by Diana Ballew
A sigh escaped her. Had she suppressed so much since Derek? Yes, it looked like she had. She sighed again. After Derek's destructiveness, she hadn't replaced any of her stuff. Fear of his finding her and going on a rampage held her back. She stared out the window, seeking a glimpse of the calming waters of the Puget Sound. Lights glistening off the smooth water calmed her nerves. Derek was still out there somewhere, but she hoped never to see him again. Unfortunately, her ex-fiancé wasn't getting the message. He kept calling her at home and leaving messages. She glanced at her answering machine with dread in her belly.
Yep, the little red light was flashing. Striding over, she hit the playback button. Listening to the messages was her way of knowing his state of mind. And it was the only evidence she had right now to turn over to the police. When the calls had first started, she had talked to the police, but there wasn't much they could do. She'd changed her phone number four times, and still Derek found it. Even after talking with a lawyer again, there was no evidence, so she'd bought an old-fashioned answering machine to record him on tape.
Derek’s whining voice began speaking. “Pick up the phone, Victoria. I want to talk to you. Why won’t you answer me? I miss you. Call me.” Beep, then the next one started. “Come on, Victoria, you know you love me." Beep. “What the fuck is the matter?" he roared, making her whole body cringe in fear. "Why aren’t you calling me back?” Beep. Then the last one. "I think your marketing report has gone missing. I'll get you fired from this job, too, if you don't call me back."
Victoria's stomach clenched, then she sighed with relief at the knowledge the marketing report was safely in the VP's office. But how had Derek known about it? Fear coiled in her belly.
She took a deep breath to calm herself. She was safe right now. That's what counted. She didn't need to dream up more things to fear.
At least tonight there were only four calls. Maybe he was beginning to get the message. In the beginning, she would come home to ten or twelve messages every night. She knew if she didn’t respond to Derek, he’d get tired and give up. She didn’t want any more trouble. Derek had a way of making everything look like it was her fault. Losing her job had been enough. And based on Derek's message, she needed to be more careful in the future. She'd check in with her lawyer again to see if there was anything at all he could do.
She flipped through her mail and noticed the familiar handwriting leaping out. Closing her eyes, she sighed again before she pulled the tape out of her answering machine and put it with the letter into the almost overflowing drawer of tapes and letters. Her apartment complex was safe and secure. Derek hadn't been in physical contact with her and at this point the courts wouldn't issue an order of protection. She and Derek were through. Pushing aside thoughts of her disastrous engagement, she moved into the kitchen and glanced at the clock on the microwave.
Nine o’clock. She’d been stuck in the elevator for more than an hour. She hadn't noticed, not with Joe distracting her. Her nipples hardened. She didn’t want memories of Joe's touch, the feel of his skin against hers, in possession of her mind right now. All she wanted was to take a shower, put on her favorite nightshirt, climb into bed, and forget everything. Derek, Joe, her job—just for a night of peace.
After opening the cabinet, she pulled out some dry cat food and a bag of cat crunchies. In a gesture of apology, she gave Sly more treats than customary and filled his bowl with fresh water. Since her cat was satisfied, she could … what?
Joe had pleasured her sexually, so why did she feel so empty, so alone? Oh, snap out of it, Victoria. You wanted the man; you got him. It’s over; you don’t need to do a post mortem. Straightening her shoulders, she made her way down the small hallway to her bedroom.
After clicking on the lamp by her bed, she kicked off her shoes and removed her jacket. A lock of hair fell into her eyes, reminding her of the absence of her clip. Her clip! Joe still had it. She'd asked him for it then forgotten about it. Another thing to be ashamed of, losing her grandmother's clip. Well, she'd get it back from him on Monday. No way was she going to let embarrassment about what they did together in the elevator get the better of her. The clip was a precious gift.
Her stomach tumbled. Her clip and her torn panties—he had them both. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried not to feel like a piece of her was missing. Between her missing hair adornment and her panties, a part of her soul was missing. Joe had carved a piece of it and now held it in his possession. Male possession ...
