His heady, masculine scent filled the small space, making me acutely aware of his presence. I jabbed at the button like a woman possessed, as if the lift was going to magically spring to life on the 98th press.
“We could be here for quite awhile,” he drawled, “we should get to know each other a bit better.”
Blushing, I tugged self-consciously at the hem of my skirt.
“You have my CV Mr. Preston, you know enough about me already.”
He smiled and the dimples were the undoing of me; I was glad I had worn matching underwear.