Instead, I wait for him, and he arches a brow, motioning me forward. I meet his stare, the spark between us undeniable and I say, “Your office. You first.”
His lips quirk slightly, and I think he’s amused. I am not. “As you wish, Ms. Bailey.”
“Stop calling me that,” I chide. “Bella. I’ve always been Bella.”
The quirk widens and he neither agrees nor disagrees with my demand, but he does move forward, walking ahead of me. I fall into step behind him and try not to notice his ass in his perfectly fitted suit. I’m not supposed to look at my boss’ ass, but by keeping my eyes level, I instead notice his broad shoulders and tall frame. Six-foot-three I’ve heard whispered in the hallways because the females in the firm do whisper about Tyler Hawk.
Just not me.
And yet, my body is whispering plenty.
I have this sense that I am about to be caged with a primal animal, but that is more about my reaction to his words than his actions.
The truth is, I am going to be alone with Tyler, and I can’t stop thinking about his reference to his tongue on my body.
Chapter Ten
Bella
I follow Tyler down the hallway toward his office, nerves settling in my belly in a tight little ball. The stiffness of his spine oozes arrogance, but there is an edge to him that I believe to be confirmation of his anger. This realization is a reality check. This would be a good time to get my head out of the bedroom.
This is business, not personal, and I have my job to think about. What happened upstairs with Josh was inappropriate and therefore serious business. Scandal has landed on the steps of Hawk Legal and Tyler carries that load. What if he actually believes Josh hit on me because everyone but him knows that I’ve slept my way to success? The mere idea of such a thing is both appalling and embarrassing, as well as untrue. But the memory of me visiting Tyler’s house and using his master bathroom—I truly saw no other bathroom—does not sit well in my defense, no matter how innocent my intentions were.
I went there that night, worried about him, and now I question where my head was when I made that decision. Thinking about losing my mother, I remind myself. I’d just come off the holidays and it was near the anniversary of her death and I just—well, I wasn’t thinking at all. I mean, I know Tyler Hawk isn’t exactly the kind of man who operates with emotion. I just also know things about him from Dash that perhaps I should not know.
The hallway ends and the fact that Tyler enters his office before me rather than waiting on me sets the tone. He has now transitioned to boss mode instead of whatever else was happening between us, and that’s a comfortable place for me to operate. I know him in boss mode. I know myself in employee mode, albeit one willing to challenge him when, as he said, not many others will. Nevertheless, this is a space we have operated in for years now. I can do this.
Mental pep talk aside, I follow Tyler into his office and I’m in fight mode, determined to defend myself, expecting to find him behind his desk. He is not. He’s this side of his visitors’ chairs, with no indication he plans to move. “Shut the door,” he orders.
As if anyone else is here, I think, but the butterflies in my belly defy my newfound business state of mind. I’m not sure if I’m afraid for my job, or afraid of myself. Nevertheless, I shut the door and lean on the hard surface. “You don’t approve of how I handled Josh.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“I don’t see that you handled him at all,” he replies dryly.
“I was in the process of removing his hand,” I rebut, and it’s the truth. I was in the process.
“Is that the first time he’s hit on you?” he demands, obviously unmoved by my proclamation of impending action.
Damn it, I think, before admitting, “No, but—”
He steps closer, towering over me with his six-foot-three-inch height, no doubt meant to intimidate. “If you’d handled him,” he states, his words chock full of derision, “he wouldn’t repeat his mistake.”
My feathers are officially ruffled, okay they’re long past ruffled, but they’re standing on end, at this point. “That really worked with you.” My sarcasm is oh, so intentional.
“I didn’t touch you,” he counters. “He did.”
“And you think what you said to me was appropriate?" I challenge.
“As we’ve discussed,” he replies, “I value honesty. I assume you do as well. You deserved to know the slippery slope you were walking on.”
“You said—things—twice.”
“Once before you touched me. A second time seemed like an appropriate warning when you touched me, Bella.”
“I’m a touchy-feely person. It’s part of how I communicate.”
“And yet, you’ve never touched me until this past week. And as for how you communicate, what exactly were you trying to say to me, Bella?” His voice is low and raspy, and my nerve endings go nuts.
I slide right past the change in me where he’s concerned, and there has been one. He’s not wrong. For now, though, I focus on the truth I understand. “I was trying to tell you, that I’m an employee and a friend.”
“Friend?” he challenges. “I wonder what that means to Josh? I think your communication skills need work.”
Screw my ruffled feathers. Now I’m angry, too. “You know what?” I snap. “You barged into that situation like a protective bear. I’ve never ever let sex be a part of my job.”
“Of course, you have. You know you get a little more time here or there because you’re a beautiful woman.”
My heart thunders in my chest. He thinks I’m beautiful? And of all things, right now, why is that what I just focused on?
“And I am protective of you, Bella,” he adds, his attention sharply fixated on my face, but his stare is carefully veiled.
I am not moved by his words. I’m actually slightly offended. “Because I’m Dash’s sister,” I state, and it’s not a question. I love my brother, but the weird, almost confrontational friendship between him and Dash, and I’m always in the middle.
“No,” he says without hesitation. “I hired you before Dash was even part of the picture. Dash has nothing to do with anything between us.”
I could read into the “between us” comment in an intimate way, and if I were someone else, I might. But I don’t. I came to Nashville on my own, for a job. Dash followed me, not the other way around. My chin lifts in defiance. “Make no mistake. I can handle myself, Tyler.”
He steps closer, and I can feel the heat of his body, the scent of his cologne, drugging my senses. “Show me,” he challenges. “Handle me now.”
A summersault of energy overwhelms me, my stomach feeling every second of the wicked twist that follows. “What does that even mean?”
He shocks me then, his hands sliding to my waist, a rush of heat between us, fire in my belly. “Handle me now,” he repeats.
It is the first and only time Tyler Hawk has ever touched me, rather than me touching him, and I feel the connection in every part of me. I don’t know what his intent is right now, or what he wants from me, but I know we’re treading on dangerous ground.