The Kincaids: New Money: Behind Boardroom Doors. Jennifer Lewis

in the bottle as he stuck out a strong arm and pulled her roughly onto the sofa with him. She let out a tiny shriek as her hips settled into the soft leather next to his.

      “I appreciate the company, Brooke. I guess I needed someone to talk to.” His arm had now settled across her shoulders, his big hand wrapped around her upper arm. She could hardly breathe. And when she did his warm, masculine scent assaulted her senses and raised her blood pressure.

      RJ settled into the sofa a little, caressing her shoulder with his hand. Heat bloomed under his fingers, through her thin blouse. She still held the whiskey bottle and wondered if she should pour from it, or if he’d had enough. He answered the question by taking it from her with his free hand, and putting it on the floor along with his glass. His hand then settled on her thigh, where she could feel the warmth of his palm through her smart gray skirt. Her heart quickened when he turned to look at her.

      RJ’s expression was one of intense concentration. He seemed to be examining her face like she was a table of container ship sailings. “I never noticed how green your eyes are.”

      Brooke had a sudden urge to roll those eyes. How many women had he used that line on? RJ was famous throughout the Southeast as a Most Eligible Bachelor and had enjoyed his single status as long as she’d known him. “Some people would call them gray.” Was she really sitting almost in RJ’s lap talking about her eyes, or was this some kind of manic dream?

      “They’d be wrong.” Again his expression was deadly serious. “But lately I’m learning that people are wrong a lot of the time.” His gaze fell to her mouth. Her lips parted slightly and she pressed them back together. “I’m having to question a lot of my assumptions about the world.”

      “Sometimes that’s good.” She spoke softly, wondering if she’d said the wrong thing. Sitting this close to RJ was dangerous. Arousal already crept through her limbs and strange parts of her were starting to tingle.

      “I suppose so.” RJ frowned. “Though it doesn’t make life any easier.”

      Poor RJ. He was used to being the golden child, his entire life mapped out at birth and his every need taken care of before he could even voice it.

      “Sometimes challenges can make us stronger.” It was hard to form sensible thoughts with his arm around her shoulder and his other hand on her knee. She could feel the power of his sturdy body right through her clothes. Part of her wanted to stand up and go organize the papers on his desk. The other part wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and …

      RJ’s lips crushed over hers in a hot, whiskey-scented kiss that banished all thought. Her body melted against his and she felt her fingers do what they’d wanted all along—roam into his stiff white shirt and the hard, hot muscle beneath.

      His hands caressed her, making her skin hum with arousal. Her nipples thickened and a powerful wave of heat rose in her belly. RJ’s raw hunger for affection—for help—gave urgency to his touch. She could feel how badly he needed her, right now, here in his arms.

      She kissed him back with equal force, affection for him overpowering any more sensible urges. She wanted to heal his hurt, to make him feel better, and right now she almost felt that was within her power. Emotions surged within her. She’d adored RJ almost since the day she met him and his strength under adversity only made her admire him more. She’d never dared imagine for a single second that he’d return her feelings.

      Their kiss deepened and heated and for a moment she thought they’d fuse and become one, then RJ pulled back gently. “Brooke, you’re an amazing woman.”

      His soft sigh contained a thick aroma of all those fingers of whiskey she’d poured him. Would he regret this in the morning? Still, hearing him call her an amazing woman stirred something powerful inside her. Was this the beginning of a totally new phase in their relationship? Maybe they’d start dating and she’d be able to help him negotiate the minefield of his life and come happily out the other side with him—arm in arm. His arms felt fabulous around her right now.

      Or would she remember this as the moment she destroyed her hard-earned career at The Kincaid Group and permanently alienated her boss by getting him drunk and compromising their professional relationship? A ball of fear burst open like a mold spore inside her.

      What was she doing? She’d gotten him drunk, then let him kiss her. It was all her fault, even she could see that.

      RJ stroked her cheek and she fought a sudden urge to nuzzle against him like a cat. Was it so wrong to give him the affection and comfort he craved? Again, violins and visions of a rose-scented courtship hummed in her mind. She was strong enough to help him through this. Her own background had made her a resilient person.

      RJ caressed her, taking in the curve of her breast with his fingers then trailing over her thigh. The musky scent of him filled her senses for a second as his lips met hers again and kissed her softly.

      Cigar smoke clung to his suit from the long business lunch he’d hosted at a local restaurant, and mingled rather intoxicatingly with the whiskey. Everything about RJ seemed delicious to her right now. She wanted to wrap herself up in him and stay there forever.

      But he withdrew again, leaving her lips stinging. Then he frowned and pushed a hand through his hair as if wondering what he was doing.

      An icy finger of doubt slid down Brooke’s back. Perhaps that smoky smell came from the smoldering ruin of her career and reputation. Instinct pushed her to her feet, which wasn’t easy with her knees reduced to wobbly jelly. “Maybe it’s time to get out of here. It’s after seven.”

      RJ leaned his head back against the sofa, eyes closed. “I’m beat. I don’t think I can take another step today.”

      “I’ll call you a cab.” She certainly didn’t want him driving with all that whiskey in him. He didn’t live far away, but driving or walking him home didn’t seem like such a great idea, either. If he invited her in, she wasn’t sure she could say no, and she knew she’d regret being that easy.

      “Don’t worry about me, Brooke. I’ll sleep here on the sofa. I’ve done it many times before. If I wake up in the middle of the night I’ll go through some of the paperwork I need to read.”

      “You’ll wake up sore.”

      “I’ll be fine.” Already he was sinking into the sofa, eyes sleepy. “Go home and rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

      Brooke bit her lip. Somehow it hurt to be dismissed like this after their steamy kisses. What did she expect? That he’d want her by his side every moment from now on? Maybe after so much whiskey he’d already forgotten he even kissed her.

      “What about dinner?”

      “Not hungry,” he murmured.

      “There’s half a plate of sandwiches in the fridge left over from a luncheon meeting today. I could get them for you.”

      “Stop trying to mother me, and go home.” His tone was almost curt. Brooke swallowed and turned for the door. Then she noticed RJ had sat up again, head in his hands. “I can’t believe my mom is in jail. It’s just so wrong. I’ve never felt so powerless in my life.”

      Brooke walked back toward him. “She’s a strong woman and she’ll survive. You’ve done all you can for now and it won’t help her if you worry yourself sick over it. Get some sleep so you’ll be ready to make the most of tomorrow. You’ve got a company to save.”

      He blew out a hard breath. “You’re right, Brooke, as usual. Thanks for everything.”

      Already he’d lain down, eyes closed. A fierce pang of tenderness for him ached in her chest. So tall and strong and proud and so anxious to go immediately into battle to save his mom. RJ was the kind of man any woman would adore. And she was only one among the many who did.

      She slipped out of his office and closed the door, then picked up her jacket and bag from her own desk outside it. Thanks for everything. Was that his way of wrapping up the evening’s events—memos