movement made her thighs rub together, was driving him crazy. At the same time, watching her reclaim the situation so speedily made his admiration grow. She was something, all right.
Asher cleared his throat. “Shall we get started?”
Jonah lifted an eyebrow at Caroline when he saw her internal debate written all over her face. Obviously, based on her brother’s attitude, she’d correctly deduced Jonah hadn’t spilled her secret. Still, she clearly wanted to question his presence but also must realize doing so might reveal that they knew each other. He wouldn’t let that happen, of course. It would do nothing to help either of his causes.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t let her think him capable of it.
In the end, she sat heavily in an armchair and nodded at Asher to proceed. Smart girl.
…
What in the holiest of hells is Jonah Briggs doing here? This man, the same one who made me explode with the assistance of a feather, is five feet away from my brother. It’s wrong on so many fucked-up levels that I don’t know where to start.
Even worse, when she’d first seen Jonah, in that split second before dread cold-cocked her in the jaw, her belly had flipped over like a Bisquick pancake. She’d experienced that shameful, now-familiar wave of awareness. The one that had risen inside her, instantaneous and powerful, every time she’d thought of him since Friday night. His fingers moving between her legs, their mouths moaning into each other’s. She’d completely lost sight of her convictions that night, and the near-constant craving for more was her sexually frustrated punishment. She’d been confident it would fade with enough time and distance, yet here he was, in her territory, staring at her as though he’d like nothing more than to drag her into the nearest supply closet and fuck her senseless.
Good God, when did you start thinking in such disgusting terminology?
Since she’d been blasted into another stratosphere by a man who preferred to be called Master and dropped the P-word with impunity. Not exactly her usual type.
Never in her wildest dreams—and she’d had some wild dreams over the last couple nights—did she imagine Jonah would show himself so soon.
Or at all. Sure, he’d made it clear he wanted more physical interaction with her, but didn’t men always say things they didn’t mean in the heat of the moment? Surely he didn’t actually intend to be her…master. Caroline ignored the deep fluttering she encountered at the thought of such determination to, essentially, own her. She certainly hadn’t expected him to pursue her. Why would he? She’d been emphatic about having zero interest in his world. A world that defined him. He owned the club and lived right above it, for chrissakes.
If he’s here, he knows you were at Serve for the article.
Caroline felt instantly stupid for having romanticized Jonah’s presence. Stupid, naive, and riddled with king-size nerves. What was his plan? Blackmail? Yes. What else could it be? This was why she’d wanted to go eat dumplings with Eliza on Friday night instead of sticking it out at Serve. Dumplings would have kept her out of this mess, seconds from being outed as a hypocrite in front of Oliver and his would-be associate.
Caroline tried to focus as Asher began his presentation, but she couldn’t help sneaking another glance at Jonah. Of course, he was watching her steadily from underneath the brim of his tweed newsboy cap, dark blond hair peeking out at his collar. His body was sprawled back in his chair in a deceptively casual pose, but she knew from recent experience it would go rigid with authority at a moment’s notice. The leather bomber jacket he wore looked so comfortable and lived in, she had the sudden urge to crawl inside it with him.
Oh, that’ll never do. He’s here to burn you, make you eat crow. As if sensing her thoughts, he quirked up a corner of his mouth. Caroline quickly looked away.