by Rose Lange
He pushed the envelope and his guilty thoughts aside as he entered her office. Shutting the door behind him, he plucked the globe off her desk and took a seat, lounging. “I only came to see how my new partner was doing.”
“I’m fine, and I can tell you right now, I don’t need a damned partner.” Her eyes zeroed in on the globe, narrowing. “Hand it over, please.”
He held it up. “Oh, you mean this?”
Without waiting, she walked over and tried to grab it from him. He held it out of reach, which forced her to lean over, until her chest lined up with his face. He raised one brow as his eyes drifted toward the hint of cleavage saying hello beneath her shirt.
Seeing the direction of his gaze, she cleared her throat and straightened. She held out her hand but said nothing. Deciding she’d been through enough this morning, he handed it to her. Her face filled with color as she set the globe back on her desk.
“And as for this partner business,” Emma said, frowning, “my boss needs her head examined.”
He leaned back. “Our boss,” he amended, making himself at home.
He watched Emma’s pretty fair skin flush a deeper hue of rouge. A fierce turn-on, because he’d been the reason for it. There was something, sexy, wholesome, and sweet about her, always had been, but behind that innocent façade, a wildcat hid, coming out in the bedroom. Not to mention adventurous, fierce, and dominating. Was she still the same way?
Damn it, Patrick, knock it off.
“Well,” he said, “you’re stuck with me. Hate to break it to you.”
He couldn’t help but wonder when either one would address the elephant in the room but reminded himself there would be plenty of time for that. And plenty time for other things.
He took his head out of the skies and cleared his throat. “So, what’s the scoop on this project? Our boss briefed me a little bit before the meeting,” he murmured.
A seemingly annoyed scoff passed her lips. “Yeah, I’ll just bet she did.”
He could’ve sworn he heard a hint of jealousy in her tone, and the thought alone nearly made him laugh out loud. It was kind of cute, actually.
He deliberately lowered his voice to a husky murmur. “Yes, and she did a very thorough job.”
Emma straightened her shoulders and gave him an evil glare. She opened her folder and began giving him an overview of the project. A healthcare company in Minnesota hired them to do a complete rebranding.
“Will there be anything else, Patrick?”
He shook his head. “No, but if I have any more questions, I’ll know where to find you.”
And with this, he strolled out of her office with a smile on his face, because, by God, she’d actually kept the snow globe.
Chapter 3
Emma breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled into her parking space that evening after work. She grabbed dinner and her briefcase, happy to put this day behind her.
Jabbing her key into the lock, the quiet apartment soothed her, as she stepped inside. The small light above the counter cast a glow over the area. She quickly lit the bamboo jasmine candle next to the stove, and already the sweet scent offered comfort. Setting her things down, she balanced one hand on the edge of the counter as she whipped her heels off.
After a day like today, she already wished it were Friday. That she could somehow fast-forward to make the week fly, if only to avoid seeing Patrick. Working on this project with him would be a disaster in the making.
First of all, she didn’t trust him. Worst of all, and let’s be honest here, she definitely did not trust herself. Patrick was like a potato chip. Once you’d had a taste, you wanted more. Eating one would only wet her appetite, and worse, she’d enjoy it. Mixing business with pleasure was a huge mistake, but she had a feeling the pleasure would be very worthwhile.
Just then, and in the nick of time, Sarah walked in the front door, smiling like the cat who swallowed the canary.
“So, give me the details,” she said. “You’ve been so evasive all day, dear friend. And I’m dying to know.” Sarah set her briefcase down and took an appreciate sniff of the air. “Chinese?”
“Your favorite and mine.”
Sarah followed suit. Chucking her heels under the table, she tucked her legs under her butt and dove in.
“Tell me,” Sarah demanded. Amusement laced her voice.
“Tell you what?”
Her friend rolled her eyes. “Tell me what happened between you and Patrick. He’s been in your office a couple times today, and he shut the door on both occasions. Has he kissed you?”
Emma inwardly lurched at her words, although secretly she’d been fantasizing about his lips on hers for a better part of the day, and just why, she had no clue, all things considered.
“No, he didn’t.” The cool half-lie slipped out effortlessly.
Sarah’s inquisitive brown gaze studied her, and she put her chopsticks down. “But you wish he had. You can’t fool me, Emma. I’ve known you far too long.”
Emma took another bite of her kung pao chicken. “Can we please talk about something else?”
“Yeah. How on earth did you get so lucky as to be partnered up with him? Oh my, don’t know that I’d be able to get any work done.” Sarah fanned herself.
Emma finished chewing and swallowed. “I would hardly call it luck. Can we talk about something other than Patrick, please?”
Sarah smiled that sly smile again, but thankfully she started talking about plans for the coming workweek.
~ ~ ~
Emma finished writing a few follow-up emails later that morning when Patrick popped his head in, a smile decorating his handsome face.
“Hey there, take a break. Can I interest you in some coffee?”