With a toss of her head, she shook off her misgivings about what she'd done. Joe's form of possession was totally different from Derek's. Joe made her feel like a treasure to possess, not an object to be abused. And she was a big girl. She had the right to enjoy her body with a man she desired. Joe's hungry gaze, the way he savored every inch of her with his tongue and hands, was nothing like the slaps and hurting grips of Derek.
Yes, Joe was a powerful man who went after what he wanted, but he waited for her consent. Was she nuts to trust him? No. She wouldn't let Derek take the natural trust between two consenting adults away from her. He'd already taken more than enough. Her job, her sense of safety, even her style.
She crossed to the old-fashioned dresser and pulled out a soft, well-worn purple nightshirt and a pair of purple satin panties. Inside the bathroom, she locked the door, then undressed, dropping the dirty clothes into the hamper before stepping into the shower.
The hot water felt good against her skin. She closed her eyes and let the water pour over her body, washing away Joe’s scent. Part of her was saddened to lose his smell; the other part reminded her it was all for the best. If only it was so easy to wash away the memories. She still remembered the way his hands felt on her breasts, tweaking her nipples, making them pulse with need. And his lips roaming over her skin, nipping and licking, and his cock … She snapped her eyes open. Her fingers were at her nipples, plucking them into hardness.
Enough! She wasn’t going to start fantasizing about him. Not again. She didn't need a man in her life, let alone Joe Bradshaw, a bad-boy colleague. She finished her shower, then enveloped herself in a fluffy white towel. Picking up the hand towel on the counter, she used a corner of the cloth to wipe off the mirror and stared at her reflection.
Her blonde hair was a mess. Tomorrow she'd wash her hair; it was too late tonight. She didn't want to go to bed with wet hair, and she didn't have the energy to blow dry and style it tonight. Her pupils were enlarged, her cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen. She looked like a woman who’d just left her lover’s bed. Great. The guard had probably noticed. But, thank God, no one else had seen her mussed state.
Because she had indeed just left her lover’s arms, if one-time wild sex in the elevator made them lovers. She tilted her head. Yes, they were lovers. Ah, hell, this isn't what she wanted to be thinking, not right now.
A tingling started at her toes and moved its way through her body. She recognized it as anticipation—anticipation of the next time she and Joe would be together. No! There wasn’t going to be a next time. There couldn’t be. While Joe was used to getting his own way on the business side of things, she’d had enough of domineering men in her life.
Lovers.
Stop it. She pushed all thoughts of Joe and sex out of her mind, brushed her teeth, and dried off. By the time she’d put on her panties and nightshirt, she was back under control and feeling less vulnerable.
The beige carpet tickled her bare feet as she strode into her bedroom. She folded back the patchwork quilt to reveal the red satin sheets. The cool satin made her skin prickle with a chill, but once the comforter trapped her body heat, the fabric warmed to a caress.
Once she was warm she liked the occasional shock of rolling over into a cold section of the sheets. Cold against warm skin brought an instant of ... not pain—but unpleasantness, and an instant later, pleasure.
She turned off the light. The night light in the bathroom gave off just enough of a glow to chase away the shadows. Until Derek, she had
never needed a night light, even as a child.
She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Thank goodness tomorrow was Saturday and she wouldn’t have to face work or Joe. A day to catch up on housework and laundry. She squirmed against the slick fabric. She had two days to figure out how to handle him. Not a lot of time, but it was better than nothing.
Her big gray cat, Sly, jumped on the bed with a thump and padded over, nudging her hand. “Happy?” She scratched him behind the ears. He curled up against her side and began purring. Victoria smiled and closed her eyes. Tomorrow she’d see things more clearly, without the afterglow of great sex clouding her judgment.
Victoria tossed aside the tangled sheets and glanced at the clock. Six. No wonder it was still dark. With a sigh, she sat up. It was all Joe Bradshaw’s fault. He’d invaded her mind, her body, and now her dreams. She ached all over, not only from the elevator sex, but from the unfulfilled dreams and a body throbbing with need.
