The CEO Buys in (Wager of Hearts #1)

by Nancy Herkness

  The front doors of the office building swung open with a flash of sun on glass as another elevatorload of workers poured out into the damp, gloomy New York afternoon. He scanned the crowd for Chloe’s face, his pulse rate settling back to normal when he didn’t see it.

  He went back to his reverie until a single figure came out the far door. The moment her toe hit the sidewalk, he knew it was Chloe. Every nerve in his body went on full alert, shouting, That’s the woman you want!

  He straightened away from the car and lifted his hand as he started toward her. “Chloe.”

  She turned and the anticipated delight flashed across her face. He lengthened his stride to reach her faster but slowed when her expression changed, dimmed by a shadow that looked almost like regret. Was she going to tell him she wouldn’t let him buy her clothes? Or something worse?

  “Chloe,” he said again as he seized her shoulders and bent to kiss her, spectators be damned. Her lips were soft and warm and yielding. Her breasts under her jacket brushed tantalizingly against his chest. She gave a little mew of pleasure as he pulled her closer. He wanted to slide his hands down her back to dig his fingers into her behind and jam her hard against his erection. He contented himself with a quick pat on one perfectly curved buttock before he released her.

  She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “It’s a good thing I’m only a temp here. I’m pretty sure at least four people I work with are gawking at us.”

  “Once you’re on the sidewalk, you’re on your own time,” he said, hauling her along with him toward the privacy of the big car. He bent his head to whisper in her ear the question that had been distracting him off and on all day. “Are you wearing panties?”

  “Of course I am. It would shock the saleslady at Saks if I didn’t.”

  “I told Oskar to take at least thirty minutes to get us to Saks.” He pulled open the car door for her and helped her into the private warmth of the interior.

  “Oh, great,” she huffed as he slid onto the seat beside her. “Now Oskar knows exactly what we’re doing back here.”

  “I pay Oskar a great deal not to speculate on what I’m doing.” He sank his fingers into the tightly coiled satin of her hair and shook loose the neat bun, sifting his fingers through the glossy strands so they fell over her shoulders.

  She shivered as the back of his hand brushed the side of her soft, ripe breast. “You can pay Oskar not to talk about it, but his thoughts are beyond your control.”

  “Oskar’s may be, but I’ll bet I can focus yours for the next thirty minutes.” He wanted to push her down onto the black leather, tear off her panties, and plunge himself inside her, to feel her moving underneath him and around him. But she had a valid point about the saleslady. He reached for the top button on her blouse.

  Chloe put her palm flat on his chest and pushed him away. “We need to talk business first.”

  Surprise made him yield to the pressure of her small hand. He leaned back as she shifted onto the facing seat and looked him in the eye. Her stern expression was undercut by the wild fall of her hair, and he couldn’t stop a smile from curling the corners of his lips.

  “Stop smirking.”

  Her annoyance made his smile go wider.

  She looked out the window. “Judith called me about the position at Trainor Electronics.”

  That killed the smile. His e-mail to Roberta had gotten action faster than he’d expected. He waited.

  She turned back to him, her back ramrod straight. “Did you pull strings for me?”

  He shrugged. “I mentioned you were looking for a permanent position.”

  “When the CEO says something like that, it’s pulling strings.” She didn’t look happy.

  “Look, Phil Riviere knows how Rich Sinclair writes. He read the report you edited and was impressed. He wanted you in his department.”

  Her gaze on his face felt like a laser beam. She was weighing his words for their honesty. And they were true, as far as they went. She frowned. “Do you spend a lot of time in the marketing department?”

  He tried to reroute the conversation by letting his voice drop to a rasp. “Are you afraid I’ll distract you?”

  “I’m very focused when I’m working,” she said without reacting to his tone. “And that’s not what worries me.”

  “What is it then?”

  She shook her head and stared down at her hands. They were twisted into a knot on her lap. She straightened them out and flexed her fingers wide. “It’s a very generous offer and a great position.” She gave him an unreadable look. “I have a rule about not dating my boss.”

