“It was lunchtime,” Ruby emphasized, remembering exactly what she’d been doing during that knock. A thrill—part tactile memory, bigger part victory—traveled straight down to her center. After the way little Miss Perfect Fucking Muffet had been carrying on with Clay, this was like having a big one-up on the woman.
She flipped over to Holt’s calendar. “Hmm,” she said as if his planner wasn’t empty for the rest of the afternoon. “He can see you...next Wednesday.” All right, it was petty, but Jessica Murphy brought out the worst in her. Everything that happened with Clay was all that woman’s fault. If she’d kept her nose out of Ruby’s business...
“This can’t wait until Wednesday.” Exasperation edged Jessica’s voice, but she remained polite.
Too bad. Ruby was suddenly in the mood for a knock-down drag-out fight. “It’s the best I can do.”
Jessica opened her mouth, then closed it as if she’d thought better of what she’d been about to say.
Ruby used the opportunity to drive in a nail. “Since you’re here, I feel it’s my duty to warn you.”
Jessica visibly straightened, her jaw tightening, her expression turning guarded. “I don’t need any warnings from you.”
“Probably not, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t make sure you understand how fickle Clay can be.”
Jessica’s face flushed. “I’m not—”
Ruby didn’t let her finish. “He’ll turn on you at the drop of a hat.”
Lips set in a prim line, Jessica said, “Not if we both follow the rules.”
Ruby gave her an oh-you-poor-poor-woman look. “Do you really think a relationship should be based on rules and the subsequent punishment when they get broken? That doesn’t sound right to me.”
There were all sorts of pithy replies Jessica could make to that one because, of course, Ruby’s relationship with Clay hadn’t involved love and it was all about rules. Its demise had been all about punishment when she’d broken them. But Jessica didn’t know how to fight back. Her lips moved slightly as if she was planning what to say, but nothing made it past them.
Truthfully, Ruby was right. Clay had given her a couple of rules, but he’d allowed her to break them. In fact, he’d loved it, making for some very hot interludes. So how was she supposed to know which rules to break and which to keep? It was almost altruistic to point that out to Jessica. Wasn’t it?
“Jessica, I’m glad you dropped by.” Holt reentered the office after his quick trip to Manufacturing. Ruby didn’t feel the slightest guilt about making up that lengthy meeting he’d supposedly gone to.
“Clay told me about the new job,” Holt went on, totally oblivious to the tension in the atmosphere. “It’s West Coast’s loss, but I completely understand the choice you and Clay had to make.”
A new job? Little Miss Muffet was leaving? Ruby’s pulse was suddenly pounding.
“We didn’t want there to be any appearance of impropriety,” Jessica said softly. “But I’ve negotiated a three-week notice with my new employer, and I wanted to assure you that I’ll pass on my critical issues to Greg Stevens before I go, and I’ll also update all my procedures.”
“That’s very generous.” Holt put his hand to her elbow. “Why don’t we talk in my office?” Ushering her in, he gave Ruby his parting shot. “Hold my calls until we’re done.”
The door closed, and Ruby sat stunned. Her fingers felt numb. Jessica Murphy was leaving West Coast. She’d been in line for controller, reporting to Clay, but together they’d decided that being his direct subordinate constituted impropriety, meaning they would be in a position to manipulate the books and cover up embezzlement. Not that it would ever enter Clay’s mind to do such a thing.
Ruby damn well knew how much Jessica Murphy had wanted to be controller. Yet here she was giving up her job in order to be with Clay.
Ruby’s chest ached. She’d never considered giving up anything for a man. When a man demanded a huge sacrifice, it meant he wanted you to prove something to him. Ruby didn’t believe a woman should ever have to prove anything. He either accepted her the way she was or...she left. Yet a niggling part of her asked if maybe she’d never cared enough to give up anything.
What if Clay had wanted her to be monogamous? Would she have done that for him?
It was an unanswerable question. Clay had wanted exactly what she’d wanted. He’d adored that she loved playing the field and loved to run home to tell him all about it.
