All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1) Read Online Free

rounding the desk to stand in front of her.
    “Do you mind if I take a closer look?” he asked, kneeling at her feet to get a better view of the boots.
    When he put a hand near her ankle to push up the leg of her pants, she jerked. “I’ll just take them off.”
    “Let me help,” he offered, and she reluctantly placed her foot in his hands.
    After a couple of tugs, the boot came loose, uncoveringher pink camouflage-print sock. He leaned back on his heels to study her boot more closely but was distracted when she stood.
    Her new position put his face almost nose-deep in her cleavage, and when she realized it, she stumbled backward, barely saving herself from a fall by grabbing the back of the chair. Before he could say anything, her hands went to her waist, and she began to unbuckle her belt.
    What the hell is she doing?
    Just like that, all his efforts to keep his thoughts firmly in PG territory drained away in a wave of lust so powerful he had trouble catching his breath.
    •   •   •
    Amelia was more flustered than she’d ever been in her life. She could only think of one other occasion when she’d been so rattled, and that was the night Ava Grace had sung her heart out to win the
American Star
title.
    She was off balance because she wore only one boot, and her fingers felt numb, which was not only alarming but inconvenient, too. She needed to take off her belt so Quinn could study it without getting any closer. He had already been too close. Her body flushed when she thought about the graceless move that had forced her girls into his face.
    He still knelt on the concrete floor, and the office was so silent she could hear his breathing. His chest moved in a deep, fast rhythm.
    She leaned against the chair. After a moment, her fingers worked again, and she resumed unbuckling her belt.
    “So what do you think?” she asked, referring to the boot he still held in his hands.
    Her voice sounded just like Marilyn Monroe’s when she’d sung “Happy Birthday” to JFK, and she cringed in embarrassment. When he didn’t reply, she glanced up from her belt.
    His head was bowed, his knuckles white where they clenched her boot. Finally, he responded.
    “I think you should stop fiddling with your belt,” he said roughly.
    She froze, torn between running and staying exactly whereshe was. If the air had been heavy with sexual tension before, it now crackled with it. She had never felt anything like it, and she definitely didn’t want to feel it with this man.
    She waited a beat before speaking. “May I have my boot back?”
    He relinquished his hold on her footwear, and she moved to the sofa to pull it on. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him get to his feet and make his way toward the windows.
    He stared down at the street below, one hand propped on the window and the other rubbing the back of his neck. “Teagan thinks you’re the right person for this job,” he said without turning.
    His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “I’m inclined to agree with her. I like what I saw here today.” He stopped abruptly, muttering something under his breath. “I like your designs,” he clarified.
    He turned from the window, his face blank. “You asked for this meeting. Is there anything in particular you wanted to discuss?”
    “Yes. I’m curious how much supervision you plan to give to this project.”
    He smiled, a quick quirk of his lips. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a terrible micromanager.”
    She tensed, shuddering inwardly at the thought of him hanging over her shoulder, watching her every move. Her dread must have been visible because he chuckled.
    “Relax, Amelia. I’m far from a micromanager. I trust people to do their jobs, at least until they give me a reason not to trust them. And you’ve not given me any reason not to trust you.”
    “So you aren’t going to provide a lot of supervision. What kind of involvement do you expect to have with the design process?”
    “What would