by Ana Gabriel
Chapter Two
I swallow, hard. My palms are sweating and my cheeks are burning. I am so not sleeping again tonight. Or maybe ever again. And, I realize, I’m still standing right outside the door. The woman in Cole’s room lets out a gasp that sends me running straight back down the hallway to my own room. I close the door, but it still feels like I can hear her. Worse, I can see her in glorious Technicolor in my head. All of her that wasn’t covered by Cole’s tongue anyway.
I drop onto the bed, heat pulsing up my neck. God, what if he calls me again? What if he doesn’t? I mean, who wants an assistant who messes up her first task and yells ‘Holy shit’ when they’re asked to do something?
Maybe it’s some kind of test. But if it is, I’m pretty sure I failed. So what am I going to do now? I swore I’d never go back to Illinois unless I could hold my head up and tell Mom and Dad and everyone else there exactly how well I was doing in L.A. and just how wrong they were that I’d struggle to land roles. I can hear Dad’s voice in my head telling me I’d end up waiting tables when I could have been learning the ropes and taking over the family business.
The thing is, I already knew the ropes. I’d spent all my high school summers working there. The business never grew any bigger, it just was. And I didn’t want to just be. I wanted to be somebody.
I check my phone. 4:17am. I pull myself back into bed, but I can’t stop staring at the door and every time I try to close my eyes, all I see are those green eyes staring back at me. I’ve seen Cole in films—everyone has—but . . . not like that. Not with a sheen of sweat over his abs and the muscles in his shoulders bunched up tight as he held himself over that girl. It sends a hot rush of shame through me that I can’t stop thinking about it. That girl was a sweaty mess under his hands. And his tongue, oh, damn, I have to stop thinking about him going down on her. It’s setting every nerve ending in my body on edge.
When I wake up from a fitful sleep to a ravaged bed and every muscle in my body aching from being tense all night, I hear faint bangs coming from downstairs. I rush to get ready. If I’m going to get fired, might as well get it over with. I can worry about what comes next after it’s done.
Cole’s bedroom door is closed, so I sneak down the stairs, feeling like an intruder. The noises coming from the kitchen probably aren’t being made by him anyway, I tell myself. But as I round the corner and peep into the room, it’s him. His back is to me as he pulls something from the huge fridge. Fully clothed in dark jeans and a black T-shirt, but it’s definitely him.
Any second now, he’s going to turn around and see me, and all I can think about is those same fingers that are wrapped around the fridge handle right now shining as they plunged in and out of that girl.
“Are you going to come in, or would you prefer to just stand there?”
I startle so hard I’m glad he’s facing the other way and can’t see me do it. His voice, smooth and deep, reverberates down my spine, and I hear his voice in my head, thick with lust, calling my name. I shake my head.
“Uh, yes. I mean, yes, I’m going to come in.”
He turns around with a carton of orange juice in his hand that I know for a fact cost more than I’d spend on a whole meal. “Are you asking me, or telling me?”
Okay, so the way I said it, it sounded like a question. But I barely even register the fact, because he’s looking at me with a totally innocent expression on his face, like last night never happened, although I’m sure from the dark circles under my eyes and the steady hum in my stomach that it did.
His mouth quirks up on one side. “Okay, well, good luck with whatever it is you’re doing there. Maybe when you’re finished with that you could look over the planner and get up to speed on where Val left off and what needs doing.” He closes the fridge and gets a glass from a dark wood cupboard. Like he’s just going to casually pour a drink and walk off.
So . . . he’s not going to fire me? He’s just going to act like he didn’t call me into his room barely four hours ago so I could see him not only totally naked, but doing those things to some girl? I’m tired and I’m tense and if I could quit right now, I would. But yesterday-Rose gave up her apartment after only a few hours in this job. I curse yesterday-Rose. But it’s not going to make any difference to the fact that I don’t have any money to rent a new place, I still owe money on the old place, and even if I did want to go back to Illinois, I probably couldn’t afford the coach fare. No, I have to make this work. And the best way to do that is to just lay it on the line, agree some ground rules. I can’t let him think that what he did last night was okay.