Good Lord. A worse thought struck. Was Clay going to give up his kinky ways? Because she certainly couldn’t see Jessica Murphy as a more-than-one-man woman. She was too vanilla. That was the thing Clay had wanted out of his relationship with Ruby, a woman who would play into his fantasies. Yet he wanted Jessica Murphy enough to give it all up?
Ruby felt sick. All the glorious empowerment she’d felt with Holt swirled around the drain before it was sucked down completely.
Clay loved Jessica. Ruby had been nothing more than a friend with benefits.
In the last ten years, no man—except Bradley Palmer and he didn’t count—had wanted a real relationship with her.
She’d told herself she wanted to play the field, didn’t like to be held down, that she needed her freedom, but she suddenly realized that for most men she was also easily disposable.
* * * * *
Holt found Ruby to be uncharacteristically quiet most of the afternoon. She’d done her work, tackled his questions, answered his phone, but she’d been pensive. It hadn’t been their lunchtime encounter; it began with Jessica Murphy’s visit in his office.
She’d dropped by to tell him she’d given her resignation to Clay, with a three-week notice. Of course, Clay had told him it was coming. Clay was already rearranging duties; he’d promoted Greg Stevens to controller and hired an accounting placement service to search for both a new Accounting manager and a Finance manager. His department certainly had its work cut out for it over the next few months, but true love had won.
Holt had considered himself long past the notion of true love. He’d married his high school sweetheart, and she’d gotten pregnant on the honeymoon. Everyone believed the baby had been on its way a couple of months earlier, but the truth was they hadn’t planned to be parents at all. Maria wanted to be a lawyer, and he’d mapped out a business career. The culprit in changing their course had been the antibiotics Maria was taking for an ear infection. Her doctor hadn’t warned her the medication could render the pill ineffective. Cassandra was born exactly nine months later, and they’d somehow worked out a schedule between night and day classes to both take care of the baby and attend university. He’d graduated with his MBA, though later than he’d planned and a lot of it done in night school. The problem? He’d spent more time with his books, his business career, and his daughter than he had with his wife. Once she’d made it through law school and passed the bar, they were strangers. And she’d found a lover. The divorce had been uncomplicated, they had dual custody, and he could afford a part-time nanny. He’d also realized that he didn’t miss Maria or marriage; the best thing to come out it was his daughter Cassandra.
He’d never married again, and he’d found there were plenty of willing partners who didn’t require a commitment. Only occasionally had he thought of those brilliant days of young love, the complete madness and desire. Clay and Jessica made him remember the joy. They also made him wonder if he was missing something special. Ruby made him wonder if he was missing that something special with her.
He rolled his chair back from the desk and called out to her. “Ruby.”
She appeared in the doorway. “What?” Her tone wasn’t surly, simply distracted.
She could be vain and selfish, but she also had many qualities he admired. Ruby worked hard, she was efficient, and she was loyal, always making his needs her first priority. When she turned on the charm for a business associate, they became putty in her hands, male or female alike. Not only was she smart, she made him laugh. Ruby was like a five-pound box of choco
lates, with some absolutely mouthwatering offerings on top—and a few that made you wince—but each new layer revealed brand new delights.
He could have acted like a normal man and asked her out, but issuing orders to Ruby was a hell of a lot more fun. “It’s three o’clock,” he told her.
She gave him a look. “I know how to tell time.”
“Take the rest of the afternoon off and buy some new clothes that meet my requirements.”
He’d thought the offer would erase the pensive expression, but her gaze was still distant as she said, “I’ve got work to do.”
He laughed. Ruby’s favorite pastime was shopping. “I don’t believe I actually have to make this an order.”
She pressed her lips into a flat line. “I don’t have room in that miniscule hotel closet for any new clothes.”
“Then get busy finding an apartment.” It was a practical solution, but he had a feeling that Ruby was staying at the hotel just to make Clay pay for it.
“I am looking,” she said, her teeth gritted.