She eyed her stale, forgotten coffee from this morning. Although leaving with him might prove nothing more than a bad idea, some fresh brew sounded too good to pass up. “Okay, let’s go.”
She made her way to the snack room, and he gently wrapped one arm around her waist and steered her the other way.
“Patrick, where are we going?”
“Down the street. It’s a beautiful morning for a stroll.”
As they made their way outside, his arm still around her waist, a few curious passersby tossed a glance in their way. Self-consciously, she scooted away from under his toasty and tempting grasp.
When they entered the elevator, he shot her an inquisitive glance, and she read his mind loud and clear. “I just . . . wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about us.”
“And what idea is that?”
She laughed, casting him a sideways glance. “Come on, Patrick. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She didn’t meet his gaze, but his throaty, amused chuckle reverberated against her. The confined space of the elevator blended with his men’s cologne and made her senses spin. She tried to pretend he had no effect on her. That his strong, commanding presence did absolutely nothing to her womanly parts, and thinking if she weren’t at work, she’d allow him to press her up against the wall of the elevator and . . .
The ding of the elevator announced their arrival and they spilled into the lobby, sending the naughty daydream scattering.
They walked half a block until they arrived at the Coffee Grind, tucked away within the line of buildings in downtown Milwaukee. The smell of fresh-ground coffee beans, baked goods, and general sounds greeted them as college kids lined up from either side, filling every corner of the shop with their laptops, book bags, and books.
Oh, how she missed those days.
This place had the best coffee and the yummiest homemade, melt-in-your-mouth cinnamon buns. Murder on her thighs, but an all-too-sinful treat for her mouth.
Emma ordered her usual, a tall coffee with hazelnut flavoring, but
she passed on the baked goods.
While Patrick placed his order, she procured them a table then took an appreciative few sips of her coffee. Closing her eyes to savor the flavor, she felt the warmth seep through her and down into her tummy.
Moments later, Patrick joined her. He carried coffee in one hand, and in his other, a sticky cinnamon bun, cut straight in half, poised on a square burnt-orange dish. Her taste buds already salivated at the thought of taking a bite.
He shrugged. “I thought you might be interested in splitting this. I haven’t had one in years.”
Taking a seat, he set the plate down in the middle, and she didn’t hesitate grabbing a napkin and picking up one half of the sinful treat. With no ladylike way to eat it, she dove in, closing her eyes as the sweetness hit her tongue and a moan escaped her lips. It had been too long since she’d indulged in one these babies. Swallowing her first bite, she opened her eyes to take another when she paused, meeting his direct gaze, trained on her, and jaw hanging slightly open. His food was poised for his mouth, but stopped midway.
Embarrassed, she set the bun down and reached for her coffee. She took a good swallow. “I’m sorry, but it’s just been too long since I’ve indulged in one of those.”
Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and finally took a bite. “Don’t worry about it.”
“So,” she said, “what have you been up to these last few years?”
“Working, a little traveling. I moved back here from Rhode Island.” His body language and stance grew guarded and he didn’t seem to want to elaborate further. “How about you, Emma? What have you been up to?”
She shrugged. “Same. Working, living, no traveling unfortunately.”
“Seeing anyone?”
Emma lifted her gaze to his, the question seemingly coming out of thin air. “No. Not seeing anyone, you?”
“No.” And again, that same heartbreaking look clouded his eyes, as if he were holding a secret he didn’t wish to divulge.
She finished her half of the pastry and took several more sips of coffee. Whatever had happened, it must’ve been too painful for him to discuss.
~ ~ ~
Why in hell did I ask if Emma was seeing anyone?
Patrick went over that question over and over again in his mind as he drove home that night. He also could not help but replay the scene of her enjoying that sticky bun, moaning as she bit into and devoured the tasty treat. He’d stared, transfixed by the sexy sight, and was about the take a bite of his half when her soft moan drew his attention.
She’d worn her hair up and away from her face, her wispy golden tendrils caressing the side of her face. The V-neck buttoned navy shirt showcased delicate cleavage, and the graceful, creamy expanse of her neck. Good Lord. The woman had absolutely no idea that the innocent act of eating and enjoying that sticky bun had him drooling like some damned lustful teenaged fool.
Then he recalled when she’d tried to delve, very innocently, into his past, but he didn’t wish to talk about Laura, or their unborn baby. A part of his past he preferred to keep buried and locked away within his heart.
That after two years, and her and their baby’s death, he could not stand to live in the house they shared anymore. Waking up without her and facing an empty nursery, already filled with baby clothes and furniture had nearly destroyed him. Decorated in a Winnie the Pooh theme, a rocking chair sat neglected in the corner, waiting, but never having the opportunity to rock a baby to sleep. Having given it the old-school try, he’d remained there, carrying on with his life as best he could.
A year after the cremation and funeral, he’d drowned himself in meaningless sex, and drank to excess. It’d gotten so bad he’d wake up in a drunken stupor, in a strange woman’s bed, not even remembering her name. Or how he’d even gotten there, which was not like him. Normally, he liked to get to know a woman first, but for several months, he’d been out of control. At the urging of his brother Mike, he’d decided to start over.