He picks up his drink and makes as if to walk past me, but I step in front of him. “I—Mr. Dean, I—When Val interviewed me, she didn’t tell me part of the job was, well, that.”
He pauses mid-stride, and I shuffle back against the doorframe because he’s filling practically the whole space. He’s insanely good looking close up. “That?” He quirks an eyebrow and I have to remind myself not to get distracted by any unwelcome pictures that pop into my head—like the muscle making a ridge in front of his hip bone. And everything else below it. I have to stand firm.
I square my shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re used to, but last night was inappropriate and—”
“Sex is inappropriate?” He’s trying not to smile, and I swallow my embarrassment long enough to get annoyed.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
He doesn’t move, but somehow it feels like he’s leaning closer. Maybe it’s the way his eyes are locked on mine, amused, but with a challenge in them. “I do,” he says, “but I can’t help finding it kind of funny that you can’t even say it.”
I pull myself up straight. “I shouldn’t have to. You’re my employer, and if I’m going to continue working for you, I don’t ever want to see you naked again.”
“Is that a fact?” There’s an outright laugh in his words, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. But there’s a limit to what I’m prepared to do, and last night overshot it by a clear mile. I didn’t say no to the casting couch this many times just to get myself involved in Cole Dean’s dirty sex life as some kind of lackey.
“Yes, that’s a fact,” I say, as coldly as I can. “Are those terms clear and acceptable to you?”
He ducks his head like a chastened schoolboy, then looks up at me with those devil’s eyes. “Perfectly.”
~
Later that morning, when I don’t feel like I’m going to die of outright shame or the worse mortification of having to bring up last night’s incident over breakfast, I try to remember from Val’s super hasty but not entirely thorough orientation if there’s some kind of office or study where I might find a planner so I can familiarize myself with whatever schedule I’m supposed to be organizing for Cole Dean.
There’s nothing upstairs that fits the description, so I skirt around the bright blue water of the pool to the other side of house and open a door to a whole wing I’m sure Val didn’t so much as mention. I step out of the heat into air-conditioned cool, pulling the door closed after me and blinking away the brightness from outside. Immediately, I duck to the right, pulling myself into a little space beside another door, because in front of me is Cole Dean’s gym.
His glass-fronted, fully mirrored, home gym, with Cole Dean in it, working out. I look to the door I came in through, but I hear him move around in there, and then I catch sight of him in one of the mirrored walls. If I move now, he’s going to see me. I’m squashed into a little alcove peering out, and after what I said this morning, I cannot let him catch me here.
I push back into the shadows. It’s bright enough in the gym that he won’t be able to see me. I’ll just slip away when I get the chance.
In the mirror, Cole has his back to me. There’s a thin dark trail of sweat down the middle of his T-shirt. The material clings to his tanned skin and my stomach tightens. I should go. But I can’t tear my eyes away. His body looks so hard, muscles tensing as he lifts weights. My own body heats up w
atching the slow glide of his movements and the way his dark hair falls forward and curls damply at the back of his neck.
A slow pulse of heat slides down my stomach as he places the weights on a rack. I push back into the corner as he turns to face me, even though I’m certain he can’t see me with the lights on in the gym. Slowly, he pulls his T-shirt up over his head, revealing a tight set of abs, then the muscles of his chest as he tugs the material over his head and discards the shirt on the floor.
What is he doing? I glance around and see a partially open door at the back of the room. The floor is tiled and there’s a stack of towels on a wall rack. He’s going to take a shower. Which means . . .
He kicks his sneakers off and starts pushing his sweats down, and if I’d ever wondered before if Cole Dean wears boxers or briefs, I know now it’s neither right at this moment. He stands, totally naked, full frontal and now I know why he needed those XL condoms. He runs his hands through his hair, and to my utter embarrassment, I know how wet I am right now.