  “No one will know we’re involved,” he promised. Her job should bring her nowhere near the executive office, so they’d never have any reason to interact at work. Unless he needed to see her. He had a momentary fantasy of calling her up to his office and bending her over his desk. His erection throbbed again.

  “You obviously know nothing about office gossip,” she said before she looked away.

  “Chloe, there are three levels of management between your job and mine. Why would anyone care?”

  “I care,” she said in a low voice.

  “Phil wouldn’t have hired you if he didn’t believe you could do a great job. You’ll be an asset to his department.”

  She huffed out a breath that sounded more unhappy than relieved. “All right.” She scooted back to the seat beside him.

  He tried to read her expression, but she was in profile to him. “So you’ll take the job.”

  She turned her head, an imp of mischief dancing in her brown eyes. “I told Judith I’d let her know tomorrow.”

  “You are what’s known as a tease,” he said, sliding his hand around her neck to twine his fingers into her hair and tilt her head back. He nipped at the soft skin on the side of her neck before dragging his mouth down to lick the shadow of cleavage that just showed in the neckline of her blouse.

  The intake of her breath made him harder, but he had a new plan. He slipped his hand up under her skirt, finding satisfaction in the fact that she let her thighs open. When he found the lace of her panties, it was warm and damp. He hooked it aside with his thumb and slid first one and then two fingers into the moist heat of her, stroking and flexing so she bucked up off the seat. He could feel her movements become more frantic, and he slowed his.

  “Who’s teasing now?” she gasped, her hands scrabbling at the leather seat as she rode his hand.

  “I’m getting you ready.” He leaned over and took her open mouth, using his tongue to echo the deliberate rhythm of his fingers. She whimpered and tried to push herself against his hand, but he shifted to ease the pressure.

  She pulled her mouth away from him. “Ready for what?”

  “The fitting room.” He rubbed his thumb against her, loving the satiny slide of her private skin, trying to ignore the way her moan shot straight to his cock. “I want you desperate.”

  “I’m trying to be angry with you, but it’s really difficult.”

  He pressed his thumb a little harder, gauging how far he could wind her up before she went over the edge.

  “Especially when you do that.”

  He pulled his hand out from under her skirt, bringing his fingers up to inhale the fragrance of Chloe’s arousal. Then he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and regretfully wiped the delicious moisture off his fingers.

  She’d slumped back on the seat and was watching him through slitted eyes.

  “If I tasted you, I wouldn’t be able to walk into Saks,” he said.

  That made her smile, a triumphant curve of her full lips.

  “Now you’re smirking,” he said.

  “No, that’s a grimace of sexual frustration,” she said, smoothing her skirt down as she pressed her knees together.

  The car came to a stop.

  Nathan threaded his fingers through Chloe’s and lifted her hand to kiss the smooth skin on its back. “I hope the fitting room has lots of mirrors.”

  CHAPTER
21

  Chloe felt like a bundle of lit-up nerve endings. As Nathan helped her out of the car and escorted her to an unmarked bronze door on the side of the venerable retailer’s Fifth Avenue store, she could feel every brush of her clothing, every whisper of air over her skin, every point of contact between Nathan’s body and hers. It all fed the tightly wound knot of desire deep in her belly that was aching for release.

  A tall, beautiful woman whose salt-and-pepper hair contrasted dramatically with her chocolate-colored skin stood just inside the door. “Ms. Russell, Mr. Trainor,” she said, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. “I’m Faye LaBarre, your personal shopper. Let me show you what I’ve selected for you.” Her deep voice moved in the cadences of the South, and her handshake was firm.

  Nathan took Chloe’s elbow as they followed Faye to a bronze-and-wood-paneled elevator. Just that casual touch sent fire burning through her veins. The elevator was small enough that Nathan’s shoulder and hip brushed against her, and she had to quell the urge to lean into his body. Faye led them out into what looked like someone’s living room. A plush beige couch and several chairs were arranged around an open space covered by a pastel Oriental rug. An elegant brass rack hung with dresses stood in the middle of it.

