by Lacey Black
My heart speeds up and tap dances in my chest just thinking about him. The way he looks sitting behind his large mahogany desk. His perfect hair the color of smooth caramel, his eyes hidden behind glasses so deep brown that they almost look black. Until you’re close–close enough to feel his breath on your face–where you can see the brown ring around his iris. The way his lips feel against mine, a dance so slow and sweet that I’m left breathless and yearning.
“Earth to Payton,” Grandma says, waving her hands in front of my face.
“Oh, sorry.”
“You feeling all right? You’re all flush and panting.” She places the back of her wrinkled hand on my forehead.
“I’m fine. Just getting tired already,” I reply, taking a step back and busying my hands with the remaining paperwork. “His name is Dean McIntire, and he should be there.”
“I better get going so I make it before they close.” She quickly gathers up her jacket and the paperwork and heads towards the back door. “Oh, and Payton?” I stop in my tracks as she glances over her boney shoulder. “The occasional orgasm might help alleviate that blush.”
Before I can even react, she’s out the door, whistling a tune that sounds like Justin Timberlake.
***
My cell phone rings as I’m locking the back door. With the deposit bag tucked beneath my arm, I dig into my purse for the phone. Once I grab it, I start to walk towards my car, which is parked in a small lot used by a few businesses on my block. The name on the screen causes me to stop in my tracks.
Dean.
Part of me wants to ignore the call, knowing that I’m not strong enough to say no if he were calling for personal reasons. I should have said no the first time we met up, and definitely shouldn’t have agreed to the three meetings that followed over the course of two months. We both realized that a relationship wasn’t in our best interest, and even though the chemistry is plausible and visible, it just isn’t meant to be.
“Hello?” I ask, worried he’ll hear the nervousness in that one word.
“Hi, Payton. It’s Dean. Do you have a minute?” he asks. Something in his own voice catches my attention. Apprehension.
Slipping into my car and dropping my bags on the passenger seat, I work the key into the ignition and start up the car. “Yeah, I’m just leaving the shop. What’s up?”
“Is this a joke?” he asks, completely catching me off guard.
“A joke? What are you talking about?” I ask, cranking the heater up to warm my vehicle.
“There are some…discrepancies in your statements that you dropped off this evening. I was glancing over it before I headed home so that I was prepared to get it all filed tomorrow morning, but some of the numbers are definitely…off.”
“Off? What does that mean?”
“Well, if I were to submit it the way it is, you’d probably be audited for tax fraud.”
My heart jumps and hammers in my chest. “What?” I whisper.
“Yeah, I’ll be honest, it looks like someone added a bunch of zeros to some of the income and expense lines. None of the totals add up.”
“That can’t be right. They were fine when I printed them off this afternoon.” My brain is working overtime to try to figure out exactly what I did wrong. Could I have accidentally hit extra numbers when I was inputting the data? No, there’s no way. QuickBooks figures all of those out for me.
“Well, I’m looking at a quarterly income of fourteen million dollars, and an expense of eight hundred thousand.”
Holy. Shit. “What? That’s not right!”
“I figured as much,” he says with a chuckle. “We need to figure this out sooner rather than later, Payton.”
“I’ve got my laptop with me that has my accounting software on it. Are you at the office?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here.”
“I’m on my way.” I don’t say anymore before signing off.
Sitting in the parking lot, I’m stunned by the crazy phone call. I haven’t heard from Dean in weeks, but my body instantly reacts to his voice the way it did all those months ago last fall. How in the world did my numbers come out so high? Fourteen million in income? I freaking wish! Unless those flowers are tipped in real gold, that would be a hell of a lot of blooms leaving my store in the fourth quarter. Yes, we had a great three months with Thanksgiving and Christmas, but not anywhere near a million dollars, let alone fourteen.
“What in the hell is going on?” I ask, throwing my car in reverse and carefully pulling out of my parking space. Mine’s the only car left in the lot at six-thirty at night.
