The Louisiana Liaisons Series Box Set

by Chance, Lynda

  He turned on his heel and strode to the door.

  “Jake, wait. I’m not going to go out with him. You have to know that. Please don’t go.”

  With his hand on the door, he turned toward her and studied her a moment. “It’s late, Amy. Kayla will be home soon. I’ll see you later.”

  He turned and left.

  Amy let out a small sob. The worst part was his control. He should have been out of control. He should have been pushing her against the wall and ripping her panties off and demanding her submission.

  It terrified her that he didn’t.

  Chapter Ten

  By Friday evening, Amy was getting desperate. Her nerves were shot and her emotions were in a tangle. It didn’t help that Kayla was spending the night with a friend. She didn’t have anything to take her mind off of Jake.

  She wanted to see him. Touch him. Hold him. She wanted to be with him so badly she could taste it. Was he waiting for her to make the first move? Maybe to apologize again? She would.

  She picked up her phone before she could change her mind. What good did pride do a person at a time like this anyway?

  She keyed in, ‘I’m sorry,’ and pressed send.

  Five minutes later, he answered. ‘Don’t worry about it’ Don’t worry about it! What did that mean? Did he even care anymore? Had he ever cared?

  ‘Do you forgive me?’ Well, now her pride was non-existent. But they said pride was a sin, and she certainly didn’t want to sin.

  ‘Nothing to forgive.’

  Amy’s frustration level grew. ‘Can I come over?’

  His answer was swift. ‘For a booty call?’

  Asshole. Men were such dicks. Why women ever bothered, she sometimes didn’t know. ‘Would you say yes to that?’

  ‘I wouldn’t turn it down.’

  ****

  Amy pulled into his driveway twenty minutes later. She had put her nightgown and toothbrush in her bag, just in case. He was waiting for her by the back door.

  “Where’s Kayla?” He just stood there, nonchalant, and didn’t make a move for her.

  “She’s spending the night with a friend.” Amy walked in and he closed the door.

  “Well, that makes it kind of convenient, doesn’t it?” His tone was sarcastic.

  She took a deep breath. She had her work cut out for her. “Listen, Jake—”

  “No. You listen, Amy. I don’t want to hear anymore of your bullshit excuses. This is a booty call. We’re fuck buddies. Got it?” His arms crossed in front of him. The barriers were firmly in place.

  Amy swallowed. “Are we, Jake? Still fuck buddies? Still just you and me, right?” She had to make sure that stipulation was still in place.

  “Yes, goddammit. Nobody else.” Antagonism radiated from him.

  Amy hesitated a second and then dropped her bag and started walking toward him. “Okay, then.”

  Jake watched her glide toward him. He tried to stamp out the emotion that he shouldn’t be feeling. Why the hell did he have to feel shit all of a sudden? Almost forty fucking years and nothing like this had ever happened to him before. But the five days without her were taking a toll on him. He had gotten used to having the sexual outlet so quickly. Damn. He really was spoiled. But no matter how fucked up his emotions were, the sight and scent of her had hardened him instantaneously.

  He reached out, lifted her up and carried her to the couch. He toppled them over until they were laying side by side, facing each other. He wasted no time and fastened his mouth to hers.

  Amy felt her head swim as his tongue dove deep into her mouth. She immediately adjusted her leg and lifted it over his. She reached down to rub his erection through his jeans. He groaned and moved his hand under her skirt, to the silk triangle covering her.

  They lay together and petted and kissed each other. She unfastened his jeans and put her hand around him. His hand slid her panties aside and sunk a finger deep into her. She began rocking on his finger and jacking his penis at the same time. Slowly. She let go of his mouth for a second and reached her hand up to her tongue. She opened her eyes and stared into his as her tongue swiped the palm of her hand.

  She closed her eyes and put her mouth back on his. Her hand moved back down to him.

  Jake felt the small, wet hand enfold him and thought he was going to die and go to heaven right then and there. His breathing was ragged and the sound of her moans was addictive. Her hips pumped faster. Jake tore his mouth free. “Shit. I’m about to come, babe.”

  “Yes, yes, me, too. Come in my hand, Jake. Come in my hand.” It was all he heard as he jerked against her and spilled his seed.

  Amy felt him harden even more as the wet stickiness rushed into her palm. It was all she needed to push her over the edge. Her internal muscles grasped his finger and she pushed against him as she held him tightly and screamed in release.

  They lay entwined until their breathing became normal again. Both were lost in their own thoughts.

  Jake couldn’t believe he didn’t have the upper hand in this situation. It was ridiculous. He wanted all of her, but seemed willing to settle for whatever small amount she would give him. It pissed him off no small degree.

  Amy was stunned at the passion they shared. She had had sex for so many years with her husband, and it was never like this. Never had they lost control from petting. She never experienced the level of release that Jake gave her.

  Jake released her from his hold and stood up and walked to the kitchen. He returned in a moment with a wet cloth.

  He dropped it in her hand. Amy caught it and looked up at him. The shutters were down again. What had she done? What had she done with one unthinking sentence?

  “Okay, hon. That was fun. I’ll see you Monday.”

