Without a word she lifted her hand, pulled her reading glasses off, and placed them on his desk. “Now for the next question—”
“What a minute, that’s it?” he demanded, suddenly feeling cheated. “The first item of clothing you’re taking off is your glasses?”
Her eyebrows furrowed, irritation flickering in her eyes. “You’re not getting to the good stuff with one question, Simon.”
“You do have lovely eyes,” he conceded.
She rewarded him with a smile. “My next question is, how did your family take to your tech dreams?”
“I’m not talking about my family,” he said flatly.
“You’re going to have to give me more than that.”
“Let’s just say that neither of my parents saw the usefulness of technology.” It was the kind of stock, sugar-coated answer that he hated, but his parents were a sore subject. And nobody, not even Heather, was going to change that.
Satisfied, she reached for the pins in her hair and, one by one, slowly started taking them out. There was nothing explicit or inherently erotic about the way her fingers tugged at the hair pins but he was suddenly, painfully, aroused.
As she put the pins on his desk, the bun she usually wore at work started to unravel. Her luxurious auburn hair fanned out, cascading down her shoulders. He ached to run his fingers though the shiny tresses that reminded him of copper-colored silk.
Heather seemed oblivious to his reaction as she ran her hands through her hair to straighten it out. Once she tousled her hair, she gazed at him expectantly. “Ready for the next question?”
If watching her unpin her hair was already getting his heart rate going, then watching her strip was going to short-circuit his brain completely. He prided himself on being in control of his faculties. On his laser-focused intellect. But Heather had the power to turn his brain to mush. Right now, he was marveling at the fact that they had both managed to get any work done at all.
“Ready,” he finally choked out.
“What was it about Stanford that made you want to go there?”
He forced himself to answer the question, though he barely knew what the hell he was saying. If there was anything coherent in his response, he would be amazed. Once he got through praising Stanford, she inched closer to his desk and began to undo the buttons of her blouse.
Each button that came undone revealed the creamy skin beneath until she tossed the fabric aside and stood before him, shirtless. Her lacy black bra had pushed up her breasts, her ample cleavage so tempting and distracting that he had to reach for the brandy he stashed in his drawer and take a long swig.
She laughingly waved him off when he held out the bottle to her. After he answered her questions about how he first learned about Dover she said, “What would you like me to take off next?”
His eyebrow shot up. “You’re letting me choose this time?”
Heather nodded, her silky locks skimming across her shoulders with the movement. “Yes.”
He paused for a moment, trying not to let his erection do all the thinking for him. “Take off your shoes.”
Surprise made her brow furrow. “Really? My shoes? Are you sure?”
“I want you to be comfortable,” he said. “I figure getting out of your shoes would make things easier.”
“Aren’t you sweet.” She slipped her heels off and stared right at him. A familiar heat blazed in her eyes. A look like that from her was always good for his ego.
Swallowing hard Simon adjusted in his seat, still painfully aware of how much trouble they could get into for doing this. “I’m ready for the next question if you are.”
“How did you make the money to pay for your initial investment into Dover?” she asked.
“That’s a long story.” He sighed heavily. A long and complicated story that brought back memories of the last night he ever spent at his parents’ house. “Let’s just say that my father gave me some of his insurance money. Instead of spending it the way he wanted me to spend it, I spent it my way. I also made pretty good money doing coding jobs for small business, and since I was already in college on a scholarship I figured I’d invest in Dover before someone else did.”