Double Daddy Trouble

I mean, all it took for me to fall apart was a glimpse of his naked body. Here I was, twenty-five years old, an ambitious, hard-working, no-nonsense businesswoman, reduced to a blushing heap with one look.

I tried to imagine how I would have reacted if it had been anyone else other than Bruin. If I had walked in on any other client naked, there would have been hell to pay. On their end. It was totally unprofessional. It was borderline criminal. And I would never have allowed anyone to make me feel cowardly and anxious. After all, it was his mistake. His fault. Surely he knew exactly what time I was due to arrive onboard Mirabella, and he would have had plenty of time to clear out and prevent my seeing his whole damn naked body. Add to that the audacity of not only being present on the boat, not only being naked in front of me, but to have just slept with some random girl right before I arrived?

It was downright offensive.

And these thoughts were the culprits. The ones to keep me up all night, tossing and turning, alternating between anxiety, righteous fury, and, I had to admit, a little bit of excitement. That was the emotional, stupid side of me. My heart. Pounding along as I retraced every sharp line and angle of Bruin’s body in my mind, urging me to think about how it would feel to lay a hand on his hard stomach, his powerful arm. His enormous cock.

I swallowed hard, standing in my en suite bathroom, staring at my reflection.

“It’s just a routine business meeting,” I told myself aloud, but I wasn’t convinced.

I sighed and splashed my face with water, trying to break myself out of my anxious haze. It was early, still, but I had not been able to sleep anyway. I stepped into the shower and let the warm water rush down my body. I closed my eyes and immediately the image of Bruin sprang to the forefront of my mind, as usual. I bit my lip, my whole body feeling like it was on fire.

My hands slid down my chest, over my stiffening nipples. Down my smooth, flat stomach and down to that sweet spot between my legs. I inhaled sharply. The very thought of Bruin, the fantasy man of my dreams and my romance novels, made me wet.

What the hell was I doing?

I quickly shook myself off and rushed through the routine of washing my hair and body, then stepped out of the shower and toweled off. I blow-dried my hair and got to work putting on my makeup. I had to resist the urge to add a little more glamor to my usual look. But I kept reminding myself this was just a normal meeting. Bruin, as hot as he might be, was no different from any other client. I had to treat him the same way as anyone else.

Still, I couldn’t stop myself from adding just a dash of red lipstick. I told myself it wasn’t to impress Bruin, it was just to make me feel more confident, but that was a lie. And I knew it.

I got dressed in a form-fitting black dress that came down to just above my knees, then added an understated silver necklace and some red pumps. I looked pretty damn good. Professional, but with just a slight hint of sexy.

“Perfect,” I murmured, checking myself out. Would it be enough to make Bruin take me seriously? I sure hoped so. I needed to get through this for Jeff’s sake.

The sun was shining and the seagulls were crying over the water as I boarded Mirabella, helped up by the same uniformed attendant as before, Miguel. He smiled at me, albeit a little embarrassedly. I think he had to know what I saw in that stateroom the last time I was there.

“Good to see you again, ma’am

,” he said cheerily. I gave him a nod.

“Same to you, Miguel. Where can I find Mr. Kincaid? I’d like to get started right away, please,” I told him with a weak smile.

He led me downstairs to a lower deck, the same hall that contained the fated stateroom. My heart pounded, my mind running in circles. To my relief, we didn’t go into that room. We went down the hall to a smaller bedroom. I had hoped to meet with Bruin under the utmost professional circumstances. An office. With a desk between us. But that wasn’t Bruin’s style, of course.

Miguel let me in and I walked in, trying to keep my breathing normal. And there he was. Standing by the bed. He was fully dressed this time, but that did little to tame his sex appeal. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt with a casual blazer over it. He gave me a brilliant, devilish grin, and I could feel my knees buckling beneath me.

Be strong, Jillian. You can do this.

“Miss Hargrove,” he said, his tone cocky as always, “I’m glad you made it.”

“Of course,” I answered flatly. “Jeff wants me to move forward with the purchase.”

“Good to hear. Come sit,” he said, gesturing toward the bed as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I frowned.

“No… no, thank you. I’ll stand,” I answered. He raised an eyebrow and slowly started walking over to me. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

He stopped short right in front of me, his body heat radiating warmth over me. I could scarcely remember to breathe. “No need to be so shy now, Jillian. You’ve already seen all the tricks up my sleeve,” he said softly. His voice was more like a growl. It made me shiver.

“Can we just cut to the chase?” I asked shakily.

He smirked. “Sure. We can do that. But you might be a little overdressed. In fact, I think we both are. Let’s fix that. I’ll start,” he said, shrugging off his blazer and tossing it behind him.

I gulped.

“Th-that’s not what I mean and you know it,” I told him, my voice barely over a whisper.

“No? Are you sure?” he asked, taking another step closer. We were nearly touching, my eyes level with his collarbone. My body was freezing and burning at the same time.