  Hon? Since when did he call her ‘hon?’ He called her babe, sweetheart, and Amy, and all with a level of tenderness. Or raunchiness. The ‘hon’ was quite sarcastic. A flyaway endearment. Something he might call a whore. Amy saw red.

  She stood up, wiped her hands off and adjusted her clothing. She was through with begging him for forgiveness. She tossed the rag back at him and almost lost it when she saw the comical look on his face when faced with his own mess.

  “Whatever.” She brushed passed him.

  He grabbed her arm. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “What the hell do you mean by treating me like a whore?”

  “A whore?” He roared. “When did I do that?”

  “I quote. That was fun. I’ll see you Monday.” She pulled on her arm. “How was that supposed to make me feel? Like you respect and care for me?”

  He dropped her arm and stepped away from her. “Fuck. I do respect and care for you. Too goddamn much. What do you expect from me Amy? How exactly do you want me to treat you? You give me so much as a nod in the right direction, and I’ll lay it all out for you, sweetheart.” He began to shout. “You already know.” He grabbed his hair with his hands. “Fuck it. You already know. I love you. Goddamn it. I love you.

  She stared at him as her heart melted around her.

  He continued his rant. “I fell for you. Bad. I’ve got it bad for you, Amy. You’ve got to decide. This is going to kill me. I can let you go. Probably. If I have to. But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep sleeping with you. Having you, but not having you. I’m not going to quit being a cop. Not anytime soon, anyway. I love it. It’s my life. You’ve got to make a decision. You can either handle it, or you can’t. You either want in, or you want out. You either love me, or you don’t.”

  He stopped talking and looked at her. Amy stared back, her eyes swimming in tears. She walked toward him. She put her hands on his chest and whispered, “I’m in.”

  Jake felt his heart slam against his ribcage. “Don’t mess with me, Amy. Just rip the goddamn bandage off with one sharp pull.”

  Her hand moved up to his cheek. “I love you, Jake. I’m crazy about you. I can handle it, I promise. I don’t want to lose you.” She smiled weakly at him.

/>   “You love me? Did you just say you love me?” His voice was hoarse.

  “Yes, I love you. I’ve probably loved you from the beginning. I’ve been in denial a long time. God knows it started out as lust, but I knew right away you were going to be trouble. You’ve been right all along, I was running from you from the very beginning.” Her voice was soft, her eyes softer.

  “Come here, babe.” He took her by the hand and pulled her down on the couch. He placed her on his lap, and her head fell against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her so she couldn’t run.

  “There’s something you’ve got to understand. Something you’ve got to agree to. I don’t care where we live. My house, your house, or a new house altogether. But we’re going to have to get married. I don’t want short term. This is it. Commitment time. Real commitment. I want to live with you. Every day. I want you to sleep in my bed, every night. We can live wherever you think we will have enough room for me, you, and Kayla. Okay?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was soft.

  “Yes, you’ll marry me?” This was it. He held his breath.

  “Yes, I’ll live with you every day, and sleep with you every night. Yes, Jake, I’ll marry you.” She reached for his mouth with hers.

  Jake felt a surge of relief hit him. The tension left his body. He opened his mouth for her and his tongue tangled with hers. He put his hand to the back of her head and lifted her for a deeper penetration. They shared kisses and caresses and whispered words of lust and love.

  When her breathing deepened, he lifted his head and said, “You’re going to tell that son of a bitch that you’re never going out with him.”

  She smiled into his eyes and said, “Absolutely.”

  ###

  Book Three

  Bedded by the Boss

  By: Lynda Chance

  ****

  KINDLE EDITION

  ****

  Bedded by the Boss: Book Three of Louisiana Liaisons

  When Renee Guillot starts her new job with better pay and benefits, she thinks her only worry will be a lack of job security. Little does she know she will be working for the Devil Incarnate. Suddenly, she is tossed into a world of sexual coercion and dangerous temptation.

  Robert Thibodeaux can’t be bothered with the mundane details of hiring his own secretary. So when his new employee shows up for work, one look is enough to know it will never work out. Getting her out of his office and into his bed isn’t an easy maneuver. But that is exactly what he wants, and it is only a matter of time before he makes it happen.

  Bedded by the Boss

  Copyright © 2011 by Lynda Chance

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ****

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

  ****

  Dedication

  To Clayton:

  Thanks for Galveston County; home at last

  Chapter One

  Renee Guillot balanced one high heel on the chair and one knee on the counter while reaching up and digging through the top cabinet looking for a box of manila folders. She clutched a cordless phone in one hand as she precariously reached up higher with the other. Her calf muscles flexed and strained as the heel of her shoe came off the chair as she lifted onto her tiptoes.

  As soon as her ninety-day trial period was over, she swore the first thing she was going to do was reorganize the whole office. The filing system was backwards, the ordering process was antiquated, and the damn storage system was ridiculous. Mrs. Argenot was extremely kind-hearted, but she was getting very old.

  “Get off that damn chair before you kill yourself.” Renee heard the bark and grabbed the cabinet door. Her nerves shot to hell when she recognized the voice. She didn’t even know he was in the city, let alone the building. Damn it! He was supposed to be in New Orleans all week.

