To Have and to Hold (The Wedding Belles #1)(42)

Seth snorted. “Because you’re such a good judge of character. And quick to face your demons.”

Brooke gave him a plastic smile as she snatched up her planner and purse and stood. “I think we’re done here. From now on I’ll give my full report of the wedding progress to my boss, and she’ll keep you apprised of the details.”

“That wasn’t our deal,” he snarled.

“Well, I made a mistake when I made that deal,” she said, heading toward the door. Brooke shot him a glance over her shoulder. “And as you so kindly pointed out, I’m clearly not a good judge of character. God knows I misjudged you.”

Brooke reached for the door handle, jerking it open just as a male hand lifted and slammed the door shut again.

“I never lied to you about who I was,” he said, his voice low and angry. “About what I was.”

“And who and what is that, exactly?” she shot back. “A cold, rigid control freak who not only refuses to let himself be happy but doesn’t seem to want it for his sister, either?”

“Cold, am I?” he said, his breath warm against her cheek. “You sure about that?”

Brooke’s heart was thumping now, and she jerked at the door handle again. His big hand stayed where it was, keeping the door closed. Locking her in.

Her hand dropped to her side, and she inhaled. “Let me go.”

She saw his fingers flex slightly, as though wanting to remove his hand but incapable of it.

“I’m trying,” he growled.

“Try harder,” she said, her voice urgent.

“Why?” he shifted slightly closer until the center of his wide chest crowded against her shoulder. “Scared of what might happen if you stayed?”

Brooke opened her mouth to deliver a tart response only to realize that her face was too flush, her mind far too addled to come up with a worthy lie. The truth was she was terrified what was going to happen if she didn’t get out of this room. Terrified that she was going to cross some terrible professional line that she’d never recover from.

Seth’s lips touched her cheek. Not a kiss, exactly. Just an erotic touch that sent fire rippling from the spot his lips touched to lower on her body. Spots she wanted his mouth to touch. And linger.

Brooke ordered her body to move, and when it didn’t obey, Seth pressed even closer, his mouth brushing her cheek once more, but closer to her mouth. Another non-kiss that was sexier than any actual kiss she’d ever received.

She kept her gaze locked on the back of his hand as it continued to hold the door closed, even as she felt his other hand move toward her.

Seth palmed the back of her head, gently turning her face toward him. Their eyes locked, and for a second, neither moved.

He dropped his head and kissed her.

Brooke moaned as his tongue slipped into her mouth, hot and confident, his hand continuing to hold her head as his other hand dropped from the door to her hip, turning her toward him so they were chest to chest, man to woman.

She heard a thud, realized it was her purse dropping to the floor. Heard another moan, realized it was her own.

Her hands were on his face, her fingers digging at his hair as she kissed him back. Brooke fought for control of the kiss and failed miserably. He was too big, too controlling, too damn hot in the way he took the kiss from slow and sensual to hot and raunchy and then back to slow again.

She heard a knocking noise, embarrassed to realize it might be her heart. The knock grew louder, and reality crept in, albeit slowly.

He lifted his head, breathing hard.

Another knock. At the door. Someone was knocking at the door, her addled brain finally put together.

She immediately stepped back out of the way of the door—out of sight from whomever was on the other side.

Seth swore under his breath before jerking the door open.

“Good evening, Mr. Tyler. I have your food order here, sir.”

Seth made a noise that might have been a thank-you, might have simply been a grunt as he pulled out his wallet and shoved a fifty-dollar bill at the delivery boy.

“Thanks, let me just get you your change—”

Seth grabbed the plastic bag and shut the door in the kid’s face, then turned back to Brooke.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them even spoke.

The magnitude of what she’d just done was starting to penetrate the haze of want and she slowly bent to retrieve her bag before standing again and forcing herself to meet his eyes.

She tried to figure out what he might be thinking, but as usual there was nothing on the straight, icy planes of his face.

Brooke reached for the door handle, and he stopped her again, but only with words this time.

“You should stay. Eat.”

“I shouldn’t. And we both know it,” she said as she pulled open the door, peeking her head out into the darkened hallway to make sure the delivery guy was already on the elevator.

“I promised you dinner,” he tried again.

“I’m not hungry. Really.”

Well, she was, but not for food.

Brooke stepped out into the hallway.

“Ms. Baldwin. Brooke.”

She paused in her stride but didn’t look back.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not sorry,” he said. “Not in the least.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” she whispered. “That shouldn’t have happened. It was unprofessional, and for what it’s worth, I’m embarrassed and hope you’ll understand that this was a misstep on my part and not a reflection on the Belles.”