Sex, Lies and Dirty Secrets

by Jamie Sobrato

“Just you?” he said, one eyebrow cocked.

  “Okay—we may be otherwise engaged. Happy now?”

  “Extremely.”

  With all their talking, Macy hadn’t been paying much attention to where they were going, and only now she realized that they’d managed to get themselves up onto a walkway that crossed over the strip.

  “Do we have any idea where we’re headed?” she asked.

  Griffin pointed to a huge hotel with a lake in front of it. “The Bellagio is over there. I figured we’d try to catch one of the fountain shows.”

  “I’m getting hungry. Feel like grabbing some dinner?”

  “I know a place inside the Bellagio. Unbelievable fondue. Sound good?”

  “Perfect,” she said.

  They smiled at each other kind of goofily, and suddenly they were locked in one of those movie moments when time stands still and the audience knows that there’s a big shift occurring in the relationship. They were going from competitive coworkers scrambling to get the same promotion, to star-crossed lovebirds sadly doomed to a failed relationship—only they don’t know it yet.

  Except, Macy did know it. And she hated that she knew it. And she wished like hell that she could have had this weekend without the foreknowledge of the train wreck to come.

  GRIFFIN WASN’T normally a fondue kind of guy, but there was something about eating food on a stick with a woman that was distinctly erotic. The whole thing had serious foreplay possibilities. Freud probably would have had a field day with the concept, but hey.

  They wandered through the casino, relying on Griffin’s shaky memory of the restaurant’s location. Around them, the din of slot machines dinging and whirring combined with the smoke in the air and the passing scantily-clad cocktail waitresses had Griffin feeling as though he was doing something slightly scandalous, which only heightened his arousal.

  That damn kiss had left him nearly insane with wanting Macy. What was he going to do when they had to work together again come Monday? Drag her to the nearest bathroom stall and have sleazy public-restroom sex?

  Even that thought turned him on. He was a basket case.

  Macy tugged him toward a row of slot machines. “I’ve got some extra quarters to blow,” she said. “I’m getting tired and thirsty. Let’s take a break and buy a drink.”

  She sat down at a machine and Griffin sat at the one next to her.

  “I think this is why they make the restaurants hard to find—so you’ll get lost and end up gambling instead.”

  “Clearly it’s an excellent strategy,” she said as she fed a quarter into her machine.

  Griffin spotted a waitress and waved her over. “What would you like to drink?” he asked Macy.

  “A cosmopolitan might quench my thirst,” she said as her slot machine whirred and stopped on a losing spread.

  He placed their order with the waitress, then turned and watched Macy continue to feed quarters into the slot.

  “You’re not having much luck,” he said after her tenth or eleventh loss.

  “I don’t really believe in luck. So probably I shouldn’t be gambling. I just wanted to try it once.”

  “You’ve never gambled before?”

  “You just watched me lose my virginity,” she said.

  “Should I feel honored?”

  “Not yet.” A little smile played on her lips, and Griffin remembered again why she drove him so crazy at work.

  She was the perfect ingenue. So seemingly sweet and guileless, but just beneath the surface lurked a woman who wielded her feminine charms like a deadly weapon.

  It took little more than a look, a smile, the slightest gesture, and he could have his entire train of thought wiped away, replaced by fantasies of her and him and a lot of sweaty sex.

  She turned her attention back to the machine. “I’ve got five more quarters. The odds are in favor of my winning something soon, right?”

  “If it’s all about the odds and not luck, I’d say the best you can hope for is getting your quarters back.”

  “Oh ye of little faith.”

  Another quarter in the slot, and the cherries all lined up. The machine lit up, and fifty quarters came dinging out.

  “See,” Macy said. “It’s not luck. It’s just odds. And I didn’t win much—further proof that no luck was involved.”

  “Hey, I’m not arguing with you. Most people’s seeming luck is hard work and planning, but you can’t spend any time on a sports field without knowing that sometimes luck enters into it.”

