Relentless (Mason Family 4)

Oliver shakes his head and moves to stand next to his brother.

My heart races. Despite the fact that Oliver’s attention is on Boone, there’s still an invisible cord between the two of us. It’s as real as the drool hanging from Kelly’s lips.

“I’ll try it sometime,” Oliver tells Boone. And then as if he’s turning a page in a book to get to the good part, he raises his eyes to mine. “Let’s go over that file from legal.”

“Yes, sir,” I say.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Oliver says, walking toward his office.

I give Boone and Kelly a quick smile and follow Oliver to his office.

Seventeen

Oliver

The door shuts behind her.

“How has your day been so far?” I ask, circling around the corner of my desk. I set my keys on top of a legal pad. They rattle as they come to a rest. “Thank you for the text about legal, by the way.”

“Oh, of course. No problem.”

I plant both hands on the edge of my desk and, hoping I have enough self-restraint to do it, I look up at her.

Damn, she’s gorgeous.

Her hair is loose around her shoulders, her body outfitted in a black fabric that gathers at the side. It skims her curves, hugging her frame without encasing it. The look is capped off with a pair of heels that have a strap over her narrow ankles.

How are ankles sexy?

The only piece of her that isn’t perfect is my doing—the glimmer of uncertainty she’s desperately trying to hide in her pretty doe eyes.

I blow out a breath.

“Wade needs to cancel your three o’clock,” she says, her fingers laced together in front of her. “Holt would like to see you as soon as you’re available in regards to the Jewell update from legal, and someone named Anjelica called. She said that there’s a contract for Hollis Hudson in your email, and she would like it reviewed as soon as desperately possible.” She grins. “Her words, not mine.”

She flips a switch from hesitation to confidence.

“I confirmed your attendance at the Landry Gala. Apparently, the original RSVP didn’t get returned. There is a stack of invoices that accounting would like you to look at on my desk, and I filed the box full of papers sitting beside the sofa.” She motions toward the spot on the floor that housed an overflow of filing for the past month. “I hope that’s okay.”

My chest rumbles with a disbelieving chuckle. “That’s amazing, actually.”

She lifts her chin. “Great. I just got back from lunch, so if you’ll let me grab a few things from my office, we can go over the report from legal.”

I hang my head, my hands still planted on my desk. “Just … hold on a second.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I close my eyes and sigh.

We need to go over the report. It’s important. But what’s more imperative at this precise moment in time is the undercurrent of precariousness between us. It’s the wobble in her gaze, the tightness in her smile that’s barely there today but didn’t exist last night.

It’s my fault. One hundred percent.

I kissed her.

I meant it when I said I wasn’t sorry, and I also meant it when I said I’d been wanting to do it since I first saw her. But what I didn’t mean to do was make things between us uncomfortable. Or awkward. Or anything less than the brilliant easiness that we’ve experienced every other time we’ve been together.

Until now.

I open my eyes. “I told you last night that I want us to be open and honest with each other.”

She nods, biting her bottom lip.

“And I need you to be honest with me right now,” I say.

“Of course. About what?”

I cock my head to the side and look at her. We both know what I mean.

She takes a deep breath and walks to the chair facing my desk. “May I?” she asks, motioning toward the seat.

“Yes. Please do.” I sit in my chair and watch her gracefully unfold herself onto the chair across from me.

She settles herself before her eyes reach mine. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to be clear about what you’d like to discuss.”

Her professionalism throws me off. This wasn’t the kind of conversation I was prepared—or wanted—to have with her. I wanted the banter, the back and forth that I look forward to with Shaye. The laughter and rambling and smiles that stick with me for hours after she leaves.

I sit back and run a hand along my tie.

But this is where we are. Now I have to figure out how in the hell to get out of it.

“I kissed you last night.” I sit upright and let the statement hang in the air. “How do you feel about that today?”

She swallows. “Well, I would feel a little better if I knew how you were feeling.”

Her words are measured, chosen carefully to guard herself from … what? Me? Disappointment? I’m not sure.