Nine Kinds of Naughty

by Jeanette Grey

  She forced that thought away with prejudice. Just this morning she’d been bemoaning her reluctance to tap that incredibly shapely ass, perfectly confident that it was hers for the tapping, and now here she was acting like an insecure little petal.

  Really, she was the one who should be having doubts about him going. Business trips like this were intense, lots of long hours and close proximity. Dinners out and hotel suites only floors away. Temptation incarnate.

  Maybe she wasn’t so sure if they all should go.

  But what was she supposed to do without him? He’d been working for her for only a few short months, but in that time he’d made himself indispensable, seeing to her every need, anticipating what she would ask for before she’d even managed to process it herself sometimes.

  No. Whatever her discomfort, whatever her doubts about her own self-restraint, he was going.

  She’d just have to keep her hands to herself. And take a lot of very cold showers.

  Reaching her office, she slammed her things down on her desk and rounded on him. “Do you have a wedding, a funeral, or a scheduled childbirth on the near horizon?”

  His eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

  He’d heard her well enough. “Because if so, we can talk. But otherwise, you’re going. End of discussion.” With that out of the way, she reached for the first item on her to-do list. “Now, I’m going to need you to—”

  “Please,” he said, and that got her attention. Shit, it sounded like he was chewing on glass.

  She jerked her gaze up to find his throat bobbing, his usual calm rippling with anxiety. She took an unconscious step backward.

  He worked his jaw, and with what seemed like no small amount of effort, reined himself in, the usual implacability returning to his features. But now she’d seen behind it, she couldn’t get the twist to his mouth out of her mind.

  “I—” Swallowing again, he shifted his weight, planting himself more firmly and squaring his shoulders. “A trip of unknown duration could be a problem for anyone on the team. With this short of notice, anyone with a family would be scrambling.”

  “The people I have in mind are all single.”

  “As far as you know. I’m single, and yet I have commitments. Responsibilities.”

  It was the first she’d heard of it. Except—well, there were his weekends. Who knew what he got up to on those sacred days when he made arrangements not to be on call.

  She flexed the muscles in her hands. The idea of some whole other life he carried on beyond these walls made her squirm inside. “Such as?”

  “Family in the area. Social obligations. Nothing that can’t be dealt with. But I’m not the only one who will want to know how long we’re planning to stay before I start packing my bags.” His tone softened, evening out to a rich bass that seemed to reach right out and soothe her nerves. “Ms. Bellamy. We don’t even know if they’ll be receptive.”

  It was the exact wrong thing to say.

  Rylan had put his faith in her. He trusted her to pull this off. She’d put her reputation on the line, and no way she was backing out now.

  “We’ll make them be receptive.” They had the resources, and she had the will. Making her heart hard, projecting about a megaton more confidence than she had, she passed over the file. “Now go get the analysts working on our offer. And then start packing your bags.” The words rose unbidden to her throat. Shit, she hoped he didn’t call her on her bluff. “Or tell me now so I can find someone who will.”

  “Mom? You home?”

  “Dane?”

  “Yup, just me.”

  Dane tossed his keys in his pocket and closed the door behind him.

  Then just about had a heart attack when he turned around to find himself nose to nose with his mother’s devil cat. She stared at him from her perch on the coatrack, barely an inch from his face. Apparently, he met with her approval today, because instead of trying to draw blood, she sighed and bent her head to lick at her paw. Dane knew an invitation when he saw one.

  “Oh, I’m allowed to pet you today, huh?” Setting down his briefcase, he gave her a quick scratch on the side of her neck.

  Appearing around the corner, his mom raised a brow. “You two getting along all right?”

  “Apparently.” With one last stroke to the cat’s ear, he stepped away, ignoring the thing’s glare. Cats, man, and this cat in particular. He didn’t dislike them, but he didn’t trust them, either. Now a dog—that was a different story. Dusting his palm on his pants, he spared a thought for his dad’s mutt, Gracie. She had to be getting up there now. All the more reason he needed to make a trip out West sometime soon.

  He mentally scoffed at himself. First he’d have to get a freaking day off.

  “You haven’t talked to Dad recently, have you?” he asked, leaning in to peck the top of his mom’s hair and give her shoulder a squeeze.

  She waved him off. “Not since the last time the tax bill was due.”

  It was a weird arrangement the two of them had. Best he knew, his parents hadn’t seen each other in a decade, but they’d never bothered to get divorced. For the longest time, he’d held on to that small shred of hope, daring to imagine that one day his mom would snap out of it already and let them go home. Him and her and devil cat could all go back where they belonged, where you could breathe the fucking air and drive for miles without seeing a soul.

  But no. Queens was her endgame, apparently. It’d made enough sense while Gram and Gramps had still been around, but now his mom just rattled around in their creaky old house, letting her damn cat run her life—while she did her best to run Dane’s.

  He huffed out a breath through his nose.

  Fucking Jake. If Dane had one more day with him, the first thing he’d do was punch him in the face.

  Right before he grabbed him by the neck and hugged him until he couldn’t breathe. Until their time was up and his ghost blew away and disappeared.

