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I raised an eyebrow. “Cold shower and a pack of cigarettes? You kept your word, Alec. I’m impressed.”

“Aye, and I have the blue balls to prove it.” He scowled and muttered, “Despite jacking off twice in the shower.”

Immediately, my mind conjured an image of him standing under the spray, his muscular ass flexing while his hand worked his cock. Lust bolted straight to my groin, but I forced myself to focus on the conversation. The sooner we slept with Chloe, the sooner we could put this whole trip behind us.

“How was she today?” I asked.

“Honestly, not good.” His air of sexual frustration disappeared, replaced with one of concern. “I worry you may be right about me charming her. She seemed disoriented this morning. Then her mother called, and things went even further to hell.”

“What happened?”

He ran through the events of the day, starting with Chloe feeling ill at breakfast and ending with her mother’s ultimatum.

When he finished, I let out a low whistle. “Do you think she’s serious about disowning Chloe?”

“She sounded pretty damn serious. And from the look on Chloe’s face afterward, I’d have to say, yeah, she meant it.”

“How close is Chloe with her family?”

Alec tilted his head, and his voice was lightly reproving when he said, “All that information was in the background check report I left on your desk when we hired her.”

“You hired her.”

“Did you read the report?”

“Refresh my memory.”

He gave me a look, but said, “She’s an only child. Her father died when she was young. The mother is a real estate broker, but her Manhattan apartment is far too nice for someone who sells a few modest properties a year. She seems to have made a career out of building wealth through marriage.” He snorted. “It’s always the serial monogamists who have the most problems with other people’s sex lives.”

I mulled over this information, which was indeed new since, as Alec was all too aware, I hadn’t read his report. Between his words and little hints Chloe had dropped here and there, it was clear her childhood had been one of genteel neglect—a child raised by nannies and day camps.

People with that kind of upbringing often ended up shy or cold. But Chloe was neither. Everyone in the New York office loved her. She was forever bringing in donuts or little treats for the staff. One time she even bought the receptionist a plant in a rainbow-colored pot so outrageously bright I’d done a double take when I passed it.

“What’s this bloody thing?” I’d asked.

Chloe had looked up from arranging the leaves. “Oh! Mr. MacKay.” Her cheeks had turned bright pink, and she swallowed several times before saying, “It’s a plant.”

“I can see that, Miss Drexel. I meant the pot astronauts can see from the space station.”

At first, she frowned, her baby blue gaze filled with confusion. Then she let out a nervous laugh. “It is colorful, I’ll give you that. It represents the Rainbow Bridge. You know, for pets.” When I continued staring at her blankly, she said, “You don’t know.”

I shook my head.

She darted a look over her shoulder, making the blond waves she’d tied in a low ponytail swish over her generous breasts. When she faced me, she lowered her voice. “Karen’s cat passed away, so I wanted to cheer her up. There’s this poem that says pets cross a Rainbow Bridge into Heaven when they die, and they wait for their owners in a green meadow full of sunshine.”

It took a minute for her explanation to sink in—probably because I was busy staring at her mouth. That pouty, pink mouth that made my dick twitch even as she talked of receptionists and cats.

“Mr. MacKay?” She nibbled her lower lip, anxiety hovering in her gaze. “I can move the plant if it’s too bright for the office.”

I wanted to yell at her to stop that nonsense. To stop making the whole world fantasize about fucking her mouth. Instead, I’d muttered “keep it” and walked away before I could kiss her or fire her.

Alec made a sound, drawing me back to the present. “Would you look at that?” he asked, pointing to the TV, where referees dragged two shouting players apart. “These refs are out of control. Just let the lads play, you clatty bastards.”

“Do you think she’ll go back to New York?” I asked.

He turned the TV off and looked at me, his green gaze far too perceptive for his seemingly casual pose. “I’m not giving her the option,” he said simply.

“She’s a modern woman. She’s used to making her own decisions.” And she could easily decide we weren’t worth ruining relationships with her family, especially after she found out what we really wanted from her. Chloe might fantasize about us, but there was a difference between indulging in a hot daydream and acting on it.