Page 51 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

The respect he garners when simply entering a room is a match to my libido every freaking time.

“I tried to catch you,” Gannon says to his brother. “We’re going to have to reschedule this for tomorrow morning. This system keeps freezing and glitching; the tech team doesn’t know what’s happening. Hang on. The connection is flickering again. Fuck …”

The screen goes black.

Jason approaches the computer beneath the screen and turns the volume down. He hits mute before minimizing the screen. He answers the goodbyes from the staff leaving the room.

And then we’re alone.

The energy in the room shifts as he faces me again. The air is thick and warm, perfumed with his cologne. It’s a woodsy scent offset by a slight citrusy note.

It smells like possibilities and danger.

He slips his hands into his pockets and saunters around the room. He nibbles on the inside of his cheek, his brows pulled tight as he thinks.

“If you need me to attend tomorrow's meeting in your place, I can,” I say. “I don’t have anything that can’t be moved.”

“Are you sure you don’t have any personal calls about Friday that you might miss?”

I laugh, my face flushing. “Are we still discussing this?”

He stops on the other side of the oversized table and plants both palms against the stone. He levels his sights on me.

Something is brewing behind those gorgeous green eyes. Whatever it is, it’s causing a storm to roll across his features. The intensity in his gaze makes me shiver.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, keeping my attention pinned on him.

“You signed an NDA to work here, Miss Goodman.”

“Yeah.” I make a face at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, if you’re dating someone new, I need to be sure you’re not dating a competitor. Could be a conflict of interest.”

My chest shakes as I try to hold back laughter. “He’s not new.”

“Oh, really?”

“And he’s not a competitor, so no worries there.”

“You never know someone’s connections.”

He’s prodding, and it’s obvious. It’s also … interesting. We’ve had discussions before about dating—mostly that neither of us date much. But he’s never been so insistent on getting details.

Even though he’s digging in an area that doesn’t concern him, and I’d be pissed as hell if my former bosses acted this way, I don’t mind. Maybe it’s because our relationship is more personal than professional.

Or maybe it’s because the twinkle in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, placing my hands on the table and mirroring his posture. “Are we going to stand here until I break it all down for you?”

“Depends on how long it takes.”

“Might take all day.”

He drops a shoulder and tilts his head as if I’m deliberately being difficult and he doesn’t understand why.

“Who is he?” he asks.

“Do you really want to know?”

“How do you know this guy? How do you know he’s going to be nice to you? Is he safe?”

I sigh, rolling my eyes in frustration. “He’s my grandmother’s neighbor’s grandson. He’s an EMT if it matters. He has no interest in you or your business.” I can’t help myself. “He’s only interested in saving lives and giving people mouth-to-mouth.”

Jason’s eyes blaze.

I’ve hit a nerve. Unintentionally, I’ve struck a chord—one that I believe will have consequences. And by the heat radiating off him, I’m not sure what those consequences may be.

Or what I want them to be.

“Is that what you want?” he asks carefully.

We’re treading into new territory, and every sentence intensifies the tension in the room. My dress clings to my body, stuck to my skin by a sheen of sweat, and my palms slide along the cool stone of the table. The weight of his gaze makes me feel powerful— beautiful —and it’s heady.

“Well, it has been a while,” I say, leaning forward. “Thomas is the perfect candidate to give me what I need.”

Jason licks his lips. “And what do you need, exactly?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Jason moves slowly around the table, his fingertips dusting along the top of the quartz.

Excitement blooms in my stomach, causing my heart to race, and I wonder if I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

My brain hurries to keep up with my body—to settle down the hormones that have flooded my system.

But there’s no stopping my attraction to Jason.

And, by the looks of it, there might be no stopping his attraction to me.

A thought in the back of my brain warns me not to go any further. Jason is my friend and employer—this situation could quickly get out of control. But instincts take over as he stops inches from me and peers at me from nearly a foot above.

We aren’t friends. We aren’t coworkers. We’re a man and a woman.

“Does that bother you?” I ask, my stomach clenching.

My voice is breathier than I’d like—softer and more intimate than it should be. But his vulnerability, the unguarded way he’s looking at me, screws with my head. It sure as hell screws with my libido.

“I’m bothered, all right.” He takes a measured breath. “I’m also your boss.”

“And you’re absolutely not my type.”

“ Oh, whatever .”

I laugh, the moment broken. Relief washes over me as Jason steps back, running a large hand over his head.

“Not being egotistical or anything,” he says, smirking, “but I’m absolutely your type, Chloe.”

“Hate to break the news to you, but you’re not.”

He watches me out of the corner of his eye and pauses as if he’s about to say something. Instead, he fights a smile and heads for the door.

I follow him, knowing he knows I’m a liar. But I also wonder if he realizes that if I had to describe my type, I’d say his name.