  “You still play any sports?” Macy asked.

  The waitress arrived, gave them their drinks and Griffin paid her.

  “I play softball, basketball, soccer, the occasional round of golf, volleyball—”

  “Okay, okay, you still play sports.”

  She had to have heard of his athletic abilities around the office, where he’d pretty much dominated everyone who’d challenged him to a match of anything after work hours.

  “How about you?”

  “I’m not very coordinated, and I’m afraid of balls.”

  He tried not to laugh.

  “The big ones that come careening toward my head during athletic events, I mean.”

  “Absolutely. I wasn’t thinking anything else.”

  She rolled her eyes and started gathering her tokens up in a plastic cup that had been sitting beside the machine.

  “So what do you do to stay in such great shape?”

  “Kickboxing aerobics classes twice a week and Budokon twice a week. Plus roller-skating on Sundays.”

  “What’s Budokon?”

  “It combines martial arts, yoga and meditation. Sounds weird, but it’s actually very cool.”

  Griffin was trying not to be impressed, but he was. For a girly girl, she had a pretty kick-butt workout routine. And he had a weakness for women who stayed in shape.

  “And you go roller-skating? Like at a roller rink?”

  “No, at Golden Gate Park. Sunday afternoons it’s the happening place to be. And it makes me feel like a kid again, except without all the misery and angst.”

  “I can’t believe you were a miserable kid.”

  “Believe it. If you knew my mother, you’d see why.”

  “What’s with all the aggressive aerobic workouts?” he asked, then downed a good long swallow of his Heineken, trying not to get a boner from the image of Macy dressed in skimpy workout clothes, sweaty and practicing kicking ass.

  “I’ve got lots of pent-up rage, I guess,” she said with a self-deprecating smile.

  “From?”

  “Maybe from the aforementioned mother—I don’t know. Or maybe from being the biggest nerd in school and never having the guts to stand up for myself.”

  “There’s no way you were a nerd.”

  “Oh, yes, there is.” She finished gathering her tokens, then polished off her cosmo in one long drink. “Let’s go cash these in,” she said.

  Griffin followed her to the cashier’s counter, and once Macy had collected her money, they got directions to the fondue place and discovered they’d been only one wrong turn from getting there.

  The restaurant was sleek and modern, with lots of dark shiny surfaces and low, moody lighting. Each table consisted of a round booth, and a hostess led them to a small one made for two. They slid into the seat, where it was nearly impossible not to touch when sitting together. Knees and hips brushing against each other, Griffin decided this was an even better place to bring a date than he’d remembered.

  They checked out the menus, placed their orders, and the waitress quickly came back with a complimentary appetizer cheese fondue and rosemary bread for dipping.

  Macy dipped a piece of bread and took a bite. “I could take a bath in this stuff,” she said afterward.

  “I’d like to watch that.”

  “You’re not about subtlety, are you?”’

  “Subtlety’s overrated.” Griffin took a bite of bread dipped in fondue, but he barely tasted it.

&n
bsp; He was too focused on the sight of Macy taking a bite herself, and the way her mouth looked so impossibly erotic with that slightest drip of cheese on her lower lip that she tried and failed to retrieve with a flick of her tongue. His sadly predictable cock stirred, like clockwork, and he shifted to ease the tightness of his pants. But that led to his leg entangling with Macy’s, and then he wasn’t sure if he wanted to sit through a whole damn dinner suffering this kind of delicious agony.

  Couldn’t they just go back to the hotel room now and get naked?

  Well, he probably wouldn’t win any points for subtlety or class by suggesting it now. But he could hurry things along a little by making sure Macy was suffering the same kind of agony as him. It only seemed fair.

  He slipped his hand across her thigh and inadvertently pushed her skirt up. Which left his hand on her bare, silky thigh.

