Escaping The Bewitching Madness Of His Heart
thout flinching, slammed back three
y count for someone like you," someone
red leaned in with a sly smile, nudging several more bottles h
before the room erupted in la
her watched her with languid intere
uld probably send Madelyn st
p the closest bottle, uncapped it, and took
she wanted to clinch the project and f
letting the empty glass clatter onto the table. Locking eyes with C
d steadiness, though her cheeks were already tinged with red. She dipped into a deep, earnest bow. "I never meant to embarrass
hed up another bottle, unscrewed the cap,
ushed, but she straightene
er need anything from me, just say the word," she finished,
of annoyance, but Madelyn kept her chin u
warming her veins, she knew it was time t
Mall project, no one fits as well as the Brennan Group. We're not just bringing bottles to the table-we're here
ntrigue replacing his earlier boredom. "Oh? A
etheart, with a body like that, why not give Mr. Yates a show? There's a pole rig
aucous laughter, the ai
ed, his smile turning wicked,
-modest, with nothing daring about it-still f
rely drag, the smoke curling lazily from his li
her hips. "That sounds perfect to me," he remarked, his mouth curled into a wolfish grin. "If I remember right, yo
faltered, her post
r veins or maybe the old humiliation-eac
he said
t her an impatient look. "Didn't you hear Mr. Yates? He as
ire back, to insist
e couldn't risk leaving the Brennan Group, not while Simon's trail
let herself linger in resentment before straightening her shoulders and flashing a smooth, pr
r hairpin free. Her loose, glossy waves tumbled down, f
ned at the edge of the room, squared her shoulder
nd the cold steel and let her body flow, ever
between innocence and dangerous charm-a bre
she radiated a captivating magnetism, transfor
voice piped up from the cluster of men. "Damn,
ike that had long si
uning them out, moving through th
h, making sure everyone noticed as he dialed Br
? Let's make sure Mr. Mills gets a front-row seat," he announced, al
er chest arched upward in a striking display, caug
Miss Dixon is-putting on this special performance for
ered, suddenly rigid, the music fading in
ng impatient. "What are you stopping
cence, "You don't mind, do you, Mr. Mills? After all, Miss
d the line-until Bryson's voice finally cut through, cold