Page 10 of One Weekend in Quebec City

Smooth, Shelby, real smooth.

His eyes, those unfairly blue eyes, gleam with a mixture of appreciation and, dare I say, a hint of challenge.

The cocky bastard knows.

He straightens slightly, turning to address the room as he saunters back to the head of the table, but his gaze keeps drifting back to me as if to make sure I’m paying attention.

No risk there. My eyes are glued to his ass.

Caught.

He chuckles.

Asshole.

“That’s a good question, Shelby,”he says, his voice effortlessly commanding again. “Yes, physical beauty is a given. This is, after all, a magazine that celebrates visual aesthetics. But we’re also looking for something more. A sense of confidence, a spark, an ability to connect with the customer. We want the reader to pick up the magazine and feel like they have something to aspire to. Does this person showcase our product? Not just see a beautiful man or woman, but imagine themselves experiencing that same kind of adventure, that same sense of luxury and escape during the holidays.”

He pauses, his watchful gaze lingering on me for a beat longer than necessary, sending a cascade of shivers down my spine. “We’re looking for a story, Shelby. Just like you are.”

The room falls silent, everyone watching our interaction, and I feel like I’m back in high school. I shift self-consciously in my seat as Spencer casually strolls back to his original spot and returns to business.

Then, I realize what just happened.

He did that intentionally to showcase his command of not just the business at hand but also those who are with him, me included. The man knows how to work a room. And he knows his business.

And then, because that thought is given an opening to slither its way to the forefront, my mind goes there immediately. Am I here for an exclusive with him, or just to feed his ego? Maybe heisa bit of an asshole.

Tension, both professional and otherwise, fills me. For a brief second, I’m back in Kingston in my tiny office, staring at the lake outside. If my parents were alive to bear witness, they would no doubt be mortified by what Ijustdid in front of this man’s entire team.

But what I see right now in my mind is not them, but Marika’s grinning face, no doubt reminding me to choose my wardrobe carefully so I can handle any eventuality, including the boss.

Hmm… maybe two can play this game.

ChapterFive

Shelby

While I sit and watch the rest of the meeting play out, this time focusing on the meeting and the businessman I’m here to interview, I take notes. It gives me time to come to my senses. It also leaves an opening for me to wonder if I’ve completely screwed up.

My mind, hell, not even that, but my entire body, has become a threat. It doesn’t matter how much I try, how much I force myself to focus on each member of his team and what they’re saying. It’s as though my brain has split. One side is doing what it’s supposed to while the other zeros in on Spencer, on every aspect of his attire, his demeanor, the way his mouth moves as he speaks, and his eyes light up when he’s excited about a particular suggestion.All ofmy bodily responses are attuned to the man at the front of the room. Everything sizzles like there’s a live wire under my skin. My body is warm. My breasts tingle. I feel flush just staring at him. I’ve never behaved like this before.

And I can’t stop it.

This is a mistake. Why? Because Spencer Hollis is not used to rejection. And for the good of my career, I have to reject him. I came here to do a job, not tofuckthe job.

“Shelby? We have coffee in the next room. Perhaps you could do with a top up while the models are getting ready for the test shoot?”Spencer startles me again, though I make sure it’s lessobviousthis time.

He starts walking toward me, each step slow, decisive, almost like he’s stalking me. Then he’s standing right in front of me, gesturing toward the door but wearing a knowing grin, his scent curling around me.

Yup, the bastard knows I’m attracted to him.

“Um... “I respond, almost unintelligibly, which only seems to cause that slight turn of his lip to increase. “That sounds like a great idea. Thank you.”

When I stand to follow the others from the room, my legs feel a little unsteady, like I’ve been sitting too long in one position. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me. I smooth down my skirt, a nervous habit I’ve never been able to shake, and offer a tight smile to the room, a silent apology for my earlier lapse in professionalism.

Spencer’s hand brushes against my lower back, a fleeting touch, barely there, yet it sends a jolt of electricity through me. I stumble slightly, and he’s quick to steady me, his hold lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary. My skin tingles where we connect, the warmth spreading like wildfire.

“Careful,”he murmurs, his voice a low rumble close to my ear, his breath hot against my already over-heated skin. It’s a casual gesture, the kind a friend might make, but the context, the tension that’s been simmering between us since last night, makes it feel… charged. Dangerous.

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