The Secret (Single in Seattle 1)

“You’re wearing jeans.”

“Smart one, aren’t you?”

I raise my eyebrows and stare up at him. God, he is hotter in person. That’s just not fair.

Get it together, Liv. You’re a professional.

“I asked you to wear sweats or something loose so I could get an accurate measurement. It’s important.”

Without a word, Vaughn takes off his shoes, unfastens his jeans, lets them drop to pool around his feet, then steps out of them and flicks them aside with his toe.

Thank God he’s wearing underwear.

I mean, it’s tight-as-hell boxer briefs and leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, but he’s covered.

Sort of.

And holy Jesus in Heaven, the man is hung. How am I going to get this measurement without making a fool of myself?

“Better?”

“Sure. Just…spread your legs a bit.”

He grins and obliges.

“This isn’t so bad, after all,” he says, and I snarl at him.

He’s warm and so freaking firm as I measure from his crotch to his ankle and then quickly move to his waist, turning to jot down the numbers.

I have to measure each thigh and calf, and then, finally, I can stand before him and out of range of that.

God, I’m flushed. Sure, Vaughn’s potent on screen, but he’s no less so in person. Maybe even sexier in person. I wasn’t expecting that.

He’s also cocky and rude.

“Please raise your arms like this.” I lift mine straight out from my sides, and he mimics me. “Perfect.”

I have to wrap my arms around him, like in a hug, to grab the tape and pull it around his chest. When I lean in, I swear I hear him take a deep breath through his nose, near my head.

“Did you just sniff me?” I demand after jerking back.

His lips—his full and gorgeous lips—twist into a sneer. “In your dreams, sweetheart.”

“Unlike every other woman in this country, I don’t dream about you.”

“Try the world.”

“God, you’re so full of yourself,” I mutter under my breath and make a note of the chest measurement.

“What did you just say?”

I sigh and turn back to him. “I said I have to get something off my shelf.”

“No, that’s definitely not what you said.”

“Okay.” I prop my hands on my hips and square my shoulders. This guy doesn’t intimidate me. “I said that you’re full of yourself.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Aww, poor Vaughn. I’m not fawning all over you. I bet you’re not used to a woman with a backbone, are you?”

“You have a mouth on you, don’t you?”

You have no idea.

“Look, we’re done here.” I turn away and try not to think about how warm he is or how good he smells.

How firm his damn body is.

Why does he have to be a jerk?

“Great.”

And with that, he pulls on his pants and hurries out of my office.

Thankfully, aside from a couple of fittings, I won’t have to deal with Vaughn Barrymore often.

And then I glance down at my paper and realize that I forgot to do his shoulders and neck.

Damn it!

I run out of my office and find him waiting by the elevators.

“Vaughn,” I call out, and his face whips up, his gaze meeting mine.

His green eyes look…frustrated.

“I need a couple more measurements.”

“I thought you said we were done.”

“I was wrong.” I swallow hard. “I apologize. I need just a few more minutes of your time.”

He rubs his hand over his mouth and then nods curtly before marching ahead of me and back into my office.

I close the door behind me and reach for my tape.

“I just need your arms, shoulders, and neck. I’ll start with your shoulders.”

I briskly and professionally measure Vaughn’s broad shoulders, down his arms, and then his wrists, all from behind.

Which is a relief because he can’t see the flush on my cheeks. Why is he so…sexy?

I take my notes and quickly measure his neck.

Before I can back away, Vaughn spins around, grips my hair in a fist, and plants his lips on mine in a kiss that makes my knees turn to jelly.

Holy shit, the man can kiss. But I push back and breathlessly ask, “Why did you do that?”

His green eyes shine with lust, but they haven’t lost their look of frustration.

“Because you’re sexy, and I might have lost my head for a minute.”

I narrow my eyes. “I don’t like you.”

“I don’t like you, either.”

“Great.” I jump on him, frame his face in my palms, and give as good as I just got. His hands move to my ass, holding me against him as we plunder each other’s mouths and kiss as if it’s our last dying wish. As if we couldn’t stop if we wanted to.

And I don’t want to.

He spins and lowers me to my desk, and my senses return.

“Hold up.” I press a hand to his chest, and he stops immediately.

“What’s wrong? I’m sorry, I thought you were okay with this—”

“I’m fine. It’s okay. But I’m not doing this on my desk at work. I can’t do that.”