  There was ferocious intensity in his command and Renee decided not to antagonize him further. She tossed the box down and carefully placed her other foot on the chair. Great. Now she was leaning over with her butt in the air pointed toward him. She continued down and off the chair as gracefully as she could with four-inch heels and a pencil skirt that ended five inches above her knees. It was one of her favorite outfits, but she had only worn it because he was not supposed to be in Baton Rouge this week.

  Robert Thibodeaux savagely controlled the primal emotions gripping him. Renee Guillot was a serious mistake and he had realized it the first time he met her five weeks before. Her physical perfection was bad enough, but the earthiness that pulsed from her body had a provocative effect on him that wouldn’t let up. The woman was sexy, no question about it. Sexy in a way that was giving him no respite, day or night.

  As Renee slowly turned to face him, she admonished herself for letting him get to her. He was like any other man. Any other boss. She absolutely refused to think about his astounding good looks. He had no impact on her. Absolutely none. She wouldn’t allow it.

  She was just about to speak when the phone in her hand started ringing. Thank God. She needed something to occupy her for a few moments while she tried to regain control. She pressed the talk button and lifted the phone to her ear. “Thibodeaux Construction. Renee speaking.”

  “This is Jane Thibodeaux. I need to speak to my husband, please.” The voice on the other end of the line was breathy and held not a trace of Louisiana accent. Renee knew she was talking to East Coast upper crust.

  Renee forced good cheer into her voice. “Just one moment please, Mrs. Thibodeaux. I’ll get him for you.”

  She looked back at her boss, standing quietly watching her with displeasure on his face. She cleared her throat and looked away. “Your wife needs to speak to you.” She lifted the phone in his direction.

  His face darkened with irritation. He crossed his arms over his chest and made no move to pick up the phone. “My ex-wife. I’m not married. I haven’t been married for five years.” The words were both accusing and menacing.

  Renee suddenly heard a roaring sound in her ears and she started to shake. Both relief and distress consumed her.

  She slowly lifted her eyes back to his and was immediately caught by the impact of his stare. She sucked in a breath. His eyes held hers. One second, two seconds, three seconds, four—

  She lowered her lashes as tension continued to grip her.

  There would be repercussions for this knowledge.

  The phone was taken from her hand. Renee felt mild hysteria clawing its way up her throat. She leaned against the supply cabinet.

  Robert’s deep voice intruded into the maelstrom of emotions rushing through her. “What do you want, Jane?” His voice was sharp, punctuated with impatience. His eyes were still on Renee, moving slowing up and down her length. “You’ll get the damn check on the first of the month, and not a day before. You have a problem with that, call your lawyer.” He ended the call.

  Robert turned his full attention back to his new secretary. She was standing still in front of the storage cabinet and looked like she might snap in two. “You thought I was married.” It was a statement. “Why?”

  Renee was dismayed to be feeling so much confusion. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. She tried to form an answer. “When you hired me, Mrs. Argenot said—”

  He cut her off. “Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t hire you. Mrs. Argenot hired you.”

  Renee watched him with trepidation. What did he mean by that? Why the distinction? “O-Okay. When sh-she hired me, she explained about your phone calls. Which ones are urgent, and which are n-not.” She finished in
a rush. “She said you always wanted to know when Mrs. Thibodeaux called.”

  “Yeah. I like to stay one step ahead of the greedy bitch.” As Robert answered, a flash of understanding came to him.

  The way Renee had treated him Friday night when he ran into her at the Ninth Street Wine Grotto. The encounter had struck a nerve. He had consumed one too many, and the fierce restraint he always imposed in her presence had slipped a notch.

  He remembered feeling a stroke of luck at finding her alone in the bar where she was waiting for her friends to show up. The silkiness of her hair when he reached out and stroked it. The distress on her face when he bought her a drink.

  And the accusation in her eyes just before she jumped up and ran from him. Like he was lower than slime. A despicable human being. Like he wanted to have a ménage with her mother. Or make her watch him masturbate in the men’s room. Or like he was…married.

  Shit.

  Two things were clear to him. She couldn’t continue to work for him, and he had to have sex with her. In that order.

  He had to run her off. Make her leave his employ. And when that was accomplished, she would become the starring attraction in his bed.

  He considered the ways he could reach his goal. The situation could blow up into a major catastrophe if he wasn’t careful. He could simply terminate her employment. She still had about eight more weeks of her ninety day probation period. He could just tell her it wasn’t working out and that would be that. He had that right as her employer. But he wanted it to be her decision. That would make a smoother segue into his bed. A vision of what she would look like, naked, with that blonde hair loose all around her came to him. Wearing those come fuck me heels and nothing else. Blood rushed to his groin. Fuck. He had been in a state of constant arousal for five weeks.

  What the hell had Mrs. Argenot been thinking? He never would have hired somebody that looked like her. Never in a million fucking years. He liked to think of himself as a fair and responsible employer. But Jesus Christ, he wasn’t a saint. Having her in the same office, having to work with her side by side, and never getting to touch her was never going to work for the long term. Short term was killing him.