Play Thing

by Nicola Marsh

  It had been preposterous. Ludicrous. And so freaking incredible that she’d found herself smiling at random times last night, and several times first thing this morning.

  After he’d left and she’d got over her funk at doing something so completely illogically bizarre, she’d expected embarrassment and shame to follow her initial remorse. It hadn’t happened. Instead, she’d felt oddly empowered, like she’d taken control of her sexuality and wielded it in a way she’d never anticipated.

  Of course it hadn’t lasted and by the time she’d got home, her newfound boldness had faded and humiliation had set in.

  How could she have done that?

  Obsessing about sex with a stranger was the last thing she needed, especially when she had to meet her pain-in-the-ass boss in person for the first time in ten minutes.

  Her confidence had taken more hits than a boxer over the years and while her sexy encounter yesterday had given her a momentary boost, she’d reverted to type today, envisaging their first meeting to be more of the usual: him demanding, her deferent.

  To give herself confidence she’d dressed to impress today, wearing her version of a power suit. A deep burgundy knee-length skirt, an ivory silk blouse that tied in a bow at the neck, a fitted black jacket and low kitten heels. She’d even gone all out and straightened her hair. Not in any effort to impress Alexander bloody Bronson but to ensure she exuded self-assurance when she faced her nemesis.

  Okay, so she was being a tad overdramatic, but he’d really riled her these last few weeks, barking orders, demanding perfection and teasing her with that ridiculous nickname. Charlie. Made her sound like a boy. And hit a little too close to home because of how asexual she felt at times, languishing in her single life and wishing things could be different. That she could be different.

  Courtesy of that sexy stranger yesterday, maybe she could be.

  That was what her brain-fade in that warehouse had ultimately been about: embracing her dormant sexy side, indulging in a little excitement, seeing exactly what she was capable of if she let go a little. Because, although she craved a stable, loving guy, deep down she wanted him to rock her world in more ways than one.

  Trying not to cringe with embarrassment at the indignity of having sex with a man whose name she didn’t know, she gathered her files, checked them for the third time to ensure she’d stacked them in alphabetical order then rested her electronic tablet on the top, ready to show Mr Bronson exactly how competent she could be.

  She hadn’t seen him arrive but the receptionist assured her he’d been holed up in the old manager’s office since early this morning and hadn’t opened his door since.

  She’d be the first staff member he would interview.

  ‘Woo-hoo, lucky me,’ she muttered, glancing at the old-fashioned round clock opposite her desk. She valued punctuality so surely her new boss would be impressed if she arrived five minutes early for their meeting?

  Not giving herself time to ponder the upcoming face-to-face she’d been dreading ever since he’d told her of his arrival in Sydney, she swept up her work in her arms and headed for his office.

  The receptionist mouthed ‘good luck’ and Charlotte grimaced in response, before knocking twice on Mr Bronson’s door.

  When she heard a clipped, ‘Come in,’ she opened the door and stepped inside. He had his back to her, his butt resting on the desk while he spoke into a cell pressed to his ear.

  Her first impressions: dark wavy hair a tad too long to be conventional, broad shoulders, designer suit, nice ass.

  Wow, that guy yesterday must have really done a number on her if one of the first things she noticed about Mr Tall, Dark and Demanding was his ass.

  She closed the door and crossed the room, mentally reciting all the ways she’d like to torture him in response to how he’d tortured her over the last few weeks.

  However, all thought fled when he ended his call and turned to face her.

  Shock rendered her muscles useless and the files in her hands tumbled to the floor, along with her tablet, the numbness flooding her body soon replaced by something far more sinister.

  Soul-deep, soul-destroying mortification.

  Because the boss she had to impress to keep this job, the boss who’d made her life hell with his demands, the boss who could make or break this company, was the sexy guy who’d turned her world upside down yesterday in the warehouse.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHEN ALEX TOOK on a new client he threw himself into the business of rejuvenating that company one hundred per cent. He’d gained a reputation as astute, driven and results-focused because of it. Clients came to him these days. He rarely advertised. And he’d treated The Number Makers job with the same industrious approach. Meaning he’d researched the key players before he started. Meaning he knew Charlotte Baxter was dedicated, conscientious and goal-orientated before she walked through his door.

  He also knew she’d probably want to eviscerate him once she got past the shock.

  ‘Need some help?’ He didn’t wait for a response, moving around the desk to squat and gather up her files. It would give her time to compose herself, as a small part of him felt like a complete bastard for springing a surprise of this magnitude on her when he could have called her last night and warned her.

  If he’d been blown away when he’d realised the truth yesterday he could only imagine how she’d be feeling now.

  When he stood and placed her files and tablet on the desk, she still hadn’t moved but some of her colour had returned.

  ‘Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll talk?’ He laid a hand in the small of her back and she jumped as if he’d electrocuted her.

  He didn’t know whether to be flattered or appalled.

  ‘I know this is awkward, but it doesn’t have to be—’

  ‘You knew?’ She sank onto the chair opposite, her eyes wide and accusing, her mouth open slightly, shell-shocked. ‘I mean, yesterday, when we...you know...you knew who I was?’

