“Sure. I don’t think there’s many in this field who haven’t read about Evans, Reinhart and Fisher’s golden boy in Business Weekly…or Page Six for that matter.”
Her last words refer to the gossip columns on whose pages I frequently appear.
“If the only reason you blew me off is because I work here,” I say, “I can have my resignation on my father’s desk within the hour.”
She laughs and then, with a faint blush coloring her cheeks, replies, “No, that wasn’t the only reason.” She holds up her hand to remind me of the almost-invisible engagement ring. “But aren’t you glad now that I turned you down? I mean, it would have been pretty awkward if something had happened between us. Don’t you think?”
My face is completely serious as I tell her, “Would’ve been worth it.”
She raises her brows in doubt. “Even though I’m working under you now?”
Now, come on-she walked right into that one, and she knows it. Working under me? How in the hell am I supposed to ignore that?
Yet I merely cock an eyebrow, and she shakes her head and chuckles again.
With a feral smile, I ask her, “I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”
“No. Not at all. But do you treat all your employees this way? Because I have to tell you, you’re leaving yourself wide open for a lawsuit.”
I can’t help the smile that comes to my lips. She’s such a surprise. Sharp. Quick. I have to think before I speak to her. I like it.
I like her.
“No, I don’t treat all my employees this way. Ever. Only one, who I haven’t stopped thinking about since Saturday night.”
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t thinking about her when the twins were double-teaming me. But it’s at least partly true.
“You’re incorrigible,” she says in a way that tells me she thinks I’m cute.
I’m a lot of things, baby. Cute isn’t one of them.
“I see something I want, and I go after it. I’m used to getting what I want.”
You’ll never hear a truer statement about me than that. But let’s put things on hold for a minute here, okay? So I can give you the full picture.
See, my mother, Anne, always wanted a big family-five, maybe six kids. But Alexandra is six years older than me. Six years may not seem like a lot to you, but to my mother it was a lifetime. The way the story goes, after Alexandra, my mother couldn’t get pregnant again-and it wasn’t for lack of trying. “Secondary infertility,” they called it. When my sister was four, my mother had pretty much given up hope of ever having any more kids.
And then guess what? I came along.
Surprise.
I was her miracle baby. Her precious angel from God. Her granted wish. Her answered prayer. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. My father was thrilled, just as grateful to have another child-and a son at that. And Alexandra-this was the pre-Bitch years-was ecstatic to finally have a baby brother.
I was what my family had wanted and waited five years for. I was the little prince. I could do no wrong. There was nothing I wanted that I couldn’t have. I was the most handsome, the most brilliant. There was no one kinder, none sweeter than me. I was loved beyond words-doted on and catered to.
So, if you think I’m arrogant? Selfish? Spoiled? You’re probably right. But don’t hold it against me. It’s not my fault. I am a product of how I was raised.
Now that that’s out of the way-back to my office. This next part is big.
“And I think you should know, I want you, Kate.”
See the flush on her cheeks, the slight surprise on her face? See how her face turns serious, and she meets my eyes and then looks down at the floor?
I’m getting to her. She wants me too. She’s fighting it. But it’s there. I could have her. I could lead her right where she is dying to go.
The knowledge makes me swallow a groan as the guy downstairs reacts with a vengeance. I want to walk up to her and kiss her until she can’t stand. I want to slide my tongue between those ripe lips until her knees give out from under her. I want to pick her up, wrap her legs around my waist, lean her up against the wall and…
“Hey, Drew. There’s a traffic jam on Fifty-Third. If you want to make your four o’clock, you should get going.”
Thank you, Erin. Way to kill the moment. Awesome secretary-horrible timing.
Kate gets up from her chair, her shoulders stiff, her back straight. She inches toward the door and refuses to look me in the eyes. “So, thanks for your time, Mr. Evans. You…ah…let me know when you want me.”
I raise my brows suggestively at her words. I love that she’s flustered-and that I’m the one who did it to her.
Still avoiding eye contact, she grimaces slightly. “About Alphacom and Genesis. Let me know what I should do…what you want me to do…what…oh, you know what I mean.”