  She paused in mid chew and looked at him as though she was amused in either a good way or a bad way by his boldness. When she edged her thigh closer, inviting his hand to go farther up, he had to assume it was the good kind of amusement.

  The dim lighting and the mostly enclosed booths gave them just enough privacy that an onlooker would have to be straining pretty hard to see what was going on under the table. Griffin slid his hand a little farther toward heaven; her eyes fluttered shut, and her mouth softened.

  Tempting his self-control, he leaned forward and kissed her. His tongue brushed against the drop of cheese on her lip, licked it off, then took the time to explore the rest of her lip’s satiny surface. When he summoned all his self-control to pull away, her eyes were still closed.

  And when she looked at him again, her sultry brown eyes were clouded with blatant desire, a do-me expression so loud and clear he was surprised other people weren’t staring.

  But the restaurant was only half-full, and the tables were arranged for maximum privacy so that none of the booth openings faced each other. There really wasn’t anyone, other than passersby, who could even stare.

  He eased his hand up farther, and his fingertips brushed the warm juncture of her thighs. Her gaze turned daring.

  She smiled a secret little smile. “I dare you.”

  Her thighs parted, and all the blood left his brain. He should have passed out, but being a typical guy he had plenty of experience with blood rushing to his groin, and somehow he managed to remain upright.

  Her panties were the silky kind, and they didn’t seem to cover much. Griffin slipped his fingers over the top of them, down to where she was hottest, over her clit, and she made a purring sound low in her throat that could have toppled lesser men.

  This wasn’t the kind of dipping he’d had in mind when he’d suggested they get fondue, but hell, sometimes the best things in life were the unplanned events, the little invitations out of the blue, the secret exchanges under the table.

  She picked up another piece of bread and dipped it in the pot of cheese, then offered it to him. He took a bite, keeping his gaze pinned on her, and then she ate the remaining bread slowly as she watched him.

  He glided his fingers over her, back and forth, back and forth, watching her melt against the seat. When the waitress arrived and placed their dinner fondue on the table, along with trays of their dipping meats and vegetables, he stilled his hand, and Macy cast him a mock-offended look.

  When the waitress left, Macy said, “Why’d you stop?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t want to get busted and have to try and fit our fondue into carryout containers.”

  “Yeah, the fire probably wouldn’t travel well.”

  “Or we’d have to extinguish it, and by the time we got to the hotel we’d have blocks of cheese instead of dip.”

  “I’ll feed you if you’ll go back to what you started,” she whispered as she dipped a carrot stick in fondue and offered it to him.

  “That’s the best offer I’ve had in a while,” he said, then took a bite as he slipped his fingers under the edge of her panties.

  Her eyes fluttered shut again, and she dropped the carrot on a tray. As he glided his fingers between her lips and over her clit, he could see her breath growing shallow, could almost taste her. He slipped a finger inside her, where she was slick and wet, and suddenly the whole idea of eating dinner seemed preposterous.

  What the hell had they been thinking? They could have been in a hotel room by now, getting it on while they waited for room service. Screw room service, he didn’t really need anything to eat except Macy.

  “What do you say we blow this fondue joint?” he asked.

  She opened her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing a very good job of upholding my end of the bargain by feeding you.”

  “I’m not really interested in eating carrots right now.”

  She made a sad face. “I ruined dinner for you?”

  “I’d rather have you for dinner.”

  “I really work better as a dessert. And if we leave now, I’ll lose my chance to entice you with lots of mouth and tongue work on the carrot sticks.”

  Griffin smiled at her ability to make fun of herself. But with his finger still inside her, he wasn’t really in the mood for conversation. He glided his slick fingertips over her clit, around in circles, slowly, as her eyes took on that glazed look again.

  He wanted to make her come right here in the middle of the restaurant. He’d never done anything so public before, aside from a stupid stunt in high school under the football stadium bleachers, but as an adult… Macy wiped away all his reservations, all his common sense and apparently all his fear of being arrested.