He wondered when she was doing that. “I’m making an executive decision. We’re taking the afternoon off to go shopping.”
Ruby was not a woman whose jaw often dropped in shock, but it did so now. She stared at him. “You can’t take me shopping.”
“Why not?” Standing, he walked around her when she didn’t move out of his way, and grabbed his suit jacket off the rack by the door.
“It’s only three o’clock.”
“I’m the CEO, and I can leave early if I choose.” He stepped close enough to run a finger along her chin. “I can also give my admin the afternoon off as well.”
Ruby didn’t let up. “But what will everyone say?”
“Since when do you care?”
Her throat muscles worked as she swallowed. She looked at him a long moment, her lips pressed together. “All right, fine. But I’m not driving with you. I’ll meet you at the mall.”
Holt resisted a smile at the small victory. He was looking forward to pampering a woman. The last time had been his daughter on her twenty-first birthday, when he’d taken her car shopping.
With Ruby, the word pamper offered a whole new layer of delights.
Chapter Six
In general, men hated shopping. But Holt had never been like other men; he’d never been like other bosses. He was a law unto himself, and he’d actually picked out the ensembles he wanted her to wear at work. Now he was lounging on a seat in the outer dressing room, which was equipped with several comfortable chairs, coffee service, and several magazines, including Fortune 500 and The Economist. After the first dress she’d modeled for him, other women began to solicit his comments. Holt was that way, charming, putting people at ease, flattering yet diplomatic, pointing out styles that would work better.
“Those lounging pants don’t do your pretty legs justice,” he told a woman who’d chosen a pair of balloon pants, like something a harem eunuch would wear. The crotch hung past her knees and made her calves look the size of an elephant’s. “Try those Capri pants on the next rack,” Holt suggested. “They’re perfect for you.”
He must have learned all the style names from his daughter, who was an L.A. designer. And damn if Holt wasn’t right. In the baby blue Capris, the woman’s elephantine calves became almost attractive. He had an amazing sense of fashion, though why Ruby should have been surprised was beyond her since he always looked downright yummy in his executive wear. Ruby found herself wanting his approval as well.
She pivoted before him on her high heels.
“Perfect,” he said in a voice on the edge of husky.
He’d chosen a black pencil skirt that hit her midcalf, with a slit along the line of her left knee and stretching halfway up her thigh. He’d had the salesclerk bring in a package of black silk thigh-highs. The skirt’s matching jacket was fitted to accentuate Ruby’s hourglass figure, with a delicate filigree design in cream braid and a neckline that barely dipped into her cleavage.
Everything was covered—even the thigh-high slit wasn’t as revealing as one of her regular work skirts—yet his gaze was like a lick across her bare flesh, and the glint in his eye was a like a whisper: Fuck me now.
Ruby shivered with anticipation. What was there about him that suddenly held her captive? She’d worked for him almost four years, so what was up with this big shift? Was it only because he’d started showing interest in her?
Whatever. She was enjoying the interlude. It took the sting out of Clay’s defection. In her present mood, she could go so far as to feel just a tiny bit happy that he’d found a good thing, even if it was with Little Miss Muffet. Now that Jessica was leaving, Ruby wouldn’t have to see her giddy face. Those thoughts and more had occupied her afternoon. Then Holt had shocked the hell out of her with this shopping expedition. Shopping had been anathema to Clay, except when he was helping her pick out lingerie for a date. In the beginning, he’d liked to dress her for another man. It started his motor running before she even left the house. But that level of involvement had been over long ago.
Now there was Holt, dressing her for the work day, hiding her assets as if he was keeping them all to himself. Ruby liked the sense of possessiveness.
“Shall I buy it?” She’d never asked a man for permission.
He crooked his finger at her until she leaned close over him, then he spoke for her alone. “I will buy everything. I’ll own your clothes just like I own you.”
