The Rented Husband (Southern Nights Series)

Chapter 4

**Edited by Adelina Clonts aka Seawriter*

“The Rented Husband”

2011 © All Rights Reserved

Chapter 4

Brody’s stood confidently with his legs and shoulders width apart; hands crossed over his chest, peering down at Olivia Murray. What kind of a proposition would Ms. Fancy pants have to offer him? he wondered idly. He figured he would have been the last person she would turn to if she needed something. They could barely stand each other long enough to sit through a simple lunch date much less anything else.

Olivia started tapping her foot anxiously while staring back up at Brody. Her brows were furrowed and she silently debated the sanity of what she was getting ready to do. It was now or never. If she was going to ‘bite the bullet’ so to speak, this was the time to do it. Blowing a sigh of relief, Olivia spoke.

“Mr. O’Connor,” she said directly pointing to the empty chair that was sitting beside him. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Brody’s mouth twitched when he glanced at the chair and quickly back towards Olivia. Her blouse had come unbuttoned at the top, and from where he was standing, he was at the right angle to catch a glimpse of the baby blue lace that lined the edge of her bra. Who would have thought that she, of all people, was a lacy type of gal? He pegged her to be more of a cotton woman.

“I think I’ll stand,” he stated gruffly. “I kind of like this view from up here,” he said as quiet laughter danced around in his eyes. Olivia shrugged her shoulders disturbingly.
“Alright,” she said in a rather non-committal tone. “Whatever it is that floats your boat or toots your horn, more power to you.”

Brody smirked and not so subtly lowered his eyes upon her cleavage peering out of her open shirt. He rested his gaze for a moment before lifting his head and meeting her brown coffee colored eyes.

Olivia took notice of how studiously Brody was watching her.

“What?” she asked holding her hands out to the side and looking down at her blouse. “Do I have something on me?” That would be just fan-freaking-tastic if she had been walking around half the day with a stain decorating her professional attire, she mused. Brody started shaking his head back and forth slowly.

“Nope,” he said the one word making sure to pop that "P" at the end. A slow grin overcame his face as he fixated his eyes down the middle of her creamy white flesh that was exposed in front of him. For a moment he let himself envision what it would be like to kiss that voluptuous small space of skin that he felt would be so smooth feeling as rose petals.

Olivia glanced down again and cried out in a flustering manner, “Oh, god” as she noticed the top two buttons of her blouse undone. She never wanted a hole to open up in the ground and swallow her as much as she did right now. Even part of her bra was showing. For Pete’s sake, Brody O’Connor was probably thinking at this very minute that she was some type of free lancing, wan ton floozy, she guessed.

Huffing, Olivia quickly re-fastened her shirt while her cheeks burned ruby red with embarrassment. Staring awkwardly at her desk, she silently counted to five while she tried to muster up what was left of her dignity. Clearing her throat she looked up at Brody with an expressionless face.

Oh, she was mad. Olivia Murray was about to blow a gasket and Brody could almost visualize the steam floating out of her ears. He knew it was wrong, but he cherished watching her struggle through her testy times like this. She was vibrant and alive; like a little tigress on the prowl waiting for him to make a wrong move; ready to pounce all over him. His notorious grin widened. He wouldn’t mind having her pounce on him, as long as, they were decked out in nothing but their birthday suits.