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  But now his piercing eyes missed nothing as they touched down on the decanter, with only an inch of brandy left in it, to the shot glass in front of her, empty. His jaw tightened.

  And her stomach slipped, all the way down to her tippy-toasted toes. Because she knew what he was going to say.

  “I thought you don’t drink,” he said.

  Yep. That was what she thought he’d say. And she didn’t drink. Anymore.

  Mostly.

  Except the rare occasion when her courage and bravado and toughness failed her. It’d all been slipping for some time now, and she’d needed a boost.

  A liquid boost. “I’m off duty.”

  “I can see that.”

  She carefully put away the brandy and washed the two glasses, extremely aware of him watching her. With equal deliberateness, she walked toward the doorway, intending to get her purse and call for a cab, but she came to a dilemma.

  He still stood there, and despite her walking directly toward him, he didn’t move aside, leaving her with the choice of asking him to move, or touching him.

  She wanted to touch him.

  All over.

  Naked.

  With her fingers and her tongue, and then her fingers some more.

  But since that was undoubtedly the brandy talking, she bit her lip rather than say so. She was sloshed, yes, but she knew him. He wouldn’t have sought her out unless he needed something done in regard to work, so chances were that he was thoroughly disgusted, annoyed, or just plain pissed off. Knowing it, she averted her gaze and didn’t look directly into his face.

  His gorgeous face.

  But then their toes touched, and she was forced to tip her head back and glance up at him.

  He merely arched a brow, silent.

  The bastard, forcing her to make a move either way. Except in his eyes she did not find disgust, annoyance, or temper.

  Just . . . oh, God . . . heat. Such bone-melting heat that her knees wobbled. “If you’ll excuse me.” She accompanied this request by moving into him, certain that he would fall over backward in order to get out of her way before they touched.

  He didn’t. In fact, he didn’t move, which had her shoulder brushing his chest. “Brody, seriously. If you’ll just . . .”

  This time he shifted, not away, but into her, just enough that she couldn’t have gotten by him if she wanted to.

  More than her shoulder touched him now; it was a full body contact, her front to his, and she froze to the spot, barraged by the memory of the last time they’d had full frontal contact.

  When she’d kissed him.

  When he’d kissed her back.

  It had been unlike any kiss in recent memory, and that wasn’t just the alcohol clouding her thoughts, but the utter truth.

  He kissed like no other.

  And she wanted another. Too bad her pride gripped her by the lapels and straightened her wobbly legs. “You’re in my way.”

  “Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

  “About Shayne and Dani?”

  “No.” Leaning in, he forced her back against the doorway and planted a hand on either side of her face.

  Suddenly it was her turn to shrink back from the contact. Not because she didn’t want to touch him, because oh, God she did, but because she was just tipsy enough to know that she wouldn’t be able to stop at one touch.

  “The kiss,” he said, his mouth only a whisper from hers. “Should we talk about the kiss?”

  She licked her lips and shook her head, her gaze locked on his mouth. “I don’t think talking about that is a very good idea right now.”

  “You sure?” His mouth was tight. Grim. Worried, she realized with surprise.

  “Because we’re employer and employee,” he murmured. “And it was wrong for me to let it happen.”

  Okay, it was about guilt. She got it now, though she wished she didn’t. He didn’t want her to sue him for sexual harassment. Funny, because she’d been the one doing the harassing. “Don’t worry, it was nothing.”

  He just looked at her, and finally she dropped eye contact because holding eye contact and all this body contact at the same time was pretty much nearly as good as sex. It was certainly causing the same reactions within her body. If he only knew . . .

  With a low oath, he abruptly pulled away and turned his back.

  Yeah, he did know.

  “Get your stuff,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll drive you home.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Just get your things.”

  Fine. If he needed to assuage his guilt, she’d let him save her the cab fare. Crossing the lounge for her purse, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Eyes glossy, cheeks flushed.

  Nipples hard.

  He’d seen, of course. He always saw, and no doubt, her body’s reaction to him had freaked him out. Good to know some things never changed. With a sigh, she grabbed her purse and walked out ahead of him, head high, hoping he was watching her pretty damn fantastic ass and kicking himself for being so stupid as to let her get away.

  Chapter 22

  Shayne carried Dani through the lobby. He had a strand of her hair in his mouth and her belt was cutting his ribs. But she felt warm and soft, and was looking at him as if she wanted to jump his bones.

  “Shayne?”

  “Yeah?”

  She looped her arms around his neck and grinned at him. “Have I mentioned I like it when you carry me?”

  She had brandy breath, and he still wanted to kiss her.

  “Shayne?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I also like it when you look at me like I’m someone special to you. Because you’re someone special to me.”

  “You’re going to be sorry you admitted that when you’re sober.”

  “Why?”

  “Because when you’re sober you don’t like me as much, unless we’re in bed.”

  Her smile faded as she stared up at him. “Then I must be a very stupid woman when I’m sober.”

  He used his foot to open the door to the tarmac. A gust of wind rolled over them and he hunched over her to protect her from it, which effectively brought his face closer to hers.

  She sighed. “Very stupid.”

  He took her down to the first hangar, where he’d had his Cessna fueled up for their trip.

  Inside the plane she looked around. “It’s tiny,” she said in an extremely small voice. “Very tiny.”

  “It’s a six-seater.” He plopped her down across the two seats behind the pilot seat, then grabbed a blanket and spread it over her. “Plenty big enough.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m assuming you got yourself in this condition so you can sleep through the flight.”

  “Well, there’s that . . .”

  He turned back and looked down at her, so sweetly sprawled in the seats. “And what else?”

  She covered her eyes.

  Huh. He crouched beside her. “Dani?”

  Uncovering her eyes, she hit him with the full potency of her gaze, which if he’d been standing would have staggered him.

  “Can you handle the truth?” she whispered.

  No. “Yes.”

  “You’re freaking me out as much as this flight is.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this.”

  “Talk to me, Dani.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that Sky High Air exists all because of you? That without you it wouldn’t exist?”

  “Because that’s not true.”

  “It’s your money.”

  “And without it, we’d have come up with something else.”

  “You handle all the client relations. You bring in all the clients.”

  “I’m president of operations. You know that.”

  “You are Sky High Air.”

  He shook his head. “Why are we having this conversation?”

  “Becau