So he began to get his life back together, and he eventually found a job here in his hometown. He needed a fresh start, to leave those painful memories behind.
Only now, Emma McCallen was here, awakening long-buried feelings. She had the potential to become dangerous yet he couldn’t keep away from her. Drawn to her beauty, he felt the air of light surrounding her. Just . . . her, and he couldn’t put it into words.
Emma drew him in, and he found himself unable to resist. He knew he should, but damn it, the beauty had dropped back into his life. The one he’d shared a passionate, memorable seven-day, and night, affair with on the sandy beaches of Greece. And now that they worked together, their shared past only complicated things further.
He smiled, but what a hell of a complication.
~ ~ ~
An uneventful and amiable two days passed, and a comfortable working relationship ensued with Patrick, as he’d been strictly professional while they worked, putting their ideas together on this project.
Never once had he laid a hand on her, and for the most part, other than little glances here and there, he had been the perfect gentleman and very professional.
Amongst papers, open folders, notes, and various supplies littering the table, she blindly reached for the bottle of Wite-Out. Opening it, she frowned at the dried-out contents, and mentally cursed herself for not coming with a backup. Even if it were an easy fix, she hated to break her stride. “I’ll be right back. Continue without me.”
He gave a curt nod.
Tucked away and unassuming, the supply room provided a nice hideout in case she ever needed five minutes to take a breather. Minutes later, she entered the tiny room then turned on the light and shut the door.
She grabbed the needed supplies, plus several others, just in case, and heard the door quietly shut.
“Hello, stranger,” came a husky murmur from behind her.
Emma rolled her eyes heavenward, not bothering to turn around. The smooth, sexy timbre of Patrick’s voice turned her on more than she cared to admit. “What do you want, Patrick?”
He locked the door behind him, with a decisive click. Her breath left the building when he turned off the light. The space fell into pitch-blackness. She couldn’t even see the shelf directly in front her nose. Taking a deep, measured breath, Emma realized she needed to keep her self-control tightly coiled before she did something stupid.
Her pulse throbbed against her throat when Patrick’s hands grasped her hips and settled her bottom against his front. Warm, delicious flutters spread like tentacles in her belly. She didn’t dare speak. Goodness, he made her feel things she had no right to feel, especially here at work of all places.
Her eyelids drifted shut and her mouth parted while he moved his hands around her waist and pressed her tightly into him. The forgotten supplies fell from her hands and made a light thud on the carpet. She licked her lips. Tilting her head back, she relaxed against him and he took advantage, pressing his lips to her neck. He nipped until tiny goosebumps decorated her arms. Darkness enveloped her in its sinful, wicked cloak as his mouth took complete and total charge.
Finally, she found her voice. “Patrick, what are you doing?”
Throaty laughter invaded her eardrum. “I think you know, sweets.”
“Someone m-might c-catch us.” She hated the shakiness in her voice as she stumbled over her words.
Ignoring her protests, he took the lobe between his teeth and gave it a gentle bite then rained kisses just below, before traveling lower. As hard as she tried to stand still and keep her breathing calm, the way he kissed her . . . the way he gently nipped her neck . . . nearly made her drop to her knees. She bit her lip to keep herself from moaning out loud, or worse yet, turning around and begging him to take her right here in the supply closet.
“What happened to that girl on the beach, who didn�
�t care that we were making love outdoors? Who went commando seven out of seven of those days and nights?” His voiced lowered. “That girl who bit her lower lip when she came apart in my arms?”
The pitch-black room and confined space heightened her senses, sending them clear to the floor above. She bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a moan, but his hands. Oh those naughty hands, lowered, slightly lifting her skirt until his fingertips touched the tops of her garter and stockings, lazily caressing the exposed skin.
“Sexy Emma, what I wouldn’t give to see the sight of you wearing these.” He fingered the lacy edge. “Wearing only these.”
Then without hesitation, he pressed his mouth to her neck. A favored spot, it seemed, and time hadn’t changed that as he scattered hungry, open-mouthed kisses to the delicate skin. He feasted as though he’d been ravenous. She hadn’t been the object of a man’s desire in years and was willing to be this man’s last meal. Against her better judgment, she lifted her arm and thrust her hand in his hair, bringing him closer. Her chest thrust up and out, and he took ferocious advantage. Cupping one of her breasts, he squeezed. He kept his other arm around her, her bottom pressed into his very turned-on front. The articles of clothing did nothing to stop her body from reacting.
Damn, if this continued any longer, she would need to go home and take an icy shower. And as fantastic as this sinful escapade felt, she couldn’t do this here. Hell, let’s be realistic, she couldn’t do this anywhere with Patrick.
Clearing her throat louder than necessary, she quickly withdrew from his arms, fumbled toward the door, and reached for the light switch. With shaky fingers, she turned the lights back on, although that didn’t help her worth a damn either because the sight of him, looking too damned good, did bad things to her senses.