she was still sleeping. Maybe she was dreaming—that Trevor Sinclair was propositioning her...
Her mouth fell open, her lips—which were nearly as red as her hair—parted on a gasp. Her pale skin finally flushed with color while her pale eyes also darkened as her pupils dilated.
He had her. He’d caught the notorious ice queen off guard with his remark. She wasn’t so cool now. He had flustered the usually unflappable publicist. He laughed. “Not that kind of proposition, Allison.”
She shook her head, tumbling the red waves of her hair around her slender shoulders. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”
Trev was standing close to her, so close that he knew everybody who had called her the ice queen, himself included, was wrong. He felt the heat of her body even though he hadn’t touched her. He really wanted to touch her. Hell, he really wanted her.
So he turned and slid onto the table right next to where she stood, and his knee bumped against her thigh. She stepped back, though.
She obviously did not want him touching her.
He chuckled again at her reaction. “You thought I was propositioning you for sex.”
“Of course I didn’t think that,” she haughtily replied, her pointy little chin lifting in disdain.
“What if I was?” he wondered.
All restless energy, he stood up again, and he was close enough that his suddenly very tense body brushed against hers. How could he want her even knowing that she was the mole? How the hell could he feel any desire for her let alone so much that it had tension winding tightly inside him?
Of course, even though she was the mole, she was stunning. Maybe trying to seduce the truth out of her wasn’t the bad idea he’d thought it was when Simon had tried it with Bette, and Ronan with Muriel.
“Would you be interested?” he asked.
She blinked as if trying to clear her vision before staring up at him. “Would I be interested?” she repeated. “In sex with you?”
And he almost thought she was considering it—until she laughed. That laugh—clear and sharp—cut his pride like a knife.
“Why is that so damn funny?” he asked.
“Because you’re joking,” she said purposefully.
Trev was suddenly very serious—so serious that he leaned a little closer to her. Their bodies brushed again. Her breasts touched his torso, just below his chest. He felt the mad pounding of her heart and the heat of her body again. She definitely was not an ice queen. He wasn’t getting frostbite at all. He was getting hot.
Damn hot for the unscrupulous little publicist.
So hot that he couldn’t resist his impulse to reach out. He slid his arm around her slim waist, and she moved her body more fully against his, clearly wanting him back. Then he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
Her lips were like silk, so smooth and soft. He nipped and nibbled at them, devouring her as that desire consumed him. He wanted her lips to part, so he could deepen the kiss, so he could slide his tongue inside her mouth.
But he wanted more than that inside her. He wanted to bury his throbbing cock inside her, too. He’d never been so turned on before by just a kiss.
But she wasn’t just kissing him...
His scalp tingled as he felt her hands in his hair, sliding through it, clutching his head to hers. Then, finally, she parted her lips, deepening the kiss.
And he knew her image was just that: Allison McCann was no ice queen. She was all fire and passion.
He tasted so damn good, just like she’d thought he would, like coffee and sugar. His tongue slid between her lips, stroking over hers. She would probably taste like the mint she’d swallowed when he’d jerked her into his arms. While one of his arms was wound around her waist, the other was around her back, as his hand cupped the back of her head, holding it against his as he kissed her.
And her fingers were in his hair, tangled in the thick strands of it. She wanted to slide her fingers down his face, over his muscular chest to the buckle of his belt.
She wanted to undress him. Wanted him to undress her...
She wanted more than a kiss. She wanted him to release the tension he’d built inside her. She wanted his tongue other places than her mouth.
She couldn’t believe that she would want that, that she would want him. And it seemed mutual. She felt his erection straining against the fly of his jeans as he pressed his long, muscular body against hers—as he kissed her.
Trevor Sinclair was kissing her. And she was kissing him back.
That wasn’t just unprofessional—it was career and emotional suicide. Just the kiss.
If they did any more, if they crossed the line any further...
She stepped back, jerking herself out of his arms.
“No,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady despite how hard she was shaking with desire.
Breathing hard, he stared at her blankly, his brow furrowed beneath the fall of the hair she’d tousled with her fingers. “What?”
“If your proposition is for sex, my answer is no,” she clarified. And she fought to still her trembling. She couldn’t afford to let him see how badly he’d affected her, how badly she wanted him, because then he might call her bluff. He might pull her back into his arms and prove that she wanted him just as badly as he’d seemed to want her.
But she must have fooled him because he nodded. “That’s right. I forgot that you said you hate lawyers.”
She flinched with regret that she’d let that slip out once in a meeting with him and Stone Michaelsen. That had been nearly as unprofessional as letting Trevor kiss her. And kissing him back.
That had just been stupid, and Allison was rarely stupid. But she’d wondered for a long time what it would feel like to have that wide mouth of his against hers. It had been even better than she’d thought. What would it be like if they’d gone further?
She nearly shivered as sensations raced through her. And now she regretted pulling away as soon as she had. Maybe she should have let the kiss go on...to more.
“So I guess it’s a good thing I might not be a lawyer much longer,” he said.
She sucked in a breath. She hated lawyers but she knew they were necessary, especially good ones like Trevor Sinclair. “Why not? Did you get turned in to the bar association like your partner?”
His brow furrowed.
Maybe he hadn’t known she’d been aware of that. But she had sources everywhere and she couldn’t afford any surprises in her work.
He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything to get reported to the bar,” he said. “And neither did Ronan. That complaint was bogus.”
She wasn’t so certain about that. But she nodded as if she agreed with him. “Then I don’t understand.”
“Somebody forged those documents they claimed were from Ronan’s case files—”
“No,” she interrupted him. She didn’t want to talk about his partners. “If you’re not losing your license, why won’t you be a lawyer much longer?”
He chuckled. “I’m not losing my license,” he assured her. “I’ve decided to give up law in order to run for public office.”
Now it made sense the comments she’d overheard his partners making to him as they’d exited the office, all some version of wishing him luck. For a second she’d thought those comments might have been in regard to her. But until he’d kissed her, she hadn’t been able to imagine why he might have needed luck with her.
Unless