The Takeover (The Miles High Club #2)

by T.L. Swan

“Claire Anderson,” he calls from the stage. My horrified eyes meet his. “Sit back down.” “I . . .” I take another step toward the exit. “Claire,” he warns. I glance around at the 120 pairs of eyes fixed firmly on me and then back up at him. “I said sit. Back. Down.”

I smile goofily up at him. He towers above me. He must be six foot three at least. His dark hair is messed to perfection, and his lips are a perfect shade of come fuck me.

“I want to look understated sexy, not like mutton dressed up as lamb. Something age appropriate but not motherly.”