Max's POV

The moment Charlotte was back on her feet, primly brushing away varnish droplets from her skirt, I found myself utterly transfixed by her familiar movements. Even something as pedestrian as smoothing fabric over those lusciously curved hips held an almost hypnotic allure when performed by her slim fingers.

"Why Mr. Pemberton, you astound me with your thoughtfulness," she deadpanned, that rich alto infused with just the right balance of sauciness and reservation to have my pulse kicking up another notch.

My gaze roamed unhurriedly over the delicious disarray her tumble had wrought - flowing ebony tresses tousled becomingly, those whiskey-colored eyes sparking with banked embers of challenge, even the enticing varnish spatters adorning her stockinged calves.

Suddenly the idea of Charlotte enthusiastically embracing any sort of aesthetic, no matter how unorthodox, filled my mind's eye with all manner of delectable possibilities.

"My aim is but to dazzle, Miss Bennett," I rejoined easily, allowing one corner of my mouth to quirk upwards as I met that smoldering look head-on.

In that moment, I couldn't resist indulging in the fantasy of her radiant beauty gracing the cover of one of those insipid society magazines - a deliciously disheveled ad for the most tantalizing of romantic dalliances with New York's most eligible bachelor. The mere thought of her belonging to me that way, even hypothetically, caused a primal flare of possessiveness to unfurl low in my abdomen.

"Tell me, do you think this smoldering new look might finally knock me off those insipid 'Most Eligible Bachelor' lists?" I couldn't resist prodding, curious if she would rise to the bait of my provocation.

But to my astonishment, the spirited minx, who usually pursued me with relentless determination, suddenly disregarded my suggestive overture in an uncharacteristic display of reservation. One sassily arched brow and an indelicate snort conveyed her disdain for the very idea. "Yes, I can definitely see the slobbering hordes updating the criteria to include a penchant for shellacked footwear as a prime dating prerequisite."

That delicious spirit and unchecked fire, always keeping me just off-balance and gloriously unsettled whenever she was near. I felt something dark and heated flicker through me in response to her cheek, an undeniable yearning to metaphorically put out those rogue flames with actions far more primal than words alone.

Arching one challenging brow in return, I opted for the greener path of provocation instead - at least for the moment. "Well then, it's an added bonus that you seem to have embraced the aesthetic with such...unrestrained enthusiasm. I, for one, am rather enjoying the view."

Her sharply indrawn breath and telltale warmth blooming over those fine cheekbones told me my salacious innuendo landed with the desired effect. But rather than revel in my small victory, I felt a sudden wave of confusion and regret wash over me as Charlotte swiftly glanced away, erecting those professional barriers between us once more.

The sight of her tamping down that riotous spark of vulnerability in her whiskey-hued depths, reassuming that unflappable sangfroid that proved such an impenetrable shield against my onslaught...it disquieted me in a way I couldn't readily define. As if something thrillingly vital and precious was being reflexively snuffed out between us in favor of decorum.

I opened my mouth to say something more, to further provoke that tantalizing display of defenselessness, but the sudden commotion of gawking staff behind us brought me up short. Right, propriety and discretion must reign supreme here in the public arena.

Charlotte's POV

Right on cue, a sudden flurry of activity erupted from the executive suite behind him as various staff members emerged to gawk with undisguised fascination at the spectacle I'd just made of myself. Red-faced and flustered, the poor office manager Josh hovered in Max's wake while wringing his hands.

"Mr. Pemberton, sir, I am so dreadfully sorry about this!" He squawked, bobbing his head in abject apology. "The contractor crew began refinishing the main office floors last night without warning, and we weren't prepared..."

"Not to worry, Josh," Max cut him off with an airy wave of dismissal, not even bothering to turn around. His heated emerald gaze remained fixated solely on me with unhurried intensity. "I'll take full responsibility for Miss Bennett's...abundantly enthusiastic gratitude over the new flooring."

I cocked my head, confused by his bizarre phrasing until realization dawned that Max was smoothly taking the fall - shielding me from any shred of professional embarrassment over my mishap! A sudden warmth blossomed in my chest at the chivalrous gesture, even as my pride bristled in reflexive objection.

But one look at Josh's obvious relief told me pushing back against Max's cover story would only create more flustered chaos. So with an internal sigh, I simply rolled with his lead, flicking my gaze between the two men with a rueful grimace.

"Yes, well, I just got a bit...overexcited at the prospect of broken ankles and workman's comp claims," I cracked dryly. Bending down, I scooped up my poor gouged heels as evidence with a theatrical flourish. "What can I say? I take perverse delight in bureaucratic red tape and interminable hospital waiting rooms."

A muffled snort of undisguised amusement broke from Josh's knot of onlookers at that. But Max's unshakable poise didn't so much as flicker, his striking features an inscrutable mask as he gazed at me in silence for one elongated beat.

Then, just like that, the irresistible force of his compelling presence swept over me in an inexorable tide. "Well then, Miss Bennett, far be it for me to deny your indulgent appetites any longer," he intoned silkily. Catching my elbow in a deceptively casual grip, he began steering me inexorably back the way I'd come.

"Off you go to sate that voracious hunger for mindless bureaucracy. I'll contact maintenance and medical and have them standing by in the lobby when you've satisfied your...lust for triplicate form-filling."

His deep voice fairly smoldered against the heated shell of my ear with each rumbling word of delicious innuendo. I barely registered the startled glances of the other gawkers as Max marched me past, my entire universe narrowed to the scorching brand of his fingertips searing through the thin linen of my blouse.

Jesus, the man could spin absolute chaos into silk with just the hypnotic vibration of his baritone alone. I felt deliriously off-kilter and unmade all over again, utterly unmoored beneath the inexorable force of Max's dominant control no matter what the circumstances.

By the time we reached the elevator bank, a tiny, irrational part of me wondered just where this imperious tide he commanded might ultimately sweep us once the heavy doors rumbled shut...