  He pulled away, dropping his arm by his side. “Dad ever say anything about Gracie?”

  “Not really? Far as I know she’s still kicking.”

  Good. He didn’t like the idea of his dad out there all alone with nothing and no one to come home to but memories. Regrets.

  He added call Dad to his mental to-do list and underlined it three times.

  As he wandered over to sift through the mail pile, his mom bustled toward the kitchen. “You staying for dinner tonight?”

  “Nah, just stopped by to say hi.” There wasn’t anything of interest in the mail. His stuff had been forwarding for long enough that there rarely was, but he still checked now and then just in case. With no more excuse to dawdle over that, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “So, it looks like I’m heading out of town for a little while.”

  The words felt like ash in his mouth. Saying it aloud made it feel more real.

  But Lexie had given him an ultimatum. He’d been this close to walking away, too. He didn’t like being cornered, and he’d had enough of his choices made for him as it was.

  She’d been shaking just this tiny little bit, though. The steel of her gaze had cracked, revealing something too hot and vulnerable for him to see.

  So he’d gone along with it. For her. Like a fucking sucker.

  It’s only temporary, he reminded himself. He could still walk away at any time. Finding a new job would suck, but he had some money squirreled away. If worst came to worst he could always move in with his mom again, or he could change fields entirely.

  For a fraction of an instant, a brightness popped in his chest, expanding until it pressed against the inside of his ribs. Only to deflate again like so much dead air.

  Who was he kidding? It wasn’t any more of an option than it had been the day his mom had sat him down and told him how things were going to be.

  His mother’s shoulders stiffened. She kept her back to him, fussing over something in the kitchen as she said, “Oh?”

  “Yeah. It’s a busi
ness trip.”

  “Oh.” Relief colored her tone, and yeah, he’d figured she’d jump to the worst conclusion right away. “Where to?”

  “Barcelona. Spain.”

  That got her to turn around. “Spain?”

  “Yup.” He really didn’t want to get into it. Lexie was convinced there was an opportunity there, and he wasn’t going to question her about it anymore. Didn’t mean he was happy about it, but he tried to find a bright side, for his mother’s sake, if nothing else. “Could be worse. At least I know the language.”

  “That’s something. But it’s so far.” She wrung her hands in her apron, and guilt made his stomach do a somersault.

  Sighing, he stepped forward and held out his arms. “It’ll be fine, Mom.”

  Uncomfortable and weird and exhausting, and he’d probably be itching deeper than his skin by the time it was over with. He didn’t know what he was going to do without his outlets, his escapes.

  He forced himself to breathe out nice and slow. It’d be fine.

  His mom stepped into his embrace, and he folded her in. “How long will you be gone?”

  “Not sure. Hopefully not more than a week or two.”

  She made a noise that resonated in his chest, but he couldn’t let her see how much it bothered him.

  “Relax, Mom.” He didn’t feel much like relaxing himself.

  She swatted at him in annoyance, but it was halfhearted at best. “Don’t take that tone with me. I’m your mother. I’m allowed to worry.”

  Yeah, he knew. It seemed all she did was worry.

  While he was left to deal with the consequences.

  chapter THREE

  “Okay, I’ll tell her.”

  Shit. Dane really, really hated being the bearer of bad news. Grimacing, he hung up the call, not even bothering to return his phone to his pocket before jogging up the stairs of the plane.

  All of about five minutes had passed since Lexie had boarded, but already the interior of the jet looked like her own private office. She’d camped out in the very back, her laptop and tablet and phone spread out on the table in front of her. Her bag sat on the seat opposite hers, clearly marking it as claimed.

  Message received. She didn’t want him sitting too close.

  Clenching his jaw, he made his way through the cabin. The sheer opulence of the whole private jet thing still boggled him. Every flight he’d taken home to Billings to visit his dad had meant getting up close and personal with about a hundred other people all crammed together in a sealed tin can, his knees practically jammed against his chest the rows were so tight.

  Here, he didn’t even have to duck his head. Instead of row upon row, there were just eight deep leather seats, and in case those got too cramped, there were a couple of couches, too.

  Suddenly, the whole idea of joining the mile-high club sounded a lot less uncomfortable and a hell of a lot more appealing.

  He had to grab the headrest of one of the seats to keep his balance, the vision rocked him so damn hard. Lexie, spread out on that couch, her knuckles white where she hung on against the rhythm of his thrusts, her hands just where he’d placed them, mouth open and wet. He’d have her there, or maybe bent over one of the seats as he gripped her hair and pounded deep . . .

  Or she could sit all alone in the back, gaze buried in her work, not even bothering to look up as he approached. That was good, too. Probably better, for the sake of his sanity.

  Leaning against the seat opposite hers, he waited for her to acknowledge him. A slight tilt to her head was all he got, and his fingers twitched.

  If he ever did get her bent over a chair, he’d take a few good swats at her rear for good measure.

  He blew out a breath through his nose, fighting to refocus his thoughts. He didn’t want to be here, no, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a professional. He could do his fucking job.

  “Bad news,” he said, just going for it.