Cole looks down at himself and when he looks back up, it’s with a wolf’s grin on his face and he’s looking straight at me. I suck in a breath. He can’t see me. He can’t see me.
He winks. “I’m going to hit the shower now if you’d care to join me, Rose,” he calls out. “I’m sure I can find something for you to assist me with in there.”
I bolt for the outside door, letting it slam into the wall as I half-run back around the pool and into the house. What is wrong with me? What’s wrong with him? He must have known I was there the whole damn time, and he just let me stand there ogling him like some kind of oversexed teenager. I cover my burning face with my hands and run straight into a side table, knocking a bunch of keys onto the floor. I don’t even stop to pick them up or register the shock of pain that spreads out over my hip bone, I just hurry on straight through the living room and down a hallway that leads who knows where and . . . great, there’s the office I was looking for.
I run into a small room with a desk and a phone in it and close the door. My heart is pounding as I pace the tiny space between the desk and the window. I am so screwed. So very, undeniably screwed. And Cole Dean is so provocative and so very, undeniably hot.
The phone in my pocket buzzes and I let out a little shriek. But when I pull it out of my dress, fumble, and almost drop it, I see that it’s just Kate. Kate, my good friend, who will know exactly what to do. Like maybe calling the fire service and having them remove the wall behind me so I can get away without ever having to speak to or look at Cole Dean again.
“Kate!” I don’t stop pacing, holding the phone tight to my ear as I answer it.
“Rose? Hey, what’s up? You sound out of breath. Boss working you hard?”
I almost drop the phone again. “Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I don’t know.”
Her laugh comes down the line. “I hope you’re using all of that intellect to impress on your second day.”
I groan. It really is only my second day, and I’ve already seen Cole Dean’s entirely naked body twice.
“What’s the matter, Rose? Is your boss a real hard-ass? Who are you even working for anyway? Can you talk now?”
I glance at the door. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’m hiding in Cole Dean’s house because he just caught me spying on him. And how does he handle one of his employees doing that? He strips.
I stop pacing and sink into the chair behind the desk. There’s a laptop sitting squarely in the middle of the polished wood and a bursting leather planner fastened with a catch.
“It’s Cole Dean,” I say.
“What?” I can practically see Kate’s eyes getting round. “The Cole Dean? As in hot, sexy, totally ripped Cole Dean? Oh my god, how lucky are you?”
I flip the catch on the planner and it spills open, spewing out business cards and dry cleaning receipts and who knows what else. “Yes,” I say. “I mean no, he’s my boss now.”
Kate laughs. “Yeah, he is. What’s he had you doing so far?”
My cheeks burn all over again at the thought of digging through the vanity for those XL condoms. I can’t admit that I gave up my apartment for this. I catch sight of a ticket in front of me. “Oh, you know, picking up dry cleaning. That sort of thing.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound kind of weird.”
“I’m fine,” I say, firmly. “Just settling in to a new job. It’s just . . .” I bite the side of my nail and almost tell her. “It’s nothing. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you once I’ve found my feet and we’ll go out, okay?”
I end the call and page through the planner. It turns out I have some parcels to pick up at the post office, so I spend the rest of the day either avoiding Cole by hiding in the office, or running the errands that Val already pencilled in and adding my own notes about when I’ll have to pick things up. I manage to find the keys to the car Val showed me without having to ask, and by the time I get back to the house, the sun is setting, and none of the house lights are on. There’s a rush of relief with a twist of disappointment as I realize Cole’s not in.
I sit on my bed, towelling off my wet hair after a shower and thinking to myself that I’ll start again tomorrow. I’ll go out and get those bagels Val told me about. I’ll be professional and polite and totally business-like and it will be like today and yesterday never happened.
