Page 2 of Courting the Consequences

“Fair enough,” he smirked and took a sip of the whisky. “That’s smooth,” he commented, licking his lips.

“Macallan,” she answered with a shrug. “Alright, Johnny.” She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “I’ll be honest. I was expecting Scott Wallen and your design team today. I’m a little surprised to see the boss himself.”

Johnny shrugged. “I figured the designs were drawn up, all that was left was to present them to you and sign paperwork.”

“So you thought you’d come reel in the big fish yourself?” she smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“Something like that,” he grinned.

“Alright, let’s see these designs.”

He took another sip of his whisky before he reached down beside his chair. “Ah, I left my laptop out there. I’ll be back.”

She nodded and stood up. She watched him go and admired the way his ass filled out his jeans before she grabbed both of their glasses and headed to the conference table in the corner of her office. She set down both glasses as Johnny walked back in with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He set up quickly and started showing her his company’s designs for the remodeling of the Carmichael building.

Two hours later the two finished the Italian they had ordered in for lunch. As Johnny reached across the table to help Kara clean up their food, there was a loud ripping sound.

“Fuck,” Johnny swore, looking annoyed.

Kara looked up from her food in alarm. “Are you OK? What happened?”

Johnny nodded, looking slightly sheepish as he glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry ma’am. I think my jacket just ripped.”

Kara tried not to smile as she looked over his shoulder and saw the rip down the middle of the jacket. “Oh yeah,” she chuckled lightly, “that’s what you get for trying to contain those muscles.”

Johnny smiled and shrugged.

“Take it off,” she ordered as she got up and walked toward her desk. “I’ll get you the number of my tailor. Do yourself a favor and get at least one tailor-made jacket for clients.”

“Yeah, not really my style,” Johnny rebuffed.

She rolled her eyes but grabbed a business card out of her desk drawer. She turned back around to see him folding the coat over the back of one of the conference table chairs. His navy button-up shirt was straining against his biceps. “Let me guess, you’re more a T-shirt and jeans man,” Kara cocked a brow.

He grinned and nodded, eyes on her as she walked toward him.

“Well, get at leastonesuit tailor-made for client meetings. You’ll realize quickly how stuff off the rack just doesn’t fit the same. Trust me, all ofthisdoesnotfit into off-the-rack clothing,” she drawled, motioning to the very ample chest that God and her momma had given her.

For the first time since meeting the man, Kara noticed him glance down at her chest. Her blouse was red silk and buttoned high enough to be considered professional but still show a hint of cleavage. It fit well, and the black jacket she had on accented her body and slimmed down some of her curves.

Johnny smirked and his baby blues darkened with desire as his gaze returned to hers. “No, I imagine it doesn’t.” His voice was husky and deep.

Kara smiled coyly, licking her lips subconsciously as she got lost in his eyes. Even in her six-inch heels, he towered over her, easily a foot taller. She held out the card, and he reached for it, fingers brushing hers.

Goddamn this man is sex on wheels.

“Listen—,” Johnny started.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Carmichael, but your father is on line one,” Stacy, her secretary, said over the intercom.

Kara schooled her features and composed herself. “Of course,” she muttered. “Thank you, Stacy.” She turned to Johnny, “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I need to take this.”

He nodded, his stare penetrating her soul. “Of course.”

She grabbed her cell phone off the conference table and rushed out of her office. “Stacy, put him through to my cell,” she told her secretary and headed down the hall.

“This is Kara,” she answered as she hit the stairwell, already knowing damn well who was on the phone.

“What the fuck is this I hear about you firing Ken Laraway?” Vince Carmichael screeched in her ear.

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