by Megan Hart
Caite stood alone, looking as disgusted as he felt. She said his name, but he held up a hand to keep her from saying anything else. He pulled on his clothes, not taking the time to be neat or tidy with it, just desperate not to be naked any longer.
One cuff still dangled from his wrist, keeping him from putting his shirt on. He tore it free and tossed it onto the table. Caite stared at it. Slowly, slowly, she bent to pick up the blindfold he’d thrown to the floor.
“Jamison,” she said. “They’re gone. Don’t do this.”
Everything he’d given her, everything he’d been willing to give, rose inside him like vomit. He shook his head. “This isn’t me. This isn’t who I am.”
He was ashamed to see tears sliding down her face, but even when she reached for him, he couldn’t let her touch him. He stepped back, out of reach. At this rejection, Caite let her hands fall to her sides.
“We don’t have to,” she whispered. “If you don’t want to do that, it’s fine, it’s all right—”
“But it’s what you want, isn’t it?” he shouted, voice hoarse and raw as though he’d been screaming for hours. “It’s what gets you off, isn’t it?”
“It’s what gets you off, too,” Caite cried, then, softer, “and it’s not something shameful. Do you feel ashamed?”
He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. She read it all over him. Caite trembled, biting her lower lip, then closing her eyes as more tears spilled down her face.
“Oh,” she said in a small wounded voice. “Well, then.”
And after that, nothing more had to be said.
Chapter Nine
“Three weeks.” Elise groaned. “Three immortally long, boring weeks until they’ll even consider inducing me. If I have to watch another daytime TV show I’m going to explode with boredom. Though I was thinking about that, Caite, taking on some of those clients. Which, by the way, how’s it going with the Treasure House people?”
Caite’s attention had been snagged by the sight of Jamison heading down the hall to his office and passing her door, but now she returned her focus to the computer screen. “Oh...really well. We’ve managed to get their visibility rating up in the past few weeks. There’s a big event scheduled for tonight. I’ll be covering that.”
“Is Jamison going with you?”
Caite paused. Jamison hadn’t said more than a few words to her since the afternoon in the conference room. Almost a month ago. He’d spoken of business when necessary, but any other attempts at getting him to talk to her about what had happened were met with stony silence. They were back to where they’d been in the beginning. He hated her, she thought, for crossing the line.
“I don’t think so.”
Elise sighed. She looked better than she had the last time Caite had seen her in the office, but her pregnancy was clearly taking its toll. “How’s he doing, by the way?”
Caite didn’t answer right away, not sure what her other boss was getting at. “Um, fine?”
“I mean, he’s letting you do what you have to do, isn’t he? He’s not being too overbearing?”
A vision of Jamison on his knees, hands behind him, prick proud and ready for her, dried Caite’s throat so much she couldn’t answer right away. Elise didn’t seem to notice. She shook her head.
“If he is, I can talk to him about it. I have every confidence that you’re completely competent, Caite. Or else I wouldn’t have hired you.” Elise paused to take another deep breath. “God, I never thought I’d miss the days of going to the gym. I feel like such a slug.”
“Not much longer now,” Caite answered. “Before you know it, you’ll have a little bouncing bundle of joy to keep you so busy you’ll be wishing you could stay in bed.”
Elise smiled. “Yes. I can’t wait. This event tonight, it’s not the usual Treasure House scene. How’d you score it?”
“Tommy is a big supporter of the charity that’s sponsoring the dinner dance. I get the feeling that the other two couldn’t give a rat’s ass about it, but they’re contractually obligated to all go to the same things. He twisted Pax’s arm, and of course, wherever Pax goes, Nellie follows. They got matching tattoos last week. Got a surprising amount of negative commentary on it, too.” Caite paused, leaning back in her chair so she could casually strain for a glimpse of Jamison’s office door. She looked back at her computer to find Elise giving her a quizzical look. “Anyway, this event’s a great way to gain some positive spin on the three of them as well as the show. Tommy’s donating a huge portion of his Treasure House prize to the foundation.”
“If they win it. Well, it will definitely be good publicity and should lead to some other good opportunities, so long as they behave themselves.” Elise yawned. “But I guess that’s why you’ll be there, in case they don’t.”
“Damage control,” Caite murmured. “That’s my job. Fixing things when they’ve gone bad.”
The question was, she thought as she and Elise disconnected their call, would she be able to fix what had gone wrong with her and Jamison?
* * *
In a room filled with the light of hundreds of candles, Caite Fox looked luminous. It was the only way to describe her. And Jamison hated it, because he couldn’t stop trying to find her with his gaze, no matter where she went in the room.
Three weeks. Three heinously long, tense weeks, since the nightmare of being found in a compromising position had sent him over the edge. He’d seen her every workday after that, of course, but they’d done little more than send each other memos or have Bobby relay messages. The atmosphere in the office had been...tense. At least for him. Caite hadn’t seemed to be bothered much by it at all.
He’d been unable to stop thinking about her. Being underneath her. Pleasing her. For the first time since puberty, when he’d started fantasizing about sex, Jamison’s dreams hadn’t focused on what he was going to do to a woman but rather what he could do for her. And nothing seemed to ease the ache.
