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What You Need(19)

By:Lorelei James


The way he was looking at me—not like a CFO passing the time with a secretarial worker, but a man wanting to spend time with a woman he was attracted to—utterly addled my brain.

Jenna hustled into the room. “There you are,” she said in an exasperated tone.

Feeling guilty, I immediately dropped his hand and spun around to face her.

But she wasn’t talking to me. “You cannot hide in here.” She handed Mr. Lund a file folder. “They’re waiting for you in Mr. Nolan’s office. He told me to make sure you brought that.”

His mouth flattened into a grim line. Then he looked up at me. The frown bloomed into a charmingly sheepish smile.

My belly jumped.

“Thanks for the enlightening conversation, Lennox. I hope we can do it again sometime”—he shot Jenna a dark look—“without interruptions.”

“Me too, Mr. Lund.” One hank of his dark hair fell over his eye as he studied the paperwork in the folder, and I had the urge to smooth the hair back into place. After he disappeared through the door, I glanced up and realized I’d just been ogling Jenna’s boss—right in front of her.

She didn’t wear a look of censure, just a knowing smirk. “Yes, he always looks that good. It’s annoying really. Just once I’d like for him to show up at work in stained sweatpants with his hair uncombed and facial scruff.”

“Even then I bet he’d look amazing.”

Jenna chuckled. “Good point. Luckily, Mr. Lund is somewhat . . . unaware of his attributes. That makes him a little more human.”

“After talking to him a few times, I see that he isn’t nearly the big bad I thought he was.” At least not in the same way I had before.

“Big bad. You kids and your weird phrases. I never understand half of them.” She pointed to the stacks of paper. “Let’s wrap this up so you can finish the day in your own department. I’m sure you’ve got big plans for the weekend.”

“Not really.”

Jenna studied me. “Seriously? You’re—what, twenty-five?”

“Twenty-eight, actually.”

“I’m just surprised you won’t be out hitting the clubs and partaking of the Twin Cities nightlife.”

“I lived it up plenty in my misspent youth,” I admitted. “My idea of a perfect weekend is staying in.”

“You sound just like him.”

I didn’t have to ask who “him” was, but it intrigued me that the CFO of one of the Twin Cities’ richest families wasn’t out at charity events every weekend. I imagined him soaking in a bubble bath, a lowball glass of Scotch in his hand. Then, when he unfolded himself from the deep water—because I knew he wasn’t the type who could sit idle for very long—the bubbles slipped down his gleaming naked torso, revealing—

“Lennox?” Jenna prompted. “Are you okay?”

Not really. Just ignore me while I have explicit sexual fantasies about your boss. “Yes, you just got me to thinking about the weekend.”

“Well, whatever put that dreamy look on your face, I hope it figures into your plans.”

Not in a million years. But I smiled and said, “One can hope.”





Chapter Five




Brady




“I look like I’m trying too hard to be cool and hip,” I complained to Nolan Friday night as I entered my living room, wearing dark jeans and a black shirt with the cuffs rolled back. I wasn’t ready to go with the unshaven look—I’d scraped the scuff off my face after work—but following my shower I went with the current “I don’t give a damn about my hair” trend and did nothing, letting it dry naturally.

Nolan gave me a head-to-loafer inspection. “Damn, cuz. You are one ugly fucker. You’ll probably sit in the corner as me ’n’ Walker and Ash score.”

“Asshole. Who’s driving?”

“Car service.”

“Smart.” Tempting to ask where we were going, but I decided to just go with it, since I was basically being railroaded into this night out. “You want something to drink before we leave?”

“Whatcha got that’s new?”

“A small-batch whiskey distilled in Wisconsin.”

“I’ll take that.” Nolan parked on one of the barstools as I ducked behind the bar.

I snagged two lowball glasses and filled them halfway with ice. Then I pulled out the small bottle and poured three fingers in each glass. We touched glasses without an official toast and drank.

After Nolan drank, he picked up the bottle. “Pretty good stuff. Where’d you hear about it?”

“I’ve got a buddy who’s a pharmaceutical rep and it’s his mission in life to find the best handcrafted small-batch whiskies. His wife isn’t a drinker, so he brings me a bottle and we can discuss all the geeky stuff about notes and hints and aftertaste that few people care about.”