Sweet Rivalry (1001 Dark Nights)(8)
I full-on stare at her to question if I heard her correctly, but her face is the picture of innocence. All but the tiny little quirk of the corner of her mouth that tells me I heard her right, and that she’s fighting like hell not to smile.
I’ve got to give it to her. The woman’s got chops.
“Dirty, huh?” I can’t resist. Challenge accepted. The murmur is off my lips without thought, my body already wanting to find out just how dirty.
She clears her throat and gives up the fight, letting her lips spread into a slow, knowing smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know…” she says with a glance my way, eyes lit and eyebrows raised before she walks away without another word. Well, unless you count something she mutters that sounds a lot like f*cking beard burn while leaving me the very fine visual of her hips swaying in her gray pencil skirt and pink heels as her way of driving the suggestion home.
And there is no driving it home needed. Her point was made loud and clear, and with a f*ckton of room left there for my imagination to improvise. Like how I’m reliving my grad school fantasies of taking the shy girl with the mesmerizing eyes and intimidating intellect on the desk in the empty classroom, and at the same time dreading the fact she’s been invited to bid.
And round one goes to Harper.
Damn. She always did have a way of boiling my blood and getting me hard all at the same time. Seems like she’s perfected that skill of hers over the years.
I’m not sure if I should be happy about that or fearful. Fuck if I don’t love a strong, confident, intelligent woman. The feistier the better. Talk about sexy as hell. But when it comes to that self-assured woman being Harper, it means this bid isn’t going to be as in the bag as I thought it was going to be an hour ago.
Good thing I like to be challenged.
I lift my bottle of water to my lips and wish it were a beer. I think I might need it or something stronger. Can this situation get any more f*cked up?
Only if I were to sleep with her.
And with another look over to her, I hate myself for wanting to but can’t blame myself all the same.
I haven’t felt this conflicted since that last week of school.
Well, shit. Hello, Harper Denton. So we meet again, Ice Queen.
At least Van Dyken was right about one thing—knowing her can have its advantages.
Like knowing she’ll go straight for the jugular without a second thought.
Best to keep that in mind so I don’t get caught flatfooted staring at those legs of hers.
Chapter Four
Ryder
High heels.
What the f*ck is she doing here?
Bare legs.
And not just here in the office, but in Los Angeles altogether.
Sexy calves.
Wasn’t she off in New York conquering the world or something?
Pencil skirt.
Maybe I like it a little dirty.
Shoot me now because the damn view in front of me is enough to distract me from paying attention to Mason as he points to where the facility will be laid out on the land before us.
“…in an unprecedented move, Century Development has changed the way it’s doing its bidding process for this project. In lieu of our typical sealed bid, we wanted to control the bidding environment in all aspects of the process…”
I should be turned on by the sight before me: a vast amount of undeveloped land. A rarity in southern California these days. The one thing someone in my career can’t wait to get their hands on. Get dirty in.
Dirty. There’s that word again. And of course when I think of getting my hands on something and the term dirty, my eyes veer right back to Harper.
To the curve of her hips. The square of her shoulders. The tight knot of hair at the base of her neck that fits expertly beneath the yellow hard hat on her head, an item every person here no doubt hates wearing in the warm sun, and yet somehow she makes look sexy.
Jesus, Ryder. Remember who she is. Competition. Sexy competition with sharp claws she won’t hesitate to use.
Not like I ever complained about scratch marks before though.
“…the renditions back at the office you saw before we headed out will be available to you for reference during the bidding process, but I felt it was important to visit the site to see the magnitude of the project in person…”
She’s probably doing this on purpose. Wearing the skirt and the heels when she knew we were going to be headed out to a dirt site. Totally impractical. Sexy as sin. Fully distracting.
And I’m losing my mind.
Those heels, though. I laughed when she climbed out of the car with them still on because I was sure as shit that she was going to wobble on the uneven dirt surface. That she was going to pull the I-can’t-walk-in-these card, and yet of course she hasn’t. But I should know better by now not to underestimate her. She’s been nothing but sure-footed. Smooth as silk. Completely competent with both her questions and her spiked heels in this rocky terrain surrounded by men.
It shouldn’t surprise me...
Mason continues on, pointing out the approximate locations for the five different buildings that make up the whole of the facility. I listen passively because I’ve already plotted them in my head from the full-scale renditions we were able to study back at the office.
I glance around to my competition. To Brandon from Nograd, with his Lacoste obsessed wardrobe and his too-tight pants that are so representative of his uptight temperament. He won’t bend, isn’t good with having to adjust, and is no doubt bursting a blood vessel right now because he doesn’t have the rest of the details of the project yet to obsess over.