The square cut of his jaw was relaxed in sleep and I noticed the dark crescent his eyelashes made against his cheeks. He was stunningly handsome, even without his laser blue eyes open. My eyes wandered over the stark muscles of his arm and my cheeks warmed again. Fenton Morris was a dangerously attractive man – asleep or awake.
A small sigh escaped me as I tried to remember what had happened with him in that wide bed. My brain was still fogged over, some patches thicker than others, and I could not remember anything past the elevator. It was a shame I was in no shape to enjoy him properly.
What are you saying, Kya? I asked myself.
There was no way I regretted not savoring every second of wild sex with Fenton Morris. He was business, nothing else. I would have room for fun when I had reached my goals. I grabbed my other stray red heel off the bedroom floor and straightened my shoulders. It was time to get dressed and get back my professional dignity.
My phone had skittered a few inches away from my purse and, before I took one step out of the bedroom, it rang. I had turned the volume all the way up before entering the nightclub, where it still had not been loud enough. Now, the ringer was deafening.
Fenton woke up and stretched, his long legs tugging
down the sheet as he straightened them. I could have stepped out and shut the door behind me, but I was caught staring at the trail of dark hair that tapered from his belly button down below the thin border of the sheet.
"Good morning, beautiful," he said.
"You're naked." I snatched my dress from the top of the bedroom door.
"I always sleep naked. You should try it some time." Fenton stretched again, then sat up, his washboard abs standing out in sharp relief. "How about now? It’s too early to be going anywhere."
He held out one wide hand. His thick black hair was rumpled and his smile fuzzy and sleepy. I felt a tug low in my belly and pressed my dress against my body to ward off the temptation.
"Don't you have training to be doing?" I asked. "I've got to go. I've got to go to work."
"I thought I was your work," Fenton said.
"I'm not that kind of girl," I told him. "Whatever happened last night, you can rest assured our relationship will be nothing but professional from here on out. I have a reputation for integrity, no tricks or dirty deals. I hope you, sir, can say the same."
Fenton ran a hand through his black hair and frowned. "I fight clean. One of the reasons I stay away from endorsements. What I do, I do for myself and my reputation. So tell me, Ms. Allen, what do you honestly think I tricked you into coming here?"
I clutched the black dress to my chest and straightened my shoulders. "No."
"And, did I force you to drink champagne into the wee hours of the morning?"
"No."
"Then, come back to bed," Fenton said. "There's nothing wrong with admitting we're attracted to each other."
I ducked behind the open door and quickly yanked on my dress. "Whether or not I find you attractive is not the point. I make it a professional point not to get involved romantically with my clients. It sets the wrong tone for our business dealings."
Fenton chuckled and hitched himself back on the bed to lean against the long headboard. "Yes, please, save us from setting the wrong tone. I much prefer my business dealings to be uptight and nervous."
I zipped up my dress and bumped the bedroom door open again. "I am not nervous. My behavior last night was inexcusable and I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I don't sleep with clients."
"That's too bad. I was in the market for new vitamin supplements," Fenton said.
My cheeks burned, but this time it was not desire. "I probably drank too much champagne so I could put up with your rudeness."
His hearty laughed shook the whole bed. "Oh, keep your panties on, Ms. Allen. Remember, you're trying to set a business tone here. By the way, your little lace slip is over there on the mirror. I like it. What's the word? Demure. Like another layer of sexy."
I stomped over to the mirror and brandished my one red heel at him. "I don't know what kind of women you are used to, Mr. Morris, but where I come from, women wear more than scraps underneath their dresses."
"You're right. You will take a little getting used to," Fenton said. "How about we start with breakfast? You could order room service. Business breakfast? Has a nice tone to it."
I wriggled into the lace slip, too angry to care that his laser blue eyes watched every inch as I pulled it up. I tugged my black dress into place and ignored the molten feeling his look caused. Fenton was offering me a chance to pitch him the endorsement deal, something I was sure I had lost just minutes before. The only problem was my body betrayed me. The hangover was gone, but the desire was not. I wanted to kiss that smirk right off Fenton Morris' face.
"Like I said, I have to go. How about we plan on lunch?" The dignity of my offer disappeared as a casino coin dislodged from my bra and dropped to the floor.
His hand snaked out and caught my wrist. As he reeled me into the wide bed, I wondered if he could read my thoughts. The kiss was searing hot, his lips hungry. I was off balance and had two choices – tumble into his arms or straddle his lap. I threw a leg over, hoping to level the playing field.