One to Chase (One to Hold 7)

C.J. steps forward, catching Marcus’s hand and giving it a shake. “I know you by reputation.”

“A good thing, I hope.” Marcus is still smiling, and his eyes only briefly leave me to acknowledge my friend.

“A fantastic thing.” The note in C.J.’s voice tells me a follow-up call is in my future. “Hey, look who’s here. Don’t mind me.”

He takes off before I can stop him. It’s a total bluff, and I know he’s trying to give us alone time. Panic simmers in my stomach. Being alone with Marcus is not a good idea.

I turn back to face the man leaning against the bar beside me. He’s wearing a black button-down and grey slacks, very casual-chic. “Lucky running into you here.”

Every word is a tingling stroke, and I catch his reference. We both got lucky the last time we shared drinks at a bar.

“More like predictable. Chicago’s pretty small in certain circles.” I take another hit off my martini only to find it’s the last one. Marcus is quick to signal the bartender.

“One of the same? I’m having vodka.” My stomach is so tight, and the sexual frustration I felt earlier in my bedroom makes my head hurt.

“You don’t have to buy me a drink. I—”

“Wasn’t that the deal? I’d buy you one, then you’d owe me one?”

The bartender is waiting, so I shrug. “You’ll have to forget the referral, then. I can’t let my debts pile up.”

“I don’t keep score.” His eyes travel slowly down my body, and I almost shiver. “Besides, it looks like I was right. You don’t need my help here.”

“I don’t need your help anywhere.” That isn’t entirely true, but I’m certainly not conceding my power.

Marcus’s eyes light with interest. “Maybe you can help me, then.”

“I doubt that.” I hate how I love that my strength doesn’t scare him.

“Actually, you can.” Our drinks are back and he hands a short tumbler of clear liquid to me. “Skal.” A quick clink of his glass on mine and he continues. “After you left today, I started looking at our firm’s website. It’s pretty dated.”

So we’re talking work. “When’s the last time you updated it?”

Eyebrows rise, he glances down and passes a hand across his chin. “That’s just it. Never.”

“How old is it?”

“Five years? It was one of the first things we did when we incorporated.”

He cuts those smoky hazel eyes up at me, and my body definitely responds. “I’m sure I can recommend someone. Let me get my bearings, and I’ll figure out who’s the best and call you.”

“I thought you were the best.”

Gotcha. Or so he thinks. “I’m actually more on the planning and administration side of things.” My brain is fuzzy from the drinks. What’s the word? I find it. “Management. I’d farm out the design work anyway.”

“Then manage it for me.” The way he orders me around is both annoying and exciting.

Just then a rowdy patron pushes in at the bar behind him, sending Marcus forward into me. He slides a hand around to my lower back, and heat floods my core. Our bodies are touching. My lips are heavy with need. I want him to kiss me. I want him all over me. Damn you, Marcus Merritt.

“I’m not sure working together is a good idea.”

“Of course it is.” His voice is lower, and I know he’s feeling it, too. “You’re the best. I’m the best.”

“But we have a history.”

“We’re both professionals.” His hand slides lower to the curve of my ass, and a sharp ache registers between my thighs. I need this, but I fight it.

“It’s too weird.” My voice is husky. “You’re Elaine’s brother. I’m Patrick’s sister...”