“Can I hope for a kiss?”
“No.”
Hunter pouted, even though he hadn’t expected her to say anything else.
She folded her arms across her chest. “If we do it, it’s a business arrangement, like a little Christmas gift for my mom.”
“Why does it matter so much to her?”
Chloe sighed again. “The daughter of a friend, and I use the term loosely, just got engaged. My mom and Maggie are the kind of friends who compete over every little thing, and since I’m not engaged, it looks like this round is going to Maggie. Maggie will rub it in, gleefully. I want to give my mom a comeback.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Changing your mind?”
“Not a chance,” Hunter said. He closed the distance between them and took a deep breath of her perfume. It was the good stuff. He reached up to touch a fingertip to her chin. “But I reserve the right to break the rules.”
“Just try it,” she said, challenge in her tone.
“I intend to,” he replied, then bent to brush his lips across hers. He felt her catch her breath. “We have to make it look good, don’t you think?” he murmured, staring into her eyes. “And it’s possible that we won’t get it right the first time.”
She almost laughed. “You’re not suggesting that we practice.”
“I am.” He smiled and, incredibly, Chloe smiled back.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I try. I really do.”
She laughed then. “I suppose you do have a certain charm.”
“Thank you very much.”
“Is it too much to hope that you clean up well?”
“Not at all.” Hunter surveyed Chloe, with her lips parted and her eyes shining, and he just couldn’t resist. He slid his hand around her nape, felt the softness of her skin and the silk of her hair, then exerted the tiniest bit of pressure. She could pull away and he’d let her go, but he was betting on her doing otherwise.
It was sweet to be right. Chloe leaned against him, her hands on his shoulders. She smiled as she held his gaze. Her thighs brushed against his, so smooth and firm that he wanted to run his hands over her. Positive reinforcement, that’s what she needed. Some encouragement to surrender to impulse more often.
“So this is just practice?” she murmured, her gaze locked on his mouth.
“Absolutely.” He nodded. “We want to get it right. We need it to look good.”
“Practice does make perfect,” she said and took off her glasses. Hunter heard them land on the conference table but didn’t look. She didn’t close her eyes, at least.
“My anthem exactly,” he murmured.
“You don’t practice,” she teased.
“I do, all the time. But I should warn you that the best practicing happens in the shower.”
She laughed, surprised into it. “You can’t practice everything there.”
“Everything important. Dance moves. Karaoke.”
“Cooking?”
“I don’t cook.”
“Knitting?”
“Not a knitter.”
“Small engine repair?”
Hunter laughed despite himself. “Not my thing. The grease gets under your nails.”
Much to his surprise, Chloe sobered. “Kissing?” He felt her fingertips on his jaw and her breasts almost against his chest. Her perfume flooded his senses and her eyes, her eyes were filled with both amusement and desire. He was snared. It was perfect, a moment that could last forever, an instant filled with desire and yearning that he didn’t ever want to end.
“Oh, definitely,” he managed to say, remembering that she was waiting for his reply. “Some of the best kisses, in my experience, happen in the shower.”
“Too bad,” she said quietly. “We’ll just have to make do.”
There was a glint in her eye, just the barest warning, then she kissed him. Hunter was shocked and thrilled. He’d never expected Chloe to make the first move, but it was all fine by him. She tugged him closer, making a little incoherent sound of need that got him right where he lived. He caught her closer and angled his mouth over hers, deepening their kiss into something to remember.
If he was arguing his case, he was going to be as persuasive as possible.
The no-kissing rule would be the first to go.
Chloe really had been missing out.
This was the kind of kiss she’d dreamed of all her life. Didn’t it figure that it came from Hunter, the last guy in the world that she should be kissing? She wanted to lean into it and let that kiss take them wherever it would—and she had a good idea where that would be—but she pulled away with an effort.
She watched him take a quick breath then push his hand through his hair. He looked startled and his gaze clung to hers as if he was seeing her for the first time. “I don’t blame Mr. Wonderful for wanting you back,” he said, his voice husky.
“Josh Harley,” she said, even the sound of her ex’s name bringing her back to reality. “His name is Josh Harley.”
“Should I take notes?”
“I’ll send them to you,” she said, then added his contact information to her phone with her usual efficiency. “Here’s the invitation and the schedule for Friday night.” She sent both to him with a flick of her fingertips, hearing his phone chime as they were received.
“How about more practice?” he asked, just because he thought he should.
She gave him a look. “I think we’ve nailed that.”
She’d been sure he’d argue that point with her, but Hunter checked his phone. Chloe felt an unreasonable disappointment, but told herself to get over it.
One kiss would have to do them.
“Where’s the master plan?”
“What master plan?”
“For your trip home. How long are you here? What other things are we going to do together? Where will I meet you and when? Where are you staying?” Hunter shook his head. “If it’s a performance, I need the script.”
It wasn’t an unreasonable request.
Chloe hesitated only a moment before sending Hunter her calendar for her visit to New York.
He scrolled through it, then started to laugh. “Call you the impulsive one. Do you really follow a schedule like this every day?”
She felt herself bristling again. There was nothing wrong with being organized. “It’s how I get everything done.”
“Right.” He scrolled through it. “Every hour of every day is present and accounted for. I need a nap just reading this. Oh, look, you forgot to note when you’d brush your teeth. Morning and night?” He looked up at her, his eyes sparkling, and she wanted to deck him.
“I knew you’d make fun of it.” She started to pack up her laptop. “You should send me your plan.”
“I have five eight-hour shifts every week at F5F,” Hunter said, without referencing anything. “Four hours, one to five, in the weight room Tuesday to Saturday. The first two hours are with Nate’s vets.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” He brushed off the question in a way that was already becoming familiar. He was evasive about personal questions and Chloe wondered why. “Monday and Thursday, I work six to eight on the rock climbing wall, usually as a belayer, then eight to ten in couples’ yoga with Sonia. Friday and Saturday, I’m typically at the dance club eight to midnight and often after that, but off the clock. For these next two weeks, though, I’ve pulled afternoons in the weight room on Sundays and Mondays, as well as Saturday and Sunday morning on the rock climbing wall.” He fell silent.