Before she’s out the door, my voice stops her. “Kate?”
She turns to me, her eyes questioning.
I point to myself. “It’s Drew.”
She smiles. Recovering herself. Her natural confidence finding its way back into her eyes.
Then she meets my gaze full on. “Right. I’ll see you later, Drew.”
Once she’s out the door, I say only to myself, “Oh, yes. Yes, you will.”
As I check my briefcase to leave for my meeting, I realize this attraction-no, that’s not a strong enough word-this need that I have for Kate Brooks isn’t just going to go away. I can try and fight it, but I’m only a man, for God’s sake. Left unresolved, my desire for her could turn my office, the place I love, into a torture chamber of sexual frustration.
I can’t let that happen.
So, I have three options: I can quit. I could get Kate to quit. Or I can entice her to share one profoundly pleasurable night with me. Get it out of both of our systems-consequences be damned.
Guess which one I’m going to pick?
Chapter 4
TURNS OUT I DIDN’T GET BLUE BALLS after all. I met up with the coffee house girl that night. She’s a yoga instructor.
Nice.
What? Come on, don’t be like that. I want Kate, no question. But don’t expect me to act like a monk until it happens. The thing women don’t understand is that a guy can want one woman and still fuck another one. Hell, a guy could love a woman and still fuck ten others. It’s just the way it is.
Sex is a release. Purely physical. That’s all. At least to men it is.
Okay, okay-calm down-don’t start throwing shoes at me or something.
At least to this man it is. Better?
Maybe you’ll understand my point of view if I put it this way. You brush your teeth, right? Well, suppose your favorite toothpaste is Aquafresh. But the store is out. All they have is Colgate. What are you going to do? You’re going to use the Colgate, right?
You may want to brush with Aquafresh, but when all is said and done, you use what you have to keep those pearly whites clean. See my way of thinking? Good.
Now, back to my tale of heartache and pain.
I’ve never seduced a woman before.
Shocking, I know.
Let me clarify. I’ve never had to seduce a woman before, not in the typical sense. Usually, it just takes a look, a wink, a smile. A friendly greeting, maybe a drink or two. After that, the only verbal exchange involves short one-word phrases like harder, more, lower…you get the point.
So the whole conversing-a-woman-into-bed concept is pretty new to me, I’ll admit. But I’m not worried. Why not, you ask?
Because I play chess.
Chess is a game of strategy, planning. Of thinking two steps ahead of your next move. Of guiding your opponent right where you need them to be.
For the two weeks following her first day, dealing with Kate, for me, is exactly like playing chess. A few suggestive words, some innocent but seductive caresses. I won’t bore you with details of every conversation. I’ll just say that things are progressing nicely; everything is going according to plan.
I figure it’ll take another week-two tops-till I’m able to claim that golden treasure between her creamy thighs. I already know how it will play out. I’ve spent hours in fact, imagining it, fantasizing about it.
Want to hear it?
It will happen in my office, one night when we’re both working late-the only ones left. She’ll be tired, stiff. I’ll offer to rub her neck, and she’ll let me. Then I’ll lean down and kiss her, starting at her shoulder, trailing up her neck, tasting her skin with my tongue. Finally, our lips will meet. And it will be hot-fucking scorching. And she’ll forget all about the reasons why we shouldn’t: our mutual place of work, her stupid fiancé. The only thing she’ll be thinking of is me and the things my expert hands will be doing to her.
I have a couch in my office. It’s suede-not leather. Does suede stain? Hope not. Because that’s where we’ll end up-on that sorrowfully underused couch.
Now let me ask you this: Have you seen those commercials that say how life can change in an instant?
Yes, yes, I’m going somewhere with this-just bear with me.
You know the ones I’m talking about, don’t you? Where the happy family is driving down Main Street on a bright sunny day and then…BAM. Head-on collision with a semi. And daddy goes flying out the window because he didn’t have his seat belt buckled.
They’re designed to scare the shit out of us. And they do. But the fact remains they are also chock-full of truth. Our goals, our priorities can change instantaneously-usually when we least expect it.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.