  “May I offer you something to drink?” Faye asked, waving them toward the couch.

  “Water would be great, please. And call me Chloe.”

  Faye’s smile was as warm as her voice. “Sure thing, sugar. Mr. Trainor?”

  “Nathan,” he said with his own heart-grabbing smile. “Water for me as well.”

  Nathan settled onto the sofa, stretching out his long legs and sliding his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ll leave you ladies to your critical task.”

  Faye handed each of them a tall glass of water with a lime floating in it. Chloe took a gulp and turned toward the rack.

  “Nathan forwarded me the sizes you gave him and explained about the wedding you’re attending. I pulled together several ensembles I thought might work. Shall we begin?”

  Chloe took another swallow of water and set the tumbler down on a glass-topped side table. She ran her damp palm down her skirt so she wouldn’t get water spots on the beautiful clothes displayed in front of her. She saw with relief that they had tags dangling from them, so she’d be able to select by price.

  She walked to the rack and casually glanced at one of the tags, biting back an exclamation of dismay. The only information on it was the size and the designer’s name, and the name let her know it was exorbitantly expensive. She reminded herself that her appearance would reflect on Nathan, so she needed to swallow her pride, just this once.

  Faye showed her each of the half-dozen outfits, naming the designer, describing the fabrics, and discussing the accessories. As Chloe hesitated in front of the array, Faye said, “If you don’t like any of these, I have another rack for you to look at.”

  “My problem is deciding which one to try on,” Chloe said, running her fingers over the beautiful embroidery on the skirt of one dress.

  “Try them all on,” Nathan said, startling her into spinning around. She’d thought he was engrossed in his cell phone, but instead he was lounging on the couch, his arms spread across the back, the glass of water dangling from his long fingers. “I’ll help you choose.”

  “A gentleman after my own heart,” Faye said, rolling the rack toward a wide door.

  Chloe trundled along behind Faye into the huge dressing room, remembering Nathan’s comment about mirrors as her image was reflected back at her from multiple angles. He had to be kidding about having sex here, since they had a very attentive personal shopper. Chloe was both relieved and frustrated.

  “All right, let’s try the Roberto Cavalli first since you were stroking it.” Faye’s tone invited Chloe to laugh along with her. “Would you like me to help you, or would you prefer that I give you your privacy?”

  “I, um—” Chloe wasn’t accustomed to having a dresser, but when she thought about the possibility of damaging one of the delicate and expensive pieces of clothing with her inexpert handling, she decided she could use some assistance. “Please stay. I don’t want to ruin anything.”

  “With pleasure, sugar. You’re going to look stunning in this.” Faye was already unfastening the dress and slipping it off its hanger.

  Chloe stripped down to her bra and panties so the other woman could drop the dress over her head. Faye zipped it up and then pulled a shoe box from the stack on the shelf at the top of the rack. “Now just slide your feet into these.”

  Chloe couldn’t guess the cost of the dresses, but she knew her shoes, and the studded leather Sergio Rossi Mary Jane pumps were well north of a thousand dollars. She toed off her Louboutin knockoffs and reverently slid her feet into the sky-high heels. She started to lean over to fasten the straps, but Faye stopped her. “Let me get that for you.”

  Once the straps were buckled, Chloe couldn’t take her eyes off her feet. “They’re so beautiful,” she breathed.

  “Hmm.” Faye sounded less than satisfied, and Chloe lifted her eyes to find the personal shopper gazing at her with an assessing eye. Chloe looked in the mirror. The dress fit her a little too well, in her opinion, the royal-blue lace fabric following every curve.

  “Not for a wedding,” Faye said. “It would work for an intimate dinner for two, though.”

  “I’m too buxom for it, aren’t I?”

