by Max Henry
I still want to make Lisa East mine.
Lisa Roberts. Fuck my life. I’m a goddamn schoolgirl doodling initials on my notebook already.
“I’ll go round up the others,” Alf states as he rises from his desk, breaking me from my daze. “From what I’ve heard, they have something to discuss.”
“Any idea what it is?” I haven’t spoken to the other managers since I got in this morning. Apparently, a couple of them were more than angry that I skipped dinner Friday night.
Cry babies.
“No.” Alf hesitates by the door. “I’ve got no idea what the agenda is, but I gather it’s serious. Tony was in discussions with Pete when I got in this morning on the line in the boardroom.”
Shit. Pete—our CEO—isn’t exactly my biggest fan. Not when his niece is my goddamn ex.
“Go get yourself a coffee while I track these idiots down,” he offers.
“I might do that.” Fuck—I need the hit to get me through this morning.
I duck out into the hallway and avoid eye contact with people as I head for the break room. When you’re on site to evaluate everyone’s worth in the company, the staff start to look to you for a sign—anything—that gives them hope.
It’s easier to avoid them altogether.
I bury my focus on my phone as I round the doorway to the small kitchenette. A gasp pulls my attention from the email on my screen, and I glance up with just enough time to avoid a collision… with her.
Lisa scowls, a slight shake of her head letting me know where I stand when she sidesteps me and heads for the hall.
“Wait.”
Her heels hesitate on the worn carpet, yet she keeps her back to me.
“I’m sorry about Friday.”
Her shoulders sag.
“I was an asshole, and I owe you an explanation.”
She turns with a sigh, glancing left and right to ensure we’re still alone. “No. You don’t. I led you on the week before, gave you an impression of me that was quite contrary to the truth. I can’t blame you for being confused about whatever signals you got from me.”
“Lisa—”
“No.” She lifts her free hand. “I had time to think about it, Mason. Can we… could we start again?” She frowns at my hesitation. “What? You don’t want to?”
“If we start again,” I explain, “then that wipes out the first night we met.” Her cheeks flush at what I assume is the memory. “And that was one hot night, even if we did get interrupted.” I chuckle. “I’d like to remember that if it’s all good with you.”
She takes two steps back into the break room and sets her mug down on a table. “This is what I don’t understand.” She turns to face me; hands clutched before her. “If you feel that way, then why not just say it? Why mess around with this whole ‘I can save your job’ bullshit?”
“Because I needed a hook.”
“A hook?”
I jam my hands in the pockets of my slacks to save reaching for her. “Something to get you to join me.”
“You think I wouldn’t have gone out to dinner if you’d asked as…” She stumbles over her word choice.
“As a date?” I supply.
Lisa nods. “I guess.”
“Would you?”
“I don’t know.” Her brow furrows. “Probably not, because although you’re not directly in line above me, you’re still my boss.”
“Exactly.” I close the space between us. “I wanted a chance.” She sucks a sharp breath when my fingers graze her jaw. “You knocked me off my feet in that club. Sexy as sin, and with confidence to boot. I didn’t know who you were then, but all I did know was that I needed a taste of you.” She searches my eyes for more—so I give it to her. “Like I need to taste you now.”
“Mason.”
“I can’t think about anything but you when I’m not working. Is that wrong?”
“No.” She inches closer. “Because all I can think about is you, too.” She smiles softly. “All I can think about is how I could have done this a little better so that Friday would have finished differently.”
“Hey.” I run my thumb across her supple bottom lip. “I pushed you to do things you didn’t want. Don’t go taking that on yourself.”
“I did want it, though.”
Hold the phone….
“We arrived at your hotel,” she explains, “and I knew exactly why you’d asked me out. I’m not naïve, Mason. I knew you wanted to finish what we started.”
“You did?” So why the fuck didn’t we?
She sets a hand on my chest, those gentle fingers of hers trailing a path down my tie, and then under the lapel of my jacket. “I wanted to pick up where we left off too. But I also knew deep down how risky it is to my job—to yours—if we chose to complicate things that way.”
“I agree. We’re playing a dangerous game.” I twist my head to check the way is clear.
“Without a doubt.” She jerks away when some guy I don’t recognize strolls through the door of the break room.
I don’t miss the peak of her nipples beneath her blouse as she moves for her coffee. In two long strides, I beat her to the mug and whip it out of her reach. She watches with a frown as I dump the drink in the sink, and then set the empty vessel aside.
“Miss East, could I ask for your assistance with something?”
“Sure.” She frowns, her gaze flicking to the guy who pulls an energy drink from the fridge without the slightest clue what goes on right before him.
“I need your help retrieving some records.” I catch her elbow on my way past and lead her from the break room.
“What are we really doing?” she whispers, leaning in as we stride down the hallway.
“Going to archives like I said,” I answer. “But I’ve got a few minutes at most; I’m due in a meeting.”
“Archives? For what?”
I give her nothing but a suggestive smile.
She swallows hard and walks faster. “This way.”