  Hell.

  Alex had intended on coming clean but not this soon. He’d wanted to smooth the way, reassure her that what had happened wouldn’t interfere with their working relationship at all. But one look at her mouth twisting in disgust told him he’d be fighting a monstrous battle to convince her to stay, let alone listen.

  ‘Charlie, look—’

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ she growled. ‘Don’t you dare call me that.’

  She shook her head, sending a sleek fall of hair over one shoulder. He preferred the way she’d looked yesterday, tousled and make-up–free, and the fact she’d gone to so much trouble today to impress her new boss made him feel bad anew.

  ‘Let me explain.’ He laid out his hands, palms up, like he had nothing to hide. Yeah, like that would placate her. ‘I know I should have said something yesterday. I’m a businessman and I’m good at what I do, so I researched this company before taking on the job.’

  Her eyes narrowed, fiery slate slits pinning him with a disdain he deserved. ‘What do you want, a medal?’

  He bit back his first instinct to laugh. Good to know she had a sense of humour beneath that austere front. Along with lingerie designed to make a man lose his mind.

  ‘What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t recognise you when I set foot in that warehouse. You had your hair down and glasses off and were wearing that lingerie...’

  Crap, how could he explain the next bit without sounding like a total sleaze?

  ‘And?’ Disgust had given way to audible animosity. He hoped it was an improvement.

  ‘You blew me away and I couldn’t control my baser instincts. We had phenomenal sex, but it wasn’t until you said something afterward that I realised who you were.’

  He could have sworn her upper lip curled in derision. ‘And what was that?’

  ‘You said “I really need to get this tidied up now”, ref
erring to your aunt’s merchandise in the warehouse, but it’s a phrase you’ve used often in reference to tasks I’ve set you over the last few weeks.’

  Her frosty expression didn’t change, as if she was unsure whether to believe him or not, but she gave a begrudging nod and he pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for the right words to make her understand. ‘I was honest about one thing yesterday. I don’t do things like that, meet women and have sex with them in under ten minutes. But seeing you like that...it blew my mind.’

  At last, a breakthrough, when her rigid shoulders relaxed a tad. Not a complete thaw but he’d work on it, whatever it took. He needed Charlotte on board for his revamp of this company. And if having to work alongside this intriguing woman while he did it was a side benefit, he was all for it.

  ‘You seriously couldn’t control yourself around me?’

  Out of all the responses he’d imagined, that wasn’t it. She sounded hesitant, slightly awed, as if she couldn’t believe he’d want her.

  Some asshole must have really done a number on her for her confidence to be that low. It made him want to vault the desk, sweep her into his arms and show her exactly how sexy she was.

  ‘You’re incredible, and when I saw you I wanted you.’ He shrugged, hoping the simple truth would appease more than an apology. ‘And at the risk of having you fling that tablet at my head, seeing you strut in here only reinforces that snap judgement I made yesterday. But I know we have to work together and we’re professionals. So let’s chalk up yesterday to what it was—phenomenal, impulsive, amazing sex between consulting adults—and move on to business.’

  She stared at him, dazed, but the faint pink in her cheeks indicated he’d hit the mark by articulating just how incredible it had been between them.

  ‘You expect us to work together and pretend like nothing happened?’

  She’d lost the biting, sarcastic edge and it gave him hope.

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m not that good a pretender.’ He steepled his fingers together and rested them on the desk, trying to project a professional picture, when forgetting what they’d done in that warehouse was the furthest thing from his mind.

  Seeing her again, sitting opposite him in her conservative work attire, only made him want to see what was under it all the more. Would she be wearing lace? Satin? Or that risqué leather again?

  Damn, not helping the hard-on situation.

  ‘But doing the best job I can for this company is important to me and I want you to work alongside me to achieve that goal. Can you do it?’

  He half expected her to tell him to stick his offer. To tender her resignation and sue the pants off him.

  Instead, after a long pause where she studied him with disconcerting intensity, she nodded.

  ‘I can do this if you can.’

  Hot damn, that almost sounded like a challenge.

  As if she thought he couldn’t work with her without reverting to the horny caveman he’d been yesterday. He’d show her.

  But in agreeing to keep this all business, he’d be deprived of some serious pleasure.

  Their first encounter had been colossal.

  What would prim Charlotte be like if she really let go?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHARLOTTE LEFT THE office in a daze. She couldn’t return to her desk to focus on work and pretend her carefully ordered world hadn’t just been tipped on its head.

  She’d had sex with her new boss.

  Not just sex. Amazing, stupendous, multi-orgasmic sex. The kind of sex she’d only ever read about but never dreamed could happen for real.

  As she walked aimlessly in the bright Sydney sunshine, she remembered one of the last things she’d said to her flatmate Mak before she’d left to take Broadway by storm.

  ‘I need a bad boy. Some big, bold, annoying, arrogant guy to rattle my cage.’

  Well, she’d got her wish and then some.