  She was getting wetter and wetter, and just when he thought she was about to come, she pulled away. Moved her leg, gently removed his hand from her, and made some adjustments to her clothes as she put a discreet distance between them.

  She smiled a slow, wicked smile. “I don’t want to have dessert first,” she said. “Let’s save some fun for later.”

  “I’ve got all kinds of fun in mind for later. I thought that was just an appetizer.”

  The tightened coil inside him loosened, and while his cock was still hard, he could feel some of his sense coming back to him. Okay, he could wait. He could play the respectable guy, sit here and eat dinner, delay gratification.

  No problem.

  “We can’t let all this fondue go to waste, I guess.”

  She picked up a piece of salami, dipped it and took a bite. He stared at her mouth again, mesmerized.

  Sure, he could make it through dinner. He might have to go to the bathroom and hammer some nails into the wall with his erection, but he could make it no problem.

  5

  WHEN THE waitress asked about dessert, Macy could only think of obscene things to do with melted chocolate. Turned out, the restaurant had a fondue-to-go container that kept the stuff hot for up to three hours, and with that news Macy and Griffin had promptly placed an order for chocolate and strawberries to go.

  She would never be able to think of dipping fondue the same way again. And she had no idea how she’d survive the rest of the night, let alone the rest of the weekend, without coming.

  Okay, so Griffin could be an arrogant jerk at work. She had to focus on that. She had to remember that he was the kind of handsome jock who’d alternately ignored her and made fun of her in high school. She had to remember that this was revenge of the nerd. It wasn’t about getting her groove on. It was about getting even, and getting Griffin dumbed down for his Monday presentation.

  By the time they made it to the hotel elevator, there was no longer any room for pretending that they cared about making a spectacle in public.

  When the elevator dropped off the only other couple on board on the third floor and they were alone, Griffin dropped the bag of dessert on the floor and pinned Macy against the elevator wall. He devoured her in an urgent kiss, and the feel of his erection thrilled her for all the wrong reasons. She should have been excited that her plan was working so far, but instead she could only think of finally having Griffin insid
e her.

  Finally having him.

  His hands grazed her breasts and her traitorous rock-hard nipples, and his tongue teased hers. He tasted vaguely like beer, and he felt exactly like heaven.

  But why was she so thrilled to have him? Was this really revenge of the nerd if the nerd so lacked self-respect that she was still thrilled to have the attention of Mr. Popularity?

  God, she was pitiful.

  She summoned all her strength and pulled away, gently urging his hands off her, then slipping out from between him and the elevator wall.

  “I forgot, security cameras,” she said, nodding at the one in the corner. “Wouldn’t want some bubba to get off watching us.”

  Griffin smiled. “So now you’re being modest?”

  “There weren’t any cameras under the table at the restaurant. Or at least I hope there weren’t.”

  The elevator stopped, Griffin retrieved dessert from the floor, and they got out. They walked down the hallway toward their suites holding hands.

  “Your place or mine?” he asked.

  “I’m waiting to hear from my friend Lauren, so my place.”

  Macy tried to psych herself into being detached from this whole sexing up Griffin thing, but she couldn’t get past actually being attracted to him. This was all wrong. She wasn’t supposed to fall for the big jerk-ass. But then again, he wasn’t acting like a big jerk-ass, and she was just confused as hell.

  “Something wrong?” Griffin asked. “You seem like something upset you in the elevator.”

  And for a jerk-ass, he was surprisingly perceptive. How come he never managed to pick up on her feelings at work? Or maybe he did, but didn’t think they mattered when it came to business….

  Dear God, she was confused.

  “No, I mean. Well, maybe. I guess I’m just freaking out a little.”

  “Because?”

  “Up until today, we were just two people who worked together and didn’t get along especially well.”

  “Sexual tension. It can wreak havoc in the workplace. So we’re actually doing each other a favor by diffusing it.”