NINE
Lisa
My spine hits the edge of the metal shelving seconds after Mason has the door shut behind us. He steals a kiss, his tongue sweeping mine before he pulls away and reaches for an archive box.
I giggle as he stacks it the way of the door so if we are to be interrupted, we have time to react. He sets another on top for good measure and then turns back to me with a wicked grin.
“God, you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.”
“We hardly work together,” I correct.
He grabs me by the hips and sets my ass on the edge of the shelf behind me. “Stop ruining my fantasy.”
“I thought we just agreed this is dangerous?”
He shrugs, positioning himself snug against my knees. “We did.” His fingers wrap around the hem of my skirt, and with a few quick tugs, he has it adjusted high on my thigh. “But even though you know sky-diving is dangerous, driving fast in a car is dangerous, riding a rollercoaster is dangerous, you still do it just that once.”
I suck in a sharp breath when he jerks my legs wide enough to step between. All that separates us now are my less than adequate panties and his rather expensive looking slacks.
It’s still too much.
“You’re seriously not thinking of—” I’m silenced with a less than gentle hand to my mouth.
Mason turns his head to focus on the door as muffled voices near, and then pass. I should be more concerned, given my current situation, yet all I can do is admire the strength of his neck, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his goddamn profile has me considering the risk factor in taking this further.
Get it together, Lisa. Think with your head. Lord knows your heart is one confused child when it comes to men.
“I’m thinking about it,” Mason whispers once he seems satisfied we’re in the clear. “But I won’t act on it.” He drops his chin, gaze focused on the space between my thighs as he leisurely drags the fingers that were across my lips mere seconds ago, o
ver the material of my panties. “At least, not today.”
Have mercy on my soul. My eyes slip to half-mast as a shudder ripples through my languid limbs.
“We start again,” he commands in the tone of voice I imagine he uses in meetings like the one he should be in now. “The right way.”
“There is no right way when you’re management, and I’m your staff,” I point out.
His eyes narrow for the briefest second, challenge firing in his irises. “I will tell you what’s right and what’s wrong, Miss East.”
“Is that so Mr. Roberts?” I raise an eyebrow.
He rolls that luscious bottom lip between his teeth before answering. “You know what?”
I lift both eyebrows as though to ask.
“I was going to let you off light, just now. Fix this skirt—” Mason watches his hand as he fingers the material. “—and then set you on your feet before I left you with no more than a gentle kiss.” A wicked smile graces his lips as he brings his gaze back to mine.
I damn near combust.
“But not anymore.” The hand on my skirt slips back to my now decidedly soaked panties. “Just for that, I think I’ll be a minute late to the meeting after all.”
All I can do is brace for impact as he drops to his knees. My hands find purchase on the steel belts that frame the shelving, my jaw slack with shock, or maybe arousal, as my panties are jerked to one side.
An appreciative grumble rises from Mason before he ducks forward and strokes my pussy with a long sweep of his tongue.
I swear to God I won’t be able to walk past this room again without creaming at the memory.
He laps what I have to offer, eliciting a moan from me that was probably far too loud for the narrow storeroom we occupy, but who gives a damn fuck when his tongue has me mentally scouring the Positions Vacant listings in readiness for my imminent dismissal.
“You can’t stop with that,” I whine as he rocks back on his heels.
His magic tongue makes quick work of what’s left on his lips before he wipes them with the back of his hand for good measure. “Can’t I?”
I’m a little horrified, mostly frustrated when he rises to his feet and gently resituates my clothing.
“Thank you for your assistance, Miss East.”
I’m still gobsmacked when he sets me on my feet and appears to give me the once-over.
“Perfect.”
The archive boxes are carefully placed back on the shelf, his suit given the once-over also before he pulls the door to the storeroom open.
I expect the asshole to walk away, to leave me floundering for something to say. Yet to my surprise Mason waits in the hallway and jerks his chin indicating I should step out and join him.
I give myself the once-over as well—just to be sure—and roll my hips to seat my panties better before stepping foot into the office.
“Thank you for your help,” he announces loud enough that any passersby or eavesdroppers could hear. “I’m not sure I could have done that without you.”
Jerk.
I pin him with a hard stare.
It only makes him smile. He leans forward, the hand he stroked my pussy with clutching the knot of his tie as he whispers, “I can still smell you on my hand.”
“Best you do something about that then,” I quip.
He turns his mouth down, shaking his head as he straightens once more. “I don’t think so. It’ll give me something to… think about.” He mimics a thoughtful pose, thumb under the chin, forefinger tucked over his mouth.
I crack. The damn man has me giggling as he takes a step backward.
“I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you need to do next.” He winks, turning heel and striding that sexy ass down the hall.
Bastard knows precisely what I need to do next: make a stop at the ladies before I get to my desk so I can finish what he started.
No way in hell am I able to sit straight in my office chair when he’s left me this swollen and wanting.
God, I love it.
TEN
Mason
“Tony.” I nod to the area manager as I enter the boardroom.
“Mason.” He leans back in the chair at the head of the table, body turned toward the door in an arrogant show of power.
