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Cream of the Crop

Page 3

by Dominique, Dawné


  His eyes narrowed. Then he stood and strolled into the bathroom, returning moments later wearing a hotel issued terry robe. She purposely kept her back to him as she continued to dress. When she heard him leave the bedroom, she blew out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

  Her hands shook so badly, it took several attempts before she could button up her blazer. Once she finished dressing, she stood by the bed, wishing she was anywhere else but here. Never would she do something like this again.

  I’ll tell Patrice tomorrow that I quit. Jesus, what have I done?

  Emotions collided and confused her every thought process, but the one most prominent that left the worst taste in her mouth? Utter disgust with herself.

  Then how come it was the best sex I'd ever had?

  She forced her legs to work and emerged from the bedroom. He stood beside the bar holding two large glasses of red wine.

  To hell with that. She bee-lined it for the door.

  “On the table there. That’s for you.”

  She hesitated. Was that disappointment she heard in his voice? She looked down and saw a thick clip of hundred dollar bills beside her purse. Peering over her shoulder, she quashed the sudden desire to smack him silly. Gritting her teeth, she picked up the money, turned, and threw it at him. Regret filled her. What the hell was she doing? Wasn't that wad of money the reason why she took the job in the first place? Her brain was too scrambled to think straight.

  He bent, retrieved the money clip, and placed it onto the bar. His brows drew down into a pronounced V. “Have I offended you in some way?”

  “No. I’ve done that all by myself,” she snapped, looking anywhere but at him.

  “Might I offer you another proposition then?”

  She peered up at him. He held out the wineglass glass in her direction, his face an unwavering mask of earnestness.

  “I believe I just fulfilled all your propositions. And like any whore, you’ve just paid me for the service.” This was your choice, Amy, she fumed. You chose to do this.

  He tilted his head and studied her. “What's your grade average?” He took a small sip from his glass and leaned against the bar, crossing his bare feet at the ankles.

  I know nothing about him and he’s asking me personal questions? She stuck out her chin in false bravado. “I don’t know what business it is of yours, but I carry a three point seven average.” She was supposed to be nice to the clients, right? Get your sorry ass outta here.

  He smiled that bedazzling smile of his. Time seemed to stop. “I’m currently looking to fill a corporate position at my new overseas office. I need a lawyer. Someone bright. Young. A quick learner. Highly intelligent. A shrewd litigator. Interested? By the way, my name's Devlin Blanchard. I believe you and I have some things to discuss. A job opportunity perhaps? You’re very good at what you do now, but I have a feeling it’s a waste of your true talents. Although...” An amused glint highlighted his eyes. “I'd certainly like to see our business venture expand more...intimately.”

  Her heart thumped wildly inside her chest. She recognized the name. In the corporate world there were few who didn’t. Oh, hell! No wonder he looked familiar. That charming smirk crinkled the corners of those amazing eyes of his as he raised the glass of wine in her direction.

  She crossed her arms and stared long and hard at him. She'd never backed down from a challenge before and she wasn't about to start now. And damn, this was one helluva challenge. What did she have to lose? "I'll listen to your proposal under one condition. I won't wear kneepads to keep the job. Understand?"

  His laugh was boisterous and heartfelt. "I promise. I'll even have it stipulated in our contract, if you want."

  This can't be happening. Can it?" She swallowed hard. "I still have three more weeks before I'm called to the bar."

  "That's perfect. The offices in Amsterdam won't be ready until then. So what do you say? I'll have a contract drawn up and ready for our signatures tomorrow? And I'll ensure the kneepad clause is included."

  She approached him and took the wineglass with smile. "Let's keep the kneepads optional, shall we?"

  Amy was about to venture down another path in her life, but this time she looked forward to it.

  The End

  About the Author

  A multi-published and award-nominated author of paranormal erotic romance and fantasy, Dawné Dominique's novels instantly hook readers until that last page is read.

  She embraces life with one simple rule: "Everything in life happens for a reason, be it good or bad, and it’s because of this we learn to never take anything for granted."

  http://www.dawnedominique.com

  http://dusktildawndesigns.com

  coming soon in 2014, the finale of The First series

  SURRENDER

  The Sins of the Father, V: The First

  www.purplesword.com

  DusktilDawn Publications

  Erotic Romance Fiction

  www.dawnedomique.com

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