  In what weird alternate universe, in what giant cosmic twist of fate, did she have the best sex of her life only to discover she’d have to work alongside the hot guy who’d rocked her world? The guy who held her dream of owning her perfect house in the palm of his hand and had the power to make or break it with a snap of his talented fingers?

  It didn’t seem possible. But it was and now Alexander Bronson expected her to work with him and act like he hadn’t been inside her in the most intimate way?

  Impossible. Improbable. Improper.

  Because Charlotte couldn’t forget, despite what she’d told him.

  She blamed him, for saying all that stuff about how badly he’d wanted her and how he couldn’t control himself around her. As if she were some glamorous femme fatale who inspired that kind of passion in a man. She wished.

  There’d been a moment when she’d first seen him behind his desk, an infinitesimal moment, where she’d seen hunger in his eyes. As if he still wanted her. It should have sent her running. It didn’t.

  For the simple fact she liked feeling wanted.

  Men didn’t turn their heads to stare as she walked down the street. She didn’t inspire sexist wolf whistles or lewd comments. And the one and only time she’d succumbed to searching for a date online, she’d taken down her profile from the app after a day when she’d received a mortifying two less-than-stellar requests.

  Besides, she valued her job. She needed her job. And she couldn’t walk away now, not when she was so close to realising one of her long-held dreams.

  Having nomadic parents, being raised by a kooky aunt, meant Charlotte craved security like nothing else. And the quirky cottage on the outskirts of Sydney that she’d fallen in love with represented that to her.

  A home.

  A house all of her own, where she could establish the life she wanted before following the rest of her dreams: a husband, kids, the works. Charlotte wanted it all and knew the only way she could make it happen was to go after it.

  It wouldn’t be easy, finding her perfect guy. She knew this, considering she’d have to date regularly to discover what she really wanted in a man and her track record in the dating stakes had been abysmal until now. But the house was a first step in the right direction and somehow, with her twisted logic, she thought that once she had the house she could set about finding a guy happy to live in it.

  She almost had enough for a deposit, enough for the bank to take her seriously for a hefty loan application. Just another fortnight and she could start living her dream.

  But to do so, she had to tolerate working with Alexander Bronson.

  ‘You can do this,’ she muttered, kicking at a stone on the footpath, as her cell buzzed in her pocket.

  She fished it out, her palms growing clammy as his name popped up on the screen. She’d entered it the moment she’d left his office, ensuring she could ignore his calls if needed.

  But this wasn’t a call; he’d sent a text.

  Have ordered morning tea for staff. Please pick up the order from Le Miel on your way back.

  Will be good to have staff bonding session.

  Alex

  Charlotte muttered an unsavoury curse under her breath and shoved her cell back in her pocket. She didn’t need a staff bonding session. She’d already bonded with her boss and it had been so damn monumental she couldn’t forget it.

  Le Miel was a café they often used for work functions, and she figured he’d probably got the recommendation from the receptionist. Heading there would be good—she needed a friendly ear and Abby was a great listener. Though what her friend would say when she heard about the events of the last few days... Charlotte picked up the pace. The faster Abby talked sense into her, the better.

  Ten minutes later, she had two bags filled with Abby’s delectable pastries ready to take back to the office. But she couldn’t leave without talking to her friend so she perched at her favourite table, ordered a
cappuccino and waited.

  Abby always popped out from the kitchen when she visited, which was several times a week. Charlotte couldn’t resist her friend’s melt-in-the-mouth beignets, croissants and pain au chocolat, eternally grateful for her fast metabolism that ensured a thirty-minute walk a day burned off the calories.

  That leather bustier yesterday had been tighter than her usual size—a moderate B cup—so maybe she should lay off... She stopped eyeing up a giant almond croissant and sipped at her coffee instead, wishing she hadn’t thought about that damn lingerie. She blamed it for her entire lapse in judgement. That, and Alex’s inherent hotness.

  Alex.

  That was what he’d said to call him. Informal, casual, implying intimacy.

  Hell, it was going to be a tough four weeks, waiting until the wunderkind yanked the accountancy firm out of the mire. It could only be a good thing, ensuring she had a job to support her impending loan. But four weeks of working alongside the guy who’d haunted her dreams last night would be torture.

  ‘Hey, Char, what brings you by this time of day?’ Abby collapsed into the chair opposite after placing a plate of freshly baked strawberry tartlets on the table between them. ‘Your firm only ever orders afternoon tea and only then infrequently.’

  ‘The new boss is trying to suck up to the employees.’

  Abby smiled. ‘So how is the boss from hell? Is he as intimidating in person as he was on the phone to you all these weeks?’

  She’d whined about Alex for weeks—his condescending teasing, his constant demands, his infernal tasks—and Abby had been a sympathetic ear. Which would make what she had to divulge all the more shocking. Her friend would think she’d lost her mind.

  ‘Uh... Alex is good.’

  Abby’s eyebrows shot up. ‘That’s interesting.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve never called him anything other than nasty names before. What’s with the breathy tone? Is he hot?’

  ‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Charlotte muttered, wishing she’d grabbed the morning tea order and made a run for it.