I drive in silence towards Corbin and Denton. Their office is located at the far north side of Jupiter Bay in a newer complex that houses a dental and a physician’s office. Considering that it’s after five, the lights in the offices are off.
The front door is unlocked as I make my way towards the stairs. The accounting office is located on the second floor of the building, along with one for a small attorney’s practice. I find myself practically sprinting up the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reach the top. The door directly to my right catches my attention. It’s the only one with light filtering through the glass.
Eager to figure out what’s going on, I try the door. It’s unlocked. I’m greeted by the sight of Dean McIntire, casually leaning against the tall receptionist counter. His light brown hair is slightly askew, as if he’s recently ran his hands through it. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark wired glasses, but I can feel them on me nonetheless. My body temperature rises about ten degrees in the span of three seconds. It’s crazy, the way my body reacts to his presence. It was like that the first time he walked into the office and introduced himself as my new accountant.
“Hi,” I croak through a dry throat.
He doesn’t say a word, but I feel his eyes devour me from head to toe, leaving no part of me untouched by his gaze. I’m sure he can see my heart leaping in my chest and the way my body involuntarily sways in his direction. It’s a natural reaction, as normal as breathing.
“Hi.” Dean pushes off the desk where he’s perched and stalks towards me. Yes, stalks. That’s the only way to describe his movement. It’s fluid and dangerous and makes my panties wetter with each step he takes towards me.
Goose bumps rise on my heated flesh as he stands directly before me, close enough that I could wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss. If I wanted to, that is. Which I don’t. (This is where my pants would catch fire.) Dean leans forward, his arm skimming across my upper arm. Even through my coat, I can feel the heat of his flesh. I’m just about to ask what he’s doing when he flips the lock on the door. The sound of it engaging echoes throughout the empty office. It reminds me of the slamming of prison doors, except being locked in a room with Dean McIntire is nothing like prison. It’s more like a fantasy.
“You okay?” he whispers, his warm breath caressing my cheek.
“Yes.” My voice is hoarse and doesn’t even sound like my own.
“Are you sure? I’m not sure you’re breathing right now.” He raises that uber sexy eyebrow and gives me a half smirk. His eyes, hidden behind glasses, are smoldering and his lips plump, perfect for kissing. I’ve thought of that look several times over the last few months, especially when I was alone in my bed.
“Fine.” I croak. Seriously, whose voice is that?
“Good,” he says with the slightest rise of the corner of his lip. “Let’s go to my office and figure this out.”
He steps aside, waiting for me to take the lead. I know where his office is located; I’ve been there a few times since he took over my account last spring. What I wasn’t expecting was the warm hand on my lower back as we walk down the hallway. Since it’s a smaller office with only four accountants, we find ourselves at his open office door before I’m ready. Yet, I’m pleasantly surprised when he doesn’t remove his hand from the small of my back. Wait. No, I want him to remove it. Don’t I?
Aww, hell. I’m so screw
ed. Figuratively speaking, that is. Because I’m definitely not being screwed right now, as much as I wouldn’t mind feeling the coarseness of his legs rubbing against my thighs.
Pay-ton. Get a grip, geez.
Dean leads me towards a small table and chairs in the corner of his office. I notice the envelope and subsequent paperwork sitting neatly in the middle of the round table. He pulls out a chair, still keeping his hand on my lower back. Shudders of pleasure ripple through my taut body. The sudden desire to hop on the tabletop and spread my legs is overwhelming. Images of our tryst in my own business parade through my mind like some X-rated movie.
“You okay?” he asks, his eyes scanning me, clearly amused by my suddenly flushed face.
“Fine. What did you find?” I ask, clearing my throat as I slip out of my jacket and getting down to business.
“This,” he says, taking a seat beside me and reaching for the stack of papers. I notice right away that with him beside me, I catch faint whiffs of his cologne. It’s rich and intoxicating, and I involuntarily find myself leaning towards him. Again.