“Hey, man.” Tommy clapped a hand on Jamison’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming out.”
The kid had cleaned up pretty good, Jamison noted. Suit, no tie, but his long hair had been tied at the nape of his neck with a cord. A faint pattern of bruising on his cheek made him a little less pretty. Jamison still wanted to match it on the other side with his fists.
Instead, he forced a grin. If the little prick intended on making something out of what he’d seen, he’d have Jamison to answer to, client or not. “Part of my job.”
Tommy laughed but as if they were buddies, not as if he were making fun. “I hope we can count on a donation from you anyway. At least bid on something from the silent auction.”
Jamison turned to look him in the eyes. “This foundation, it means a lot to you.”
“I lost my kid sister to Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. There isn’t much known about prion disease. If I can help out, even a little...” Tommy shrugged. The two men stood in awkward silence for a minute before Tommy spoke again. “She’s a prize, you know. Caite. She’s the kind of woman I would do anything for. Am I right?”
Jamison clenched his fists, though halfheartedly. The kid was right, after all. “I bet you would.”
“Damned right I would. And be glad of the chance to make her my queen...but you know something about that, don’t you?” Tommy took a step back as though expecting Jamison to lunge at him. Not as if he were scared by the thought. More as if he was being cautious.
“Look. I don’t give a flying fuck what you think,” Jamison began, but cut himself off when Tommy held up a hand.
“I get it, man. I get it more than you could possibly imagine. And I envy you. The way she looked at you... I won’t lie. I’d give up anything to be able to give it up to her.”
Jamison was silent.
Tommy lifted his chin toward the crowd in front of them. “You thi
nk any other woman out there can give you what she can? Be the woman you need, deep down in your soul? Because if your answer’s anything other than no, I’m going to take her from you. If she’ll have me.”
For a second or so, it felt as though the floor physically tilted, but it was only his equilibrium. Jamison’s lip curled. “You could try, I guess.”
“Wouldn’t have to try too hard, would I?” Tommy gave Jamison a wicked grin. “Seeing as how you’re just standing there, letting her go.”
In the next moment, Tommy was tugged away by a fawning woman who’d earlier given Jamison his raffle ticket. Jamison watched them go, feeling a lot more respect for the reality star than he had before. With a quick check of the social media stream, reassured that Caite’s handiwork of timed updates was doing its job, he headed for the small room off the main banquet hall where the silent auction had been set up. There was the usual—handcrafted baskets filled with soaps or wine or chocolate. Gift certificates to local spas or for holiday home rentals. But there, off to the end, was something he wanted the moment he saw it.
“Pretty, huh,” Caite said quietly.
“Gorgeous.”
She meant the necklace, a single strand of creamy antique pearls displayed on a velvet mat. He meant her. But he kept his eyes on the necklace and the sign-up sheet. The bidding had already gone over $200, still an insanely cheap price for real pearls.
“They’re vintage,” she said. “Came from an estate. They’re not farmed pearls, either—you can see how they’re not exactly matched.”
He let his gaze drift to her. “You know a lot about pearls.”
“Not really. Just what I like.” She looked at him, finally, her gaze warm but not intimate.
It pinched at him, the way she let it slide away from him as though he’d never feasted on her pussy and tasted her coming on his tongue. “I always figured you more for a diamond sort of woman. Pearls seem soft.”
Her eyebrows rose. “I didn’t figure you spent any time at all thinking about what sort of woman I was. At all. Or what I like.”
With that, she stalked off, and Jamison watched her go before shaking himself into action. He followed her from the ballroom to snag her elbow, bared by her sleeveless gown. Her skin, warm beneath his fingertips, was smooth as silk. He turned her. He was gripping too hard, he saw when she winced a little and tried to pull away from him. He let her go.
“Caite. I want to talk to you.”
He didn’t miss the way she looked all around them before meeting his eyes again. “About?”
“Just come with me.” Before she could protest, he’d taken her by the elbow again to hustle her down a short hallway used by the waitstaff. By the time they got to a small alcove by the elevators, she’d tugged herself free of him.
She turned to face him. “What’s going on? Is it something with the clients? Because Nellie and Paxton have actually been on their best behavior at this thing, and Tommy is...”
“No,” Jamison said. “It’s not about them. Your handling of things has been...exemplary.”
“Ah.” She leaned against the wall with her hands flat on it next to her. “So. What, then?”
He kissed her.
Long and hard and fierce, one hand sliding beneath the fall of her sleek blond hair to cup the back of her neck. For a second or so, he thought he’d severely misjudged, but when she whimpered into his open mouth and put her arms around him, he bent back to the kiss with added fervor. They ate of each other, mouths and hands and moans all together. When he broke, gasping, to breathe, Caite wound her arms around him and pulled him back in.
“We could do this forever,” he said after another few minutes of her mouth making him crazy. “But we should do it somewhere else.”
Caite blinked, the haze in her eyes fading. She smiled a little. “Is that what you want?”
