“But …” I rub my lips together. “I worry that our personal relationship might get in the way of our professional one.”
“Then so be it. He asked for it. We give our clients exactly what they want. As long as it doesn’t damage their reputation, of course.”
I mull it over. “I’m not sure I’m the right person for this.”
“He specifically requested you for his PR contact, and I’m not losing out on this job.” She taps the papers. “You’re taking this. End of story.”
“Or else?” I say jokingly, but when I see her stern face, I lean back in my chair.
“You know what else. This is your chance to prove yourself. That’s all I’m giving you.” She nods and then walks off to her office.
I take a deep breath and look through the endless stack of mishaps my brother’s had these past few years. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many negative articles about one person—unless they were a goddamn criminal, which we don’t work with of course.
Well, my brother is just one stop short of being a criminal, if you ask me. To this day, I’m still surprised he isn’t behind bars after what he did.
Letting out a breath, I pick up the heavy stack of papers and place them on the other end of the desk so I can start sifting through them and find the problem areas as well as the very limited positive notes.
Suddenly, my phone rings, and when I pick up, I immediately hear someone laugh in the background. Oh boy, this better not be one of those prank calls because I could cut a bitch right now.
“Hey, sis.” His voice is low and deep, like he’s uber-serious. Or just making fun of me.
“Oh, god,” I say.
“What?” he says, chuckling.
“What do you want?”
“I’m just calling you so we can talk. What’s the problem?”
“You are my problem.” I sigh. “Chris, I don’t have time for your prank calls right now.”
“Aww … you don’t have time for your stepbrother now?”
“Stop saying that word,” I growl.
“Why? Don’t like it?”
I bite my lip to prevent more ammo from spilling out that he’ll happily use against me. It’s as if he enjoys this.
“Why are you calling?” I ask with the nicest voice I can muster.
“I wanted to see if you got my package yet. It’s big, you know.” For a second, my heart stops beating because, for some reason, I think of another big package. I’m sure that was his intention.
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Good, because I don’t want you to feel like I’m leaving you hanging. I never leave my ladies hanging.” My skin heats up, and I don’t know why, but I hate it. I can almost hear him smirk on the other end of the line.
“Stop it,” I say.
“Stop what? I’m talking about the delivery to your work address.”
“Right …”
“What did you think I was talking about?” he muses. “Oh … sis, you know that ain’t right.”
“Chris, seriously? Yes, I got your package.”
He snorts into his phone, and something tells me he’s trying to contain his laughter. Jesus, he’s such a kid.
“God, you’re going to be a handful,” I groan.
“More than a handful,” he says. “More than you can handle.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” I say. “You’re not funny, Chris. Just get to the point.”
“I’m not trying to be funny, sis. I’m bloody serious.”
“Oh, so bloody,” I whisper, which makes him laugh. I don’t know why, but hearing him laugh makes me smile too, even though I still hate him.
“So, you’re taking the job then?” he says.
I take a deep breath. I don’t like admitting defeat. “Yes.”
He cheers out loud, as if he’s genuinely happy. “Good, that’s great news!”
“Mmhmm … for you, yeah.”
“Aw, now, sis, don’t be mad. I need you.” He imitates this cutesy voice to tempt me, and I swear it’s not working. “I promise I’ll be good to you,” he says.
I somehow know that statement couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Right, so, since you’re my client now, I want to discuss a few media-related things. Do you have some time this week?”
“Babe, I have time for you any day of the week. And if I don’t, I’ll make time,” he growls. The way he says it, as if he’s determined to get close to me again, makes me a little apprehensive.
“I hope we can keep the business aspect separated from the private stuff.”
“Oh, I’ll promise you I’ll be discreet. And private. Very private.” I swear I can hear him grin.
“Okay …” I lick my lips, unsure of what to think of all this.
I know what he’s doing, but I’m not going to fall into that trap again. He’s teasing me, making me flustered, even though I still despise him. He won’t get away with it that easily, and I won’t let him tempt me again.
“How about tomorrow?”
“How about today?” he retorts, clearing his throat as if he means business.
“All right.” I grab my agenda and pen. “Name the time.”
“Now.”
His voice is so rough all of the sudden that it shuts me up for a second. I’ve never heard him demand something. At least, not from me … or me in general.
Dammit. I can’t think of him that way. Not ever again.
“Fine; I’ll stop by when I’m finished with the paperwork.”
“I’ll see you in about an hour then. At the racing course. In my room,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Great, can’t wait to see you …” He muffles a laugh. “Sis.”
Before I can respond, he hangs up the phone.
“Oh, fuck you!” I growl at my phone, even though he’s no longer on the other end of the line. I smack it down on the table, and the whole office is looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
They’re probably right, though. Chris makes me lose my mind.
This is gonna be a long day.
Chapter 4
Emily
The moment I step into his changing room at the racetrack, a thick fog with the smell of sweat and spicy shower gel drifts in my direction, causing me to cough and pinch my nose. His leather suit and helmet have been casually thrown onto the table in front of me, and his sloppy, muddy boots sit right below that. Dirt covers the entire floor. What a pig.
“Chris?” I call out as I walk in and look around.
Everywhere I look, tools and motorcycle parts are scattered around the room. I thought this was only a dressing room for the racers, but it almost seems like Chris has made this his home. I guess he just loves the sport so much; he can’t even leave this place.
“Hey.” I hear his voice behind me, but the moment I turn around, I almost stumble and fall back. I barely manage to catch myself by holding onto the table while I slap a hand in front of my eyes.
He’s completely naked.
Like, muscular-butt-and-big-dick naked.
I’m not kidding about the big dick part. Jesus. I can’t get the image out of my mind.
Was it half-hard? Shit. I shouldn’t be thinking about that, but damn, it was one big cock. It almost makes me want to take another peek, which also makes me want to slap myself for thinking just that.
I can’t think of him that way. He’s a bastard. And my stepbrother.
And a giant piece of man-meat dangling in front of my eyes.
Goddammit.
“You can open your eyes now,” he says, laughing a bit.
“Stop laughing,” I say, lowering my hand a bit.
He tucks the edge of his towel under what he has just wrapped around his waist. For a second, it crosses my mind that it’s just too bad, and then I shake my head and force myself to forget about what I just saw … what’s hidden underneath.
I don’t remember it being that big.
He steps closer, which makes me back away a bit because I don’t want him to see me blush.
“What’s the matter, sis?” He smirks, and even though I try to avert my eyes, they can’t help but be drawn to him. His body is like a magnet, so slick, his abs rippling as he moves, and demanding attention.