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He reared his head back at her words. “What the bloody hell is wrong with everyone today?” Attacking his leadership skills, questioning his ability to be civil. Iain could do civil…when he put his mind to it. “I’ll be myself, thank you. If you don’t like it, sod off, Ames.”
She wagged her finger. “Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about. Do the opposite of that.” When she disappeared through the door, he faced the window and looked out at his three-million-dollar view. Three-point-two-five, if one wanted to be technical. And when it came to money, Iain was always technical.
The morning sun slanted through the tinted window. If he stood at the right angle, he could catch a glimpse of jagged brown mountains in the distance. The palm trees lining the street below swayed in the breeze, reminding him that he was in the middle of a desert. He never grew tired of seeing this. Nothing in Vegas was real—it was all a facade. The buildings, the people—all transitory. And Iain loved every bloody bit of it.
He heard the door open, and after a long pause, close. Her footsteps were hesitant and light across the gold onyx floor.
“Hello.” Her voice was soft, feminine. Young.
Iain slowly turned, a smile fixed on his face. But as he locked eyes on Bry
Iain thought he knew everything about Bry
His gaze moved over her, taking in her slight frame. Then his eyes swept over her again. And a third time. With every pass, he noticed something different. The color of her hair wasn’t merely brown—it was tobacco brown with burnished gold highlights. Her eyes weren’t ordinary blue—they were navy. She wore leather flip-flops. Her toenails were varnished the same shade as her turquoise necklace. She carried a black binder in one hand, like a schoolgirl.
Lightly ta
Bry
She’d pulled her wavy hair into a low ponytail, but a lone curl refused to be confined and brushed against her jaw. She appeared almost fey. A wisp of a woman who might blow away with the gentlest breeze.
And he needed to focus.
He moved toward her and buttoned his jacket, keeping his gaze trained on her. “I’m Iain Chapman.”
“You’re British.” She made it sound like an accusation.
“Observant, aren’t you?”
She opened her mouth, but didn’t speak. Taking a breath, she tried again. “I try to be. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Chapman. My name’s Bry
“Call me Iain. I’ve been told I require a management makeover. Are you the woman to give me what I need?” He hadn’t intended the i
Her gaze fluttered from his throat to his eyes. “I’m not sure. To be honest, I’m not really a teacher. I just write the curriculum.”
He knew that, of course. Had paid Cassandra Delaney a few thousand extra to have Bry
Well, this was new. Iain was used to women flirting with him. And he wasn’t foolish enough to believe they were attracted to his delightful personality. Although he did all right in the looks department, his face wasn’t what lured women, either. No, Iain’s main draw was his fat bank account. He was fine with that. Made things simpler. Everyone walked away happy. There were no expectations, no fuss. No emotional ties.
But this woman wasn’t acting like the others, and he couldn’t say why that intrigued him so much.
Bry
When he took a step toward her, she tensed. What did she think, he was going to make a lunge for her? He never dreamed she’d be so skittish. Or that he’d find it so compelling. Something in the way she tensed like prey made him feel very much the predator.
He found he liked that feeling quite a lot.
A knock sounded at the door and Amelia peered in. “Would you like some tea, Miss Campbell?”
Bry
While she was looking away, Iain took the opportunity to study her breasts. The blouse was deceptively sheer. Tilting his head, he tried to see through the crinkly material, but he couldn’t even detect the outline of her bra. It was maddening and enticing at the same time. As soon as Ames shut the door, Bry
Swallowing audibly, she raised the black binder, clutching it to her chest and blocking his view. “Why don’t we get started?” she asked.
“Yes, why don’t we?”
She stared at him for a beat, then Bry
Iain tried to get a peek at what she jotted down, but she snapped the notebook closed before he could read it. “Are you taking notes on me, love?”
Bry
“Actionable, how? Like we’d clear the desk and have at it?”
Her brows drew together and formed a small V. “That comment would definitely qualify as actionable.”
He leaned down, caught a whiff of perfume—vanilla and something floral. “Pretend you never heard it.” Iain breathed her in. Absolutely delicious.
Her lips had parted slightly, but she didn’t move away. Bry
“The key to ru
“And here I thought the key to ru
“Do you always use that language?” Bry
“Yeah. I don’t believe in censoring myself.” He still hadn’t moved away, was still leaning toward her. Her shallow breaths caused her chest to rapidly rise and fall, and that became the focus of Iain’s attention. Her breasts were so tiny, he’d be able to suck on the whole damn thing. The thought made his mouth water.