“I want you,” he said in a low, growling voice he barely recognized. Everything about her made him crazy.... No, he thought as she stepped out of his arms to straighten her dress and smooth her hair. To wipe at the corners of her mouth where his kiss had smeared her lipstick. Being without her had made him lose his mind. Being with her again had made him sane.
She looked over his shoulder at the passing waiter heading back toward the ballroom. “I have work to do, Jamison.”
“After.”
Caite paused, letting her tongue slide over her lower lip. “I don’t know.”
He took two steps back from her. His fists balled; she saw it but didn’t look scared. Her gaze flickered. Again, the swipe of her tongue across her lips. The hitch of her breath made him think that while she was playing at being reluctant, she might actually want him, too.
“After the banquet and dancing,” she said slowly. “Then we can talk.”
He nodded. Neither of them moved. Caite tipped her chin up, her hands flat again on the wall, one on either side of her thighs. She turned her head slowly, slowly, exposing the line of her neck and throat to him. It drew him, moth to flame, bee to flower.
“No,” she breathed when he moved closer. “After.”
* * *
Caite had heard the term weak in the knees but had never understood it until now. She’d waited until Jamison had gone, leaving her near that elevator, before she’d let out the breath she’d been holding. She’d had to hold on to one of the stacked chairs along the wall and force herself to drag in breath after breath to keep herself from dropping to her hands and knees to stop the world from spinning. It had taken every bit of strength she’d had to keep herself from climbing him like a tree right then and there.
After, he’d said, and she had agreed.
But what would that mean? After the dinner, which she couldn’t bring herself to eat. After the dancing, which had just begun. And then what? What could they possibly have to say to each other? she wondered as she returned to the ballroom.
“Great night.” Tommy was well known for his taciturn nature, but just now he was beaming. He looked around the room, catching sight of Nellie and Paxton holding court, and if it annoyed him, he barely let it show. He put an arm around Caite’s shoulders, easing her closer to say into her ear, “Thanks for all your support, Ms. Fox. Without Wolfe and Baron, and really, mostly you, this event wouldn’t have had half the attention it’s been getting. Online donations have doubled.”
“It’s a good cause.” She slipped an arm around his waist for a second to squeeze him in return.
He looked at her. “The foundation wasn’t your client—I was. But even so, you really went above and beyond. I recommended they take a look at hiring you for some future events. It’s nonprofit, so I’m not sure what their budget is....”
“We do pro bono work for a few different places. I’m sure I can work with them.” She gave a satisfied sigh, looking around, trying not to act as if she was looking for Jamison.
“He’s over by the silent-auction stuff.” Tommy laughed, leaning closer again to whisper into her ear. “But dance with me first.”
She eyed him. “What makes you think I was looking for him?”
“He’s the boss, right? Making sure it all goes okay. Boss man.” Tommy laughed and shook his head. He offered her his hand.
She took it, letting him lead her to the dance floor, where he settled his hands easily on her hips and led her into a few simple steps. They talked as easily as they danced—Tommy was passionate but also well educated about the disease for which he’d spent so much effort raising money, and Caite admired both his enthusiasm and his knowledge.
“We’re going to start calling out the winners of the silent auction. Feel free to keep dancing! Winners, if your name’s called, come on up to the front here to get your item.” The voice from the front of the room echoed a little through the mic. The silent auction signaled the end of the night.
“You
know, there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye,” she said.
Tommy laughed and spun her slowly out, then in for dip. “I could say that about a lot of people. You, for example.”
“Me?” Caite pretended surprise. “Like what?”
But before he could answer, a big male hand came down on his shoulder. “Can I cut in?”
Tommy laughed and nodded, graciously stepping out of the way so Jamison could take his place. When he had, Jamison looked down at Caite with what had become a familiar heat blazing in his eyes. “I didn’t like the way he was handling you. You know you don’t have to let him, right? Just because he’s a client?”
Caite frowned, looking past him to where Tommy was now standing for photos with Nellie and Pax. “It wasn’t a hardship, Jamison.”
Jamison said nothing in reply. Not with words. His expression said it all, and though she kept hers carefully neutral in response, inside she warmed. She moved herself a little closer, into his arms, tipping her head back to look at his face.
“You’re protective,” she murmured.
“I wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”
“You wanted to make sure no other man was touching me,” Caite said.
She hadn’t know for sure it was the truth until she saw his reaction, a thinning of his mouth. Narrowed eyes. And, against the front of her, the sudden press of his erection. She smiled and looked away from him to keep herself from jumping into his arms and feasting on his mouth.
“We can go now,” Caite said, already thinking about the promise of “after” and what it meant. Her nipples went tight. Her pussy tensed. The heat in her stomach kindled higher. Hotter, rising to her throat.
“Not just yet.”
Curious, she looked at him, just as the voice that had been calling out the winners’ names for the past ten minutes said very clearly, “Caitlyn Fox! Congratulations—you won the set of antique pearls, generously donated by one of our volunteer coordinators! Please come to the back of the room to get your prize.”