The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

“You wanted to see me?” she asks softly.

The sound of her voice has a physical effect on me. I remember her sex talk and what a turn-on it was to hear her sweet voice say such dirty things.

“Yes.” I stare at her. “I did.” Emily was the first woman I have been with in a long time who had no idea who I was. Strangely enough, I didn’t need to be anyone that night.

Being Jim was enough.

“What about?”

I sit back in my chair, annoyed with her attitude. The majority of women gush over me—this one, not so much.

“What are you doing in New York?” I ask her to try to make polite conversation.

“You asked me that yesterday,” she snaps. “Get to the point.”

“I am asking you again now. Stop with the fucking attitude.”

She narrows her eyes as if annoyed.

I sit forward in my seat. “What is your problem?” I sneer.

“You. You are my problem.”

“Me?” I ask, affronted. “What did I do?”

“Do you have something work related to talk to me about or not, Jim?”

I glare at her. “You’re very rude.”

“You’re very rich.”

“And?”

She shrugs.

“What does that mean?” I snap.

“Nothing.”

She straightens her back. “If you don’t have anything work related to talk to me about, I’ll get going.”

I clench my jaw as I stare at her; the air crackles between us. “Can I see you tonight?”

Her eyes hold mine. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a professional, and I have no intention of mixing business and pleasure.”

I clench my jaw to stop myself from smirking. My interest in her is growing by the second. “What makes you so sure it would be a pleasure?”

“History has a way of repeating itself,” she whispers as her dark eyes drop to my lips.

I get a vision of her naked and on top of me in my chair, and I inhale sharply as my cock begins to thump. “History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it,” I say.

“Quoting Winston Churchill now, Mr. Miles?” she breathes.

I smirk, amused by her intelligence. “You must look at the facts because they look at you.”