But when I climb into bed in a silky slip, I can’t get Cole out of my head. My skin is hot and no matter what else I try to think about, there’s heat between my legs that won’t go away. The way he looked at me in his bedroom was like he wanted to devour something. Every time he’s looked at me since, it’s been like it’s stripped the clothes right off me. And I know it’s not real, just an unwelcome fantasy, but I slide my hand down my body and underneath the lace edge of my panties and already my breathing is unsteady.
The second my finger runs lightly over my clit a starburst of longing explodes over my body. My muscles tense and tense more as I think about Cole’s fingers in that girl, about his tongue running up between her spread legs. I can’t stop myself gasping as my own fingers move in circles, wet with how much I wish I could see those green eyes looking up at me right now, how much I wish his hot tongue was between my legs right now.
I clench the bed sheets in my fist and flip over onto my stomach. My nipples graze the sheets, sending lines of fire down to where I slip two fingers inside myself. Heat builds in great pulses and as it becomes almost unbearable, I push my face into the pillow and moan as my body arches and tenses tighter and tighter until it implodes in wave after wave of hot pleasure.
Chapter Three
I wake up tense and hot, not quite sure if I even fell asleep at all. Cole’s wolfish grin and sweat-slicked body pop into my head and the familiar ache in my groin is back. Dread washes over me. Not again . . .
I almost reach my hand down for sweet relief before I whip the covers off instead.
This madness has to end. I said it myself: he’s my employer.
After a cold shower, I drive down to the market Val talked about and pick up the bagels Cole likes. When I get back and deposit the shopping bags on the kitchen counter, I hear a shower turn on upstairs.
Cole’s up.
And naked.
“I’m going to hit the shower now if you’d care to join me, Rose. I’m sure I can find something for you to assist me with in there.”
A hot line rushes through me, and my breathing quickens. Maybe I should . . . I shake my head hard to get rid of the filthy thought. I need to keep busy before my hormones march me upstairs of their own volition.
Breakfast. Cooking always relieves my stress.
Ten minutes later, I’ve got three frying pans on the go and a totally Cole-free mind. I can do this, I think. I can stay away from my boss.
“What’s all this?”
I jump at the sound of Cole’s voice. He stands in the doorway, dressed in a white T-shirt that clings to the V-
shape of his body, from his broad chest and shoulders down to his trim hips. His wet hair curls around his ears, slick and shiny in the morning light. As if noticing my stare, he casually runs a hand through his hair, the muscles in his thick arms shifting and—Oh God.
I look away quickly, focusing on the sizzling frying pans.
“I’m making breakfast,” I say, and damnit, my voice cracks. What is happening to me?
“I see that.” His footsteps pad quietly behind me until his shadow looms across the skillet. My breath quickens, and I know that if I were to turn around now, we’d be face to face. Cole reaches over me and grabs a strawberry from the dish of fresh fruit I cut up. His arm brushes mine and a zing of energy goes through me. He pops the strawberry into his mouth, his tongue rolling sensually over the fruit, and purrs “mmm”. Desire, low and dizzying, warms my stomach. I’ve seen that tongue in action and I know exactly what else he can do with it.
A sweat breaks out on my forehead. Cole seems to notice and chuckles darkly before walking away. I exhale a long held breath.
“I didn’t know you were a cook,” he says, and in the periphery, I see him leaning against the counter. I don’t trust myself to look at him head on anymore.
“I’m not.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“I mean, I don’t cook like this normally. Most days I have yogurt for breakfast.”
“So what’s the occasion?” he asks.
To keep myself from touching myself to thoughts of you naked.
I clear my throat and grab a plate from the cupboard to stack the crepes. “Just . . . felt like it. Your bagels are there on the counter but there’s plenty of this if you want some.”
“Oh I definitely want some,” he says gruffly.
The plate skitters out of my hand and smashes on the floor. I meet Cole’s eyes and expect anger, but he chuckles as he bends to pick up the shattered china.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, falling to my knees to help him. “I can pay for that.”