What had made her think having sex with Joe would cure her of him? Instead, it had only made her want him more, and she didn't like it. She rose and meandered barefoot down the carpeted hallway to the kitchen.
She was going to need extra caffeine today. With precision she measured out the grounds and poured the water into the coffeemaker. While she waited for the coffee to percolate, her mind processed the events of the previous evening once again.
While she’d like to tell herself Joe had seduced her, she couldn’t. She’d been a willing participant. Hell, she’d been eager for his touch, his kisses, his cock. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and that’s all there was to it.
Maybe going so long without sex hadn’t been a good idea. Staying celibate seemed the safest course after Derek, but … Another sigh slipped past her lips. She'd fallen into her relationship with him, one of comfort, at least in the beginning. Then Derek began to change, becoming more possessive, more destructive. She'd tolerated things. Was she doing that with Joe? Could she trust her own judgment? Especially when she was so powerfully attracted to him?
The percolator gave its last gasp, signaling the coffee was ready. The rich aromas and steam counteracted the ice in her veins at the thought of Joe changing like Derek had. No, they were different. Or was she fooling herself?
After pouring a cup, she collected the throw blanket from the sofa and stepped out onto the small balcony.
Careful not to spill and stain the cream-colored throw, she set her coffee cup on the tiny table. Then she lowered herself onto the love seat and curled her legs beneath her, cuddling into the throw around her shoulders. The coffee was rich with chocolate and coconut. German chocolate—her favorite flavor. There was only one coffee shop downtown that carried the brew, and she picked up a pound at the first of every month.
She watched as the black sky lightened to gray, then yellow, and then light blue, which reminded her of Joe’s eyes. Digging her fingers into the angora, she pulled it around the gap at her neck, nudging out the early morning chill.
What was she going to do about Joe? There wasn’t much she could do. A one-time thing, that's what it was. Over and done with. And there was no going back to before it happened. The deed was done. She couldn't undo what she'd done. Pressure built against the backside of her ribs.
No, this wasn't the same situation as with Derek. It wasn't like she and Joe had been involved and then broke up. Losing her job had been because of what Derek had done. Joe wasn't like that, she was sure. Derek was a jerk.
She'd have to play it way cool at work and outside of work as well. Office affairs were never secret for long. Even though Joe had indicated he wanted more, it wasn’t a good idea.
Was she smiling? She giggled and buried her nose in the soft fabric of her throw. If their compatibility was determined by sex, there was definitely a future there. Last night had been wildfire. Of course Joe wanted more. She did too—but that wasn't the point. Joe--and any man or woman, for that matter--would want more of what they'd enjoyed last night.
She wiped the smirk off her face. Playing with fire was the last thing she should be doing if she didn't want to lose her job and have to find another one.
No, the problem with her and Joe wasn't sex, it was their working for the same company. Unlike Derek, Joe wasn’t her boss, but it might be seen as unprofessional for them to see each other. And Derek? She was tired of him. Tired of his harassment. But what could she do when she had no legal options? They’d been good together once. In the beginning of their relationship, Derek had helped her through the terrible period following her grandmother’s death. He was a good-looking man and he'd been kind and caring, taking care of her every need. Then he changed. It was slow at first, a comment here and there. Hating her clothing, the way her hair looked, saying she wore too much makeup or too little. When she began to notice the changes in him, she was in too deep. Until the last night, when he had slapped her. She had already begun to think about leaving him, but when he hit her, that sealed the deal. She walked out and a weight lifted from her shoulders. But Derek wanted her back, and that was never going to happen. But she wouldn't let Joe get in the middle of her mess.
Victoria took a deep breath and let it out. She needed to get her mind off both men. Since it was Saturday, she might as well clean her apartment and do laundry. Yep, that was the ticket. A little physical work would make her feel better. She drained the last of her coffee and surged to her feet.
