Million Dollar Devil (Million Dollar #1)(36)

“We’re working.” I point at the clothes before grabbing the first suit I see. While I unbutton the jacket, I watch him strip off his shirt.

Bad idea.

I glance away, out the window, as I extend the jacket out on the hanger. Then I sit down and start to craft a bio of James Rowan: Atlanta native James Rowan is a true Renaissance man. Whether at the beach or in the office, he believes in living life to the fullest and will never resist an opportunity to make his mark on the world. Working hard or playing hard, he embodies the Banks image of strength, vitality, and power. That is why we have selected James Rowan as the new face of Banks LTD’s exciting new line of menswear.

Hmm.

It’ll do. I quickly send it off to LB, along with two of the pics I snapped, with Presenting James Rowan! as the subject.

James dresses without any other comments. Once I sense he’s dressed, I turn and size up the man in the mirror. “Nice. Works for me. How about you?”

“Not my favorite.”

At least he’s honest. “Too bad, because it’s one of mine.”

“What’s a suit like this cost?”

“Why? You get to keep the clothes.”

“Just wondered. Maybe I’ll buy one for Charlie.”

Is he trying to get as much as he can from this arrangement, or is he genuinely interested in purchasing nice clothes for his brother?

“How about I throw in a gift card for Charlie?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I fish out another jacket. “I’ll text my assistant now and have her email the code to Charlie. What’s his email?”

James looks blank now. “I’ll buy my brother’s clothes.”

“Suit yourself,” I say, pocketing my phone and glaring at him. “And while you’re doing that, you choose the next suit.”

I want to see what he likes, what he’ll choose. To my pleasure, he picks the next suit that I would’ve chosen.

“Do ya like this one?”

“Yes.”

“How about the tie?” He chooses a bright-red one with royal-blue splashes.

“Definitely.”

“And how about me? Like me too?”

“And we’re back to this.” I need to set some boundaries so we can get some work done. “You said we’d ignore what just happened.”

“And yet here we are . . . alone in your apartment . . . just so you and I could be alone?” He’s amused. His twinkling blue eyes always give him away.

“I DIDN’T . . . I didn’t think of doing this here so we could be alone. I did it so that you wouldn’t be exposed to the world before you were ready!”

My mouth dries as he sheds the shirt. My eyes fixate on his gorgeous chest and the matting of hair already growing back. The way he moves his long fingers, the way they work as he slides on and buttons the next shirt.

He closes the distance between us but doesn’t touch me. Instead, he lets me long for his touch, and I do.

Long for his touch.

“I can stay professional, if that’s what you want.” His thick promise runs over the exposed skin of my arms like a caress. Like the caress I crave more and more every second.

“This line, it’s important to me. It’s everything.” I want to tell him that my dad . . . that my dad is the only person that has ever truly loved me, and feeling his love—feeling his acceptance of me and his pride in me—is important to me.

“I get that, Lizzy,” he says quietly. “But can’t you have a little of both?”

I don’t know how to respond, and so I let the silence envelop us. It’s a safety net, a blanket of warmth and protection, because if I don’t answer him, I don’t grant permission or turn him away. We remain in this uncharted territory, and right now that’s fine. The unknown may keep us trapped in dangerous waters, but I’m not in too deep. Not yet. But I’m afraid that soon this devil will have me drowning in him.

He clucks his tongue and checks out the next suit in the mirror. “Okay then. We’ll play it your way.”

“Perfect,” I say at his back, now flooded with relief and surprised that I’m flooded with even more disappointment. “We have so much work to do.”

Minutes fly by, and soon he’s facing me again while he slowly fastens the buttons on a baby-blue shirt. He easily snaps on the cuff links, too, as if he’s been dressing like this all his life.

“That’s perfect. Matches your eyes.” I force a smile but know the look on my face gives me away.

My cheeks feel warmer than usual, and the rest of my body is following suit.

His broad chest, cut abs, strong arms, and the way that shirt hugs all of this man make my stomach turn flips. He looks away right when I’m about to crumble, shrugging off the shirt and exposing his bare back.

“Okay, then,” I say, twisting my hair into a knot as I watch him disrobe from the waist down. His cock is tight against his white briefs, and my mouth waters as I think about our questions.

“Eyes up, Miss Banks.”

I swallow and try to think of anything but his hard body, his long and beautiful . . .

Clearing my throat, I somehow manage to snatch up the closest jacket and pass it over as I say, “This is our Banks Brunch Jacket. What do you think?”