The papers he slides in front of me pull my attention. Instantly, I see what his phone call was referring to. It wasn’t me accidentally hitting extra buttons when inputting the information. This error is definitely human made, but more particularly, a certain human. I can tell by the way the extra zeros added to a few lines are shaky and hurried. What the hell?
Grandma.
“What did she do?” I wonder aloud.
“You know who did this?” he asks.
Gazing up, I’m drawn to worry evident in his deep brown eyes; so dark, they’re muddied with concern and compassion. The glasses that I’ve only seen him wear when he’s working are perched high up on his nose. A strong jaw frames his tanned face, and his lips are parted, little puffs of breath seeping from his open mouth.
“Yeah, I know who did this. This trickery has my elderly grandma’s signature all over it.”
Dean leans back in his seat, taking in my statement. “Why would she do this? Doesn’t she understand how much trouble you could have gotten into if I hadn’t been paying attention to the numbers?”
“I’m sure she knows you’d be thorough in checking the paperwork. And I haven’t exactly figured out why she did this, but don’t worry, I will. Can we make the changes to this and clear up the mess?”
“Yeah, she actually wrote it in pencil so we could probably just erase it, but I’d prefer to reprint clean copies.”
Reaching into my bag, I pull out my laptop. I set it on the table and boot it up. While I’m waiting for it to start, Dean brings over a USB cord that connects to his printer. He watches as my home screen appears, displaying a picture of my five sisters and me at the beach this past summer.
“I was going to ask if they were your friends, but the resemblance is uncanny,” he says, a small smile plays on his lips.
“Yeah, five sisters.”
“No brothers?”
“Nope. I think Mom and Dad stopped trying after five and six were twin girls,” I reply with a chuckle. Pointing to the screen, I introduce him to my sisters. “Jaime, AJ, Meghan, Lexi, and Abby.”
“I’ve seen a few of them around town. I didn’t realize they were your sisters, though I probably should have noticed the resemblance.”
Absently, I touch the screen before clicking on the accounting program I use. It only takes a few moments before it’s up and I’m able to reprint my report. Dean grabs the papers from the printer and brings them over to me. I watch him work for a few moments, silently observing the way he pushes up his glasses and the way little wrinkles appear between his brows while he’s concentrating.
“I think we’re all set,” he says, dropping his pen on the tabletop.
“Excellent.” Quickly, I shut down my computer and pack it back in my bag.
My original Wednesday night plan was my favorite takeout of Chicago style hotdogs and curly fries, and maybe reruns on television. Now, my vivid imagination is conjuring up other things that I wouldn’t mind doing tonight. Namely Dean McIntire.
But that’s not going to happen. He’s the one who insisted we keep our relationship professional, and I wholly agree. I’m not looking for anything more than a few fun nights, and even though I’m not sure what he’s looking for, I’m sure it doesn’t match my thoughts.
“Thank you for stopping by and helping get this mess straightened out.”
“Oh, no problem. I’m glad it wasn’t something more serious than it was.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I’m not sure her motives for the added digits, so you’ll have to let me know if you find out.”
Throwing my computer bag over my shoulder, I reply, “You can bet your ass I’ll be asking her about it.”
My green eyes clash with his brown ones. An invisible electric current charges through the air. I can see his chest moving, drawing in deep breaths of air, while I’m wondering if I’m even breathing. He’s breathtaking in his crisp white dress shirt and dark blue tie. Black trousers fit to perfection around his trim waist and nice ass. I never really had a type, but if I did, he’d be it. A little bit nerdy mixed with a lot of masculine. He’s like gravity; my body is drawn to him.
He takes a step towards me, then another. Dean stands before me, close enough to touch. My mind is battling between what it should do and what it will do. I should thank him for his time and walk out the door. It’s what I’ve been saying I’ll do if I should ever hear from him again, but now confronted with the situation, I can’t seem to make myself say the words.