By ten, her apartment was spotless. She’d finished folding the last of her laundry. While the sense of satisfaction made her smile, now what was she going to do for the rest of the day? Joe’s image rose in her mind. She closed her eyes and willed the vision away. Even while she was doing housework, Joe was never very far from her mind.
It annoyed her she couldn't stop her body from reacting to her thoughts.
The doorbell rang, and for a second her pulse kicked up a notch. Don’t be silly. He couldn't get by the security guard; perhaps it was a neighbor. Crossing the room, she peeked through the peephole.
“Joe!” Her heart started pounding. Her fingers trembled as she undid the multiple chains and locks. This was a bad idea, but knowing that didn't stop her.
When at last she pulled open the door, he greeted her with a wide smile. “Good morning.”
“How … ” She broke off when she saw Phil, the day guard, out of the corner of her eyes. “Good morning, Phil.”
“Morning, Ms. Collins. Mr. Bradshaw wanted to surprise you, so I brought him up. It's okay, isn’t it?”
Victoria opened her mouth to remind Phil about the rules, but Joe spoke before she could.
“Sweetheart, I told Phil you’d just forgotten to put my name on the guest list since we just started dating.” He ran his fingers down her arm, leaving goose bumps from his soft touch.
She fought not to moan at the sensation of his skin against hers. She glanced over at Phil, who shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s okay, Phil. Thank you for escorting Joe up here and making sure everything was all right.” Phil nodded, then walked away. The minute the elevator doors closed, Victoria looked back at Joe. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s my Vicki, straight to the point.” His grin widened. His black shirt and black jeans molded to his body, giving him the ultimate bad-boy look. “Invite me in.”
“No.” She'd only opened the door to figure out how he had gotten past security. Wasn’t it bad enough he’d invaded her mind and her dreams? Now he wanted to invade her apartment. No way.
Joe shrugged. “I can discuss last night out here in the hall.” He glanced to his left as a door opened.
Victoria caught sight of one of the two young children who lived next door peering out. “Joe,” she started. She couldn't let him rehash last night.
“How are you feeling?” He trailed his fingers over her cheek. “Was I too rough last night?”
Once again, her skin tingled where he touched her, but his words made her tremble. This wasn’t a conversation she wa
nted anyone to overhear, let alone a kid. The boys' mother stepped into the hallway, holding her younger child by the hand. Victoria's heart clenched.
“Good morning,” Joe said when her neighbor walked past Vicki’s door.
“Good morning,” the woman replied with an excessively friendly smile.
Victoria rolled her eyes and stepped back so Joe could enter her apartment. Once he crossed the threshold, she pushed the door shut and leaned against it. Only then did she allow her gaze to cover him from head to toe.
His blue eyes danced with mischief. The black polo-style shirt accentuated his broad shoulders, and the black jeans molded to his thighs, reminding her of just how strong his legs were. “Like what you see?” The amusement in his voice caused her gaze to snap up to his face. She was acting like a teenager ogling the quarterback.
“Yes, I do.” Why couldn’t she lie? No, she had to blurt out the truth. “What do you want, Joe?”
“Two things.” He reached into his pocket. “First, to give you this.” He held out his hand.
“My clip.” Her heart turned over. She’d forgotten all about it this morning. Her hand rose and she took it from his palm, not quite able to ignore the heat from his skin. “Thank you.” She closed her fingers around the clip and then pressed it against her chest.
“It’s very special to you, isn’t it?” The mischief in his eyes was replaced with tenderness.
“Yes.” She cleared her tight throat. “My grandfather was a silversmith, and he made the clip for my grandmother as a wedding gift. My grandmother gave it to me the day before she died.” The memory of her grandmother’s death reminded Victoria of her loneliness. Her parents lived out of state and she wasn't close to any of her step-brothers or step-sisters. She fought back the sudden tears.
“I’m sorry.” The words were soft as he brushed his thumb across her cheek, catching the lone tear she couldn’t stop from falling.