Seducing Seven (What Happens in Vegas) by MK Meredith

Author:MK Meredith [Meredith, MK]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Entangled: Lovestruck
Published: 2015-10-11T23:00:00+00:00

Blake paced the corridor, waiting to go into his interview, and thought of the seven rules mentioned in Seven’s book. Where the hell was rule number eight: fuck the brains out of the guy you’re playing with? He had not expected that. He’d been playing the field for years; apparently there was a first time for everything. He’d underestimated Seven in more ways than one. That wasn’t like him, either. Facts were facts: either he was losing his touch, or she had a talent for mind control.

She filled his head and his senses with the memory of her soft skin and sweet scent. He’d lose his six-pack if he indulged every time he’d wanted dessert since meeting her. Forcing the temptation of her from his mind, he pulled in a steadying breath.

Again, he listed the rules from her book in his head. He’d never admit in a million years to using them, but he was pulling out every trick he had during this interview. When he saw the value in something, he put it to work.

Stepping into the conference room, he took in the setting. It was meant to intimidate, with three corporate head seats along one side of the long table and one lone chair on the other. It fueled his determination. He should be tired from staying up most of the night reading Seven’s damn book and an afternoon bout of mind-blowing sex, but the adrenaline rush made him feel as though he’d sucked down a quad venti latte from Starbucks. Whether it was from the interview or being with Seven, he wasn’t sure. Which was a problem.

The hero in her book had had the same damn problem. Fuck me. He gripped his hands into tighter fists. The characters from the story never trailed far from his brain, but Seven was worse. She sat smack-dab in the center of his attention. He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to give a shit.

Shaking out his hands, he cleared his throat, and the three gentlemen talking at the window turned as he strode across the room with his shoulders back and head high. A smile that could be interpreted as nothing but genuine pulled the corners of his mouth. The men paused, all three in different stages of hair loss, the status quo black suit, white shirt, and some shade of the red power tie. Two had round bellies probably kept there by too much fried food and alcohol, and the third looked as if he could use a little extra. They watched him walk over, then one by one, returned hesitant smiles of their own. Her rules had reminded him of what was so easy to forget—this time, he wasn’t selling a luxury product to a bored, wealthy client. He was selling himself. He smiled at his customers all the time, but most often the serious atmosphere of interviews snuffed out the desire to. Today he was determined to set the tone. And so far, so good.

I’ll be damned.

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