Instead, I let my bag slide down my arm and drop on the floor. I take a half step forward until I’m practically plastered to his front. My heart pounds in my chest as lust and desire take over all rational thought. Because no matter what I say or how hard I try to convince myself, I just want him.
And I’m going to have him again.
At least for tonight.
Chapter Six
Dean
The first thing I notice is her scent. Jasmine and roses. She’s floral sweet; my favorite scent as of the last several months. I can’t go anywhere and see flowers, let alone smell them, without thinking of Payton.
The next thing I notice is the way the swell of her breasts press against my chest as she moves in closer. Her bag is discarded on the floor, an inconvenience she’s quickly ignoring. If only our clothes could be disposed of just as quickly.
When I discovered the extra zeros on Payton’s documents, I quickly called home and told Mom that there was an issue. I know Bri is in good hands; probably already fed and heading towards the bath. My call to Mom was quick and the message was simple: I don’t know how long I’ll be.
No, this wasn’t exactly my intention when I called her, but I’m not about to pass up one second alone with Payton. My daughter’s taken care of and that’s all that matters. Taking advantage of this unexpected time Payton’s offering is a damn close second. Even if the night’s cut short so we can get back to our own lives.
Looking down into her cloudy emerald green eyes, a bolt of lust slams into my gut and spreads throughout my bloodstream. “We seem to keep finding ourselves in this same predicament.”
“Which one would that be?” she asks coyly, but she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“I can’t seem to stay away from you.” My voice is deep and husky and laced with desire.
“I can’t stay away from you either.” Her confession is like a beautiful song, sweet and poignant.
When I lean forward, lining up our lips perfectly, I hesitate for a second, giving her a chance to back out. Her eyes are burning into mine, and I know without a doubt that she’ll never walk away. She can’t. Just like me. There’s something incredibly strong that pulls us towards each other. I’m not about to question it, not with her body pressed against mine.
Slowly, I lower my lips to hers, savoring the first taste of her lips in so many long weeks. She’s like a balm, an elixir to my soul, and I have no c
lue why or how that happened. She’s more than a booty call or a one-night stand. Even that first night when I snuck out in the early hours of the morning to go get my daughter, I knew she was more.
My lips move on their own, coaxing her mouth open so I can get my first real hit of Payton. When my tongue slides into her mouth and touches hers, blood floods into my cock, which is pulsing and throbbing painfully in my pressed Dockers. My dick reacts this way every damn time she’s around, let alone when I get to touch and taste her.
Her hands slide up my back, gripping at my dress shirt, pulling it from my pants. Without even realizing it, we’re moving until her ass is pressed firmly against my desk. She lifts up and perches atop the hard wood (my desk, not what’s happening in my pants). Her long legs open and wrap around my waist. Despite both of us still wearing pants, there’s no place I’d rather be.
Without breaking the kiss, my right hand reaches down and grabs her leg, lifting it up so that I can get closer. Closer to touching her. Closer to being inside her. Closer to making her come on my dick. My left hand slides up the back of her shirt. Her skin is so soft, so alluring, and so fucking smooth.
One-handedly, I unclasp her bra like a damned professional. Even I’m impressed with my skills right now, especially in light of the fact that she’s got me a fraction of an inch away from being completely out of control.
As much as it pains me, I pull away from her lips. Something else calls to me. Payton keeps her leg high on my hip and her eyes locked on mine as I slide both hands from her waistband, pushing her sweater up as I go. Her bra is askew and hanging, barely covering up her ample breasts. My mouth waters for one little taste.
I quickly shove her sweater over her head and watch the bra straps fall down her arms. Her nipples are hard little buds and my brain practically short circuits. Keeping my eyes on hers, I lower my head and stick out my tongue. Her moans of pleasure fill my entire being as I swipe my tongue gently across one, then the second tight little bud. My second pass is more aggressive, however. Her hands thread in my hair as I latch on to one perfect nipple, licking, sucking, and teasing. Payton shifts forward further on my desk, grinding against my erection.