Oh, no he doesn’t. I may not have the influence to get this asshole in trouble, especially if he does have Pete on side, but I sure as hell can make his life difficult.
Alf meets me with a blank stare as I pull out the seat beside him and settle in. Apparently, the old git still has no idea what this is about. Shit. I’d hoped his jowly face would give it away, but if they’ve kept him in the dark, it means that this get-together has nothing to do with his branch. That means one of two things: either Tony has gone over my head about my decisions here so far, or—
“I called Alf in here today considering what I’m about to say affects one of his staff.”
—it’s personal. Fuck.
“Okay?” I aim for the unaware look: vacant eyes, soft gaze, attentive body language.
I aim for denial before he’s even said a damn thing.
“I was told,” Tony leads, choosing to rise from his seat as he continues, “that you gave one of the ladies in the office here an unusual request.”
Is it hot in here, or what? “Such as?”
“The records for the company credit cards.”
Thank fuck for that. “Yes. I did.” I breathe a little easier.
“Why?” The pompous asshole stands before the large window, hands in pockets with his back slightly toward me. Classic power move.
I lean back in my seat, swivel to the left, and kick my feet up on the table.
Classic badass rule-breaker move.
“I thought it would be obvious?” After all, I’m here to evaluate spend and performance. I need to know where the money goes.
“Each card is separated into the appropriate cost center every month,” Tony debates. “You can obtain the report from Accounts Payable. That should be enough for you to know how the funds are apportioned.”
I shake my head, mouth twisted down. “Nope. I need to know details.”
“Why?” Color rises into the asshole’s face.
“So I can give a thorough recommendation on where spending needs to be trimmed back, adjusted, or”—I drop my feet and lean both elbows on the table for effect—“if the status quo is satisfactory.”
Tony turns to the table, leaning both palms on the hardwood. “Every credit card expenditure within this office is signed off by myself.” He jerks his chin toward Alf. “After they’ve been checked already.”
“I know. I trust Alf’s judgment.”
“So?” Tony damn near snorts. “If you trust his judgment, why ask for the details?”
“Because Alf doesn’t check yours before it’s signed off.”
His nostril’s flare. Fuck me, this is fun. Between riling up Tony and getting a taste for Lisa, this trip is bound to be my best yet.
“No,” he states. “Pete does.”
“Uh-huh.” I lean back in my seat once more, hands folded on my stomach.
“Which is why I phoned him yesterday.” A smug grin crosses his squirrelly features. “I thought our CEO should be made aware that you’re questioning his decision-making abilities.”
“No. I don’t think I am,” I say calmly with a frown. “Just yours.”
“Pardon?” He inclines his head, rising to full height.
I slouch further, legs wide to show I’m not intimidated. “Your spend is a little over double your best sales executive.”
“Of course it is,” he sputters. “Where do you think the buck stops with a lot of purchasing requests out of hours?”
“Yeah,” I say with a slight grimace. “But Carl takes your top spenders out for lunch once a month. That’s ten key accounts. One every second day, pretty much.”
“Your point?”
“My point,” I say as Alf stifles a snort beside me, “is what th
e fuck do you spend your money on?”
Tony’s jaw flaps, words failing the moron.
“Are we done here?”
I take his silence as agreement.
“Great. Because I’ve got some real work to do.”
***
It takes me ten minutes of wandering the office before I manage to find out where the hell Lisa went: client meeting offsite. Ten minutes of eavesdropping, and eventually distracting the receptionist with a stationery request so that I can take a peek at her group planner.
I sit at the hot desk I’ve been assigned to while I’m here, building a metal man out of the bulldog clips I didn’t really need. A stack of credit card bills sits to my right, sorted and filed into five manila envelopes. To my left is a pile of expense sheets that would bore the pants off even the most dedicated numbers geek.
I didn’t take up this job because it was fun. Fuck no. I fell into the career progression, and when I was offered my first upwards shift on the ladder complete with a six-figure salary, well, my previous plan to ditch the corporate life and start over suddenly seemed rather fickle.
Plus, by that stage, I’d met Louanne. Pete’s niece.
I still sometimes wonder if the whole thing was a trap gone wrong. Hook me in, make me want to stay, and all that.
Ugh. I ditch the metal man, leaving the poor bastard with one arm, and drag a hand over my face. Why the fuck did I go there? What the hell attracted me to that witch in the first place?
The sex.
Fuck my life. Of course, it was.
Tension wracks my chest when the realization hits. The sex—or at least promise of—is what hooked me to Lisa first, too.
Fuck off. No way. I am not making the same mistake or comparing her to my goddamn ex. Lisa’s an entirely different woman.
Isn’t she?
By the time the woman in question saunters her lusciously curvy ass past my open door, I have a family of bull-clip people lined up against the wall. I abandon Little Timmy with his half-formed limbs and dash out the door to catch Lisa.
She startles when she realizes who matches her pace down the hallway. “Can I help you with something… again?”
“I can’t get fuck all done,” I whisper as we reach her office.