  “No, sugar, it’s too flat for you,” Faye said.

  Chloe hesitated. “Maybe I shouldn’t show it to Nathan since it’s not right for the occasion.”

  “Any man who’s willing to wait while you shop should be rewarded with a look at you in that dress.”

  “Can I have your home phone number?” Chloe joked. “I could use you when I need a little ego boosting.”

  Faye chuckled as Chloe teetered past her on the high heels.

  Nathan dropped his phone on the sofa beside him as she walked into the sitting area. She stopped in the middle of the carpet and held out her hands at her sides in a mute question. “It’s a Roberto Cavalli.”

  He frowned as his gaze skimmed down her, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “Come closer,” he said.

  Chloe walked to within three feet of him. The heels gave her so much extra height that she had to look down to meet his eyes. They were ablaze with wicked intent.

  “Now turn slowly.”

  She rotated in front of him, knowing he was teasing her. “How many mirrors are in the dressing room?” he asked when her back was to him.

  She threw him a glare over her shoulder. “Five—and Faye.”

  He gave her a light pat on the behind.

  Chloe came all the way around to face him. “There’s a security camera too.”

  “I’m a tech geek. Security cameras don’t stand a chance against me.” He leaned back. “You know why I like this dress?”

  Chloe raised her eyebrows.

  “It makes me want to rip it off you.”

  All the arousal she’d managed to tamp down burst back into full flame. “You don’t rip a Roberto Cavalli.”

  “I suppose I could use scissors.” He ran his fingertip down the side of her rib cage and along the line of her hip. “Cold steel against your soft, warm skin. That could be very erotic.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “I’d better try on the next dress.” She tried to spin on her heel and nearly fell. He caught her by the hips, holding her until she found her balance. As she teetered back to the dressing room, she could feel the imprint of his hands on her skin, almost as though they’d burned through the lacy fabric.

  “He liked it for all the wrong reasons,” Chloe told Faye as the shopper unfastened the dress and helped her out of it.

  “I’ve got the Carolina Herrera ready for you next. I have a good feeling about it.”

  The soft cotton fabric of the second dress slithered down over Chloe’s skin, evoking the brush of Nathan’s hands. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to ca
lm her racing pulse. The zipper sang as Faye ran it up her back. When Chloe opened her eyes, she knew this was the one.

  The sheath skimmed her curves in a subtly sexy way, touching but not clinging. The pattern was an impressionist version of tweed in white, gray, and a rich, soft blue. What gave the dress a high-fashion twist was the way a different fabric, a sueded cotton in solid blue, formed wide straps in front but turned into a solid yoke in the back. It was fresh, sophisticated, and perfectly appropriate for an afternoon wedding in the South.

  “Nailed it,” Faye said. “And wait until you see the shoes.”

  She pulled a box marked “Dior” from the shelf and opened it to reveal pumps of gray taffeta embroidered with a dusting of blue spangles. As Faye lifted the shoes from the box, the beads threw a confetti of sparkles around the fitting room.

  “I can’t wear these,” Chloe breathed. “They should be in a museum.”

  Faye knelt to help Chloe step into the shoes. Then she draped a featherlight shawl of cashmere around Chloe’s shoulders in a swirl of blue. “For the church. I checked the weather, and it’s all you’ll need this time of year in North Carolina.”

  She handed Chloe a neat little handbag in textured metallic leather. “By Alexander McQueen. Just enough room for what you need to carry, with a little sheen to give the outfit edge.”

  Chloe stared at her multiple images in the mirror. She looked like . . . like a woman a billionaire would take to a wedding.

  “All you need is jewelry,” Faye said. “I thought Nathan might want to choose that with you.”

  “I can handle that myself,” Chloe said. She was not accepting expensive jewelry from Nathan. It reminded her too much of the dismissal of Ms. Fogarty. With the salary Trainor Electronics would be paying her, she didn’t need a diamond bracelet to sell anymore.