She wanted to snap back indignantly. No man owned her, nor had she sponged off anyone. She’d lived in Clay’s house, but she’d paid her own expenses, and she’d given him as many gifts as he’d given her. Letting him pay for the hotel room was only right since he’d kicked her out with hardly any notice. She wasn’t a taker, and she wasn’t a pushover or a slave. Yet Holt’s words brought to life a kernel of heat deep inside. Need burgeoned, not just sexual, but something new, different, exciting.
Ruby didn’t argue with Holt. Or herself. “What shall I try on for you next?”
“The red skirt and blouse.”
“Whatever you say. Master,” she added, just for fun. She drew in a deep breath of him before she pulled away. Holt’s scent was delectable, a light aftershave laced with his masculine aroma.
In the dressing room, she stripped down and reached for the outfit he wanted. She would never have chosen the wraparound skirt and loose blouse. Yet the tie could be pulled, dropping the skirt to the floor. The blouse was sheer and could easily be removed. Though the cotton camisole beneath didn’t unbutton, it could be pushed up over her breasts.
Exiting her dressing room, another thrill shot through her. Holt did things to her with nothing more than a look, shooting her pulse rate high. She didn’t even mind that he hadn’t given her an orgasm today. It was all in the anticipation he created within her.
And God, he was handsome. The salesclerk fawned over him. The other ladies flitted in front of him like colorful butterflies. Yet somehow the man made her feel as if he had eyes only for her. She was used to being the center of attention—she’d certainly never had a man steal all her thunder—but she loved being the envy of every woman.
Holt twirled a finger, and Ruby pirouetted for him, the wraparound swirling. He gave her a slow, appreciative perusal, then nodded slightly with approval.
Despite the overabundance of material covering her, she’d never felt sexier. With the next outfit, she left her panties in the dressing room. By the time she’d tried on eight different ensembles—Holt had chosen five of them for purchase—she was trembling with desire. If he’d ordered her to, she would have dragged him into her dressing cubicle and let him do anything he wanted.
But all Holt did was hand the salesgirl his credit card and have her bag Ruby’s purchases, including several pairs of thigh-highs in various colors. In this exclusive section of the store, the clerks were paid based on sales, and the woman was breathless with her commission.
It was dark by the time they reached her car, a
nd Ruby was starving, both for dinner and other things that only Holt could provide. The evening ahead was limitless.
She popped her trunk lid, and Holt set the boxes and bags inside.
Now. Do me here. Please. She’d have taken him in the backseat, blown him in the front seat. All he had to do was issue an order.
Holt snicked the trunk closed. Then, quick as a flash of lightning, he grabbed her chin and pinned her to the car with his body. “You are not to touch yourself. No vibrator. No orgasms. Nothing.”
Maybe if she begged. “Please. I need something.” Ruby was beyond caring that she never begged.
His breath puffed against her lips. “Nothing.”
“Oh God.”
She realized she’d said it aloud when he answered her. “God’s got nothing to do with it. You’ve already had one orgasm today.”
“It wasn’t enough. And I had to do it myself.” She sounded whiny.
He laughed. Of course, he wanted her whining and begging. “Be good over the weekend, and I might allow it on Monday.”
“Monday?” It was an effort not to screech.
“In my office. While I have you bent over my desk. Maybe I’ll even have my cock buried inside you when I let you come.”
“Oh God.” This time she knew she’d said it aloud, and she didn’t care. “Promise?” The image made her wild.
“Only if you’re a good girl.”
“I’ll be so good,” she vowed, which was a unique sensation since she’d never made a vow in case she needed to break it later on.
Then he lowered his mouth to hers, and she forgot everything. Holt’s taste was like nothing she’d ever experienced, hot with power over her, delicious with desire. Ruby responded by devouring him. She went deep with her tongue, then took him deep. Her arms tight around him, she refused to let go, clinging. She’d never been a clingy woman, but Holt inspired it in her. She didn’t care where they were; she needed him right this minute. She pushed a hand between their vacuum-packed bodies.
Submitting to the Boss: A West Coast Hotwifing Novel, Book 2 Page 4