The Bluff (Graham Brothers, #2)(78)

Winnie beams at me, then returns her gaze to the chalkboard. “Dancing—hm. What is something you do surprisingly well?”

I scoff. “Yeah right. One of my biggest fears.”

Crossing her arms, Winnie narrows her eyes, studying me. “There’s no way. I saw you dance at Pat’s wedding. Your hips didn’t lie, Graham.”

Normally, knowing someone watched me dancing would make me flush with embarrassment. The thought of Winnie watching me, noticing me, makes a primal part of me very, very happy. From her comment, she clearly liked what she saw. It makes me want to pull her into my arms now.

Slow dancing—THAT I can do.

I take a step closer, still not touching her, but definitely invading her space. It’s slight, but I don’t miss the way Winnie shivers. I love having an effect on her. Seeing her react does something similar to me as a tingling electric feeling zips up my spine.

My voice is low and husky. “Have you been watching me, temp?”

Her attention moves from my eyes down to my lips and back up. “You’re kind of hard to miss, big guy.” She blinks a few times, then clears her throat. “Back to dancing—is it really one of your biggest fears?”

I nod, slowly. I wasn’t thinking about how vulnerable this question actually makes me feel when I jotted it down. “I’m not good at it. And I feel like everyone’s watching me.”

“A fear though? Dancing—not bear attacks or falling off a cliff or dying?”

As she asks, I realize there is one thing I fear more. Losing someone I love. My chest tightens, and I clench my hands into fists in my pockets.

“Bear attacks definitely aren’t on my radar, and I don’t tend to frequent cliffs.”

Winnie smiles. “Touché. For the record, I thought you danced well. And yes, I might have been watching you. I’ll admit it.”

“So, you didn’t hate me then?”

“Did you think I hated you?” Winnie asks, tilting her head.

I shrug. “You didn’t seem to particularly like me.”

“I didn’t not like you. I just thought you were … dangerous.”

Well, that’s an interesting tidbit. I want to ask more, but she keeps going.

“My question is, if you hate dancing, why did you do it?”

“Jo asked me.”

Winnie’s eyes soften, and she bites her lip. She must like this answer because she steps forward, closing the last bit of distance between us and to wrap her arms around my waist. I hold her against me, stroking one hand up her back while the other gives her ponytail the lightest tug. She feels so perfect in my arms, like all her curves and angles were designed to fit mine.

“You’re a big softy under all these layers of grump, James Graham,” she says.

“False. I am not a softy.”

I’m really not. That said, I would do just about anything Jo asked. I’m beginning to worry the same might be true of Winnie.

I nuzzle my nose into her hair, inhaling her sweet caramel scent. Definitely perfection. Sliding my palms down her arms, I bend and press a soft kiss to Winnie’s temple, then to the curve of her ear, then to her neck. Her eyes flutter closed.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” she asks

“How what’s going to be?”

I kiss the edge of her jaw.

“The job. Your text said you wanted to keep things professional at work.”

And now I’m totally rethinking my stance on that. “You hugged me first.”

“And you kissed me. And smelled my hair.”

I take another deep inhale. “Caramel perfection. My new favorite scent.”

Winnie hums, tilting her head to give me better access to her neck. I take full advantage, leaving a line of soft kisses up her throat.

“I’m not so sure I can work under these conditions.” Her voice is breathy, almost a pant.

“Perhaps you should write a strongly worded letter to the management.”

“I don’t think my boss would care.”

I kiss the corner of her mouth, and she exhales a soft sigh. I want to capture each of these sounds. Even more, I want to spend more time exploring, seeing what kinds of sounds I can draw out of her with my lips, with my hands.

“Oh, I think your boss cares. He cares very”—kiss—“very”—kiss—“much.”

“Well, then. I’ll get to work on that strongly worded letter—in a minute.”

I place another teasing kiss just shy of her lips, and she groans.

“Maybe ten minutes,” she says.

With that, Winnie pushes up on her toes and covers my mouth with hers. The kiss is searing and desperate, making me think she missed me the last seventeen-and-a-half hours as much as I missed her. I cradle the back of her head, drawing her closer as her fingers trail up and down my spine.

I don’t know what I was thinking—mixing a relationship with work is actually pretty fantastic. I can see a lot of benefits to this arrangement. Especially considering we’re the only two people here in this whole empty building.

When I pull back, we’re both short of breath and looking a little dazed. Winnie chews her lip and looks up at me with those fathomless blue eyes.

“James?”

I grunt a response, then press a kiss to the tip of her nose.