  “Then I don’t want to hear it.”

  He gritted his teeth even harder.

  “Well, you have a decision to make, so I’m telling you regardless. The rest of the team’s stuck getting into the tunnel.”

  That got her attention. “What?”

  “They were all sharing a car service, and the two guys from finance had an audit go long.”

  “And now they put themselves in the middle of rush-hour traffic.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Shit, what’s their ETA?”

  “There’s an accident, so an hour at least.”

  She spat a curse beneath her breath. Pressing the button on the side of the table, she said, “John?”

  The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “What’s our window looking like?”

  “That storm’s still moving up the coast. If we don’t get out in the next twenty, we might not get out tonight at all.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “Just say the word.”

  Lexie glanced from the cockpit to Dane and back before setting her jaw. “Get us in the air then.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  To Dane, she said, “Poor bastards are going to have to deal with Newark after all.”

  He managed to suppress his flinch, but only barely. Jesus. This entire plane for just the two of them.

  And then it struck him. This entire plane for just the two of them. His cock twitched in his pants. All those fantasies he’d just suppressed roared back to life, leaving him with precious little blood in his brain.

  Lexie raised a brow. Dazed with arousal, it took him a second to remember himself.

  Right. Professional. Doing his job.

  Dropping down into the seat on the other side of the wide aisle from Lexie, he redialed the last number to convey the bad news. He barely heard the mumbled swearing from the other end of the line. As the door of the jet swept closed, Lexie turned her attention to her work again.

  But there was a restlessness to her that Dane could feel in his bones. Her gaze kept darting away from her screen, and though it never quite settled on him, the heat in it made his blood roar up to a boil.

  She was looking at him. Thinking about him. Maybe imagining the same filthy things he was. The ones she’d spent so fucking long resisting.

  Well, maybe it was time for him to press the issue. He’d been reluctant to go on this trip because the idea of weeks or months on call had made his skin crawl. He hadn’t known how he’d stay sane in an itchy suit, stuck inside a life that never fit quite right without his indulgences. His escapes.

  But maybe he could have them after all.

  Maybe he could have them with her.

  There was something wrong with this seat. Lexie shifted around, trying to get comfortable, but it was a lost cause. The knot at the base of her neck had officially wound so tight it seemed set to snap, taking her spine and her control and maybe her entire life down with it in the process.

  Dane still hadn’t stopped staring at her.

  They’d taken off smoothly enough, and he had settled into the seat on the other side of the aisle from her, the long, hard lines of his body on display. He just took up so much space, both in her mind and in this plane, and he seemed to know it, too.

  The points of her breasts tingled with a hot awareness. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something different to the way he held himself. To the way he looked at her. It made her skin feel too tight, and every move she made to stiffen against it deepened the tension between her shoulder blades. It was giving her a headache, honestly.

  And there was this part of her. This quiet, tiny voice that wanted to give in. To let go.

  She took a measured sip from the glass of chardonnay she was draining a little faster than was probably advisable. Setting it down, she clicked on the spreadsheet she and Laura were supposed to be reviewing together right now, if only the rest of the team hadn’t managed to miss the flight.

  The whole plane shook as they hit an
other patch of rough air. They’d narrowly gotten ahead of the storm, but it had made for a rocky trip so far. Her eyes crossed trying to read the numbers on the screen, the pounding in her temples approaching a full-on drumroll. She managed all right, but she wasn’t the best flier in the world—hadn’t been, even as a kid, crossing the Atlantic with two bratty brothers and parents who had no interest in holding her hand through her bout of nerves. They were still pretty close to the coast, though. Hopefully once they outpaced the clouds it would get better. She could concentrate on her work and forget being trapped in a metal tube hurtling through the air.

  Trapped in a metal tube with a gorgeous man who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.

  Finally, she snapped. “It’s rude to stare, you know.”

  Only once she’d spat the words out did she chance a glance at him. Thank God she was sitting, because she went a little weak in the knees. Those sharp gray eyes of his positively smoldered. He licked his lips and she felt it between her legs.

  “More or less rude than ignoring someone?”

  “I’m not ignoring you,” she lied. All her misgivings about going on this trip with him, about spending so much time in close proximity together, came back to her.

  She was a strong, independent, successful woman standing on top of an empire, and she’d already wasted her office romance chip. The double standards women were held to in an old boys’ club like this were ridiculous. No way she was letting all the work she’d put into rebuilding her reputation go to waste. She had to hold the line, no matter how much Dane’s gaze made her go slick and aching.

  How long had it been since she’d gotten fucked? She and Jordan had fallen apart a year and a half ago, and while she hadn’t been a nun since then, she’d been pretty close.

  All that molten desire twisted and coiled in her belly, and she had to look away.

  “I’m just.” She struggled to make the rows of figures come into focus. “I have a lot of work to do.”

  “Then why haven’t you given any of it to me?”

  It was a damn good question, and one she knew the answer to. Asking him to help meant talking to him, meant looking at him, meant him leaning over her shoulder to look at her screen, breath hot against her ear, his scent shutting off her brain.