On the Naughty List

by Lori Foster

  Eric locked his jaw against the temptation to show her just how lost he already was. “The point,” he said in a near growl, “is that many of the men hitting on you are probably only after the damn company.”

  “I’m not an idiot. I know that already.”

  “They think if they … What do you mean, you know?”

  “That’s what I was talking about,” she said with a reasonableness Eric had a hard time grasping. “I’ve been in or around this business for ages—as I already said, since I was seventeen. Most of the men ignored me. I mean, I realize I’m kind of gangly and people saw me as a little too flighty. No,” she said when he started to argue with her, appalled by her skewed perceptions of herself. “I’m not fishing for more compliments. I’m a realist, Eric. I know who and what I am. But the point is that men who have always ignored me or only been distantly polite suddenly want to take me to the Bahamas for a private weekend winter getaway, or—”

  “What?”

  “—or they want to give me expensive gifts or—”

  “Who the hell asked you to the Bahamas?”

  “It doesn’t matter, it’s just—”

  “It most certainly does matter!” Eric felt tense from his toes to his ears. He was forcibly keeping away from her, refusing to involve her in an affair, and equally opposed to making her the object of speculation and office gossip. He’d be damned before he let some other bozo—especially one with dishonorable intentions—cozy up to her. “Who was it, Maggie?”

  She touched him again, this time on his chest. “Eric.” Like a sigh, she breathed his name, and once again her eyes were huge. “I appreciate your umbrage on my behalf, really I do. But I don’t need you to play my white knight.”

  His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Ridiculous for a thirty-two-year-old man to go mute just because of a simple touch. And on his chest, for God’s sake. Not anyplace important. Not where he’d really love for her to touch him.

  But he’d wanted her for five long years, and then been denied her just when he’d thought his waiting was about over. He mentally shook himself out of his stupor and framed her face in his hands. Her skin was so warm, so smooth, his heartbeat threatened to break his ribs. “If anyone—and I do mean anyone—insults you in any way, Maggie, I want you to promise to tell me.”

  Her eyes darkened, and she stared at his mouth. “Okay.”

  “Your father was one of my best friends.” Good, he thought, a tack that makes sense, a reason for my unreasonable reaction. “Drake would have expected me to help take care of you, to watch out for you.”

  Just like that, the heat left her eyes. She gave him a withering half smile, patted his left hand, and then pulled it away from her face. Stepping back, she put some space between them and propped her hip on the edge of his desk.

  She once again wore her damn professional mien that never failed to set his teeth on edge.

  “I appreciate the sentiment, Eric, but I’m a big girl. I know that even though you don’t want the company, others do and they’re not above trying to marry me for it. But I can take care of myself.”

  Goddamn it, he wanted to take care of her. But he couldn’t very well say so without running the risk of sounding like all the others. If only he hadn’t been so noble, if only he’d told her from the beginning how much he wanted her. But she had been so young.…

  Eric nodded his head, feeling incredibly grim. “Just keep it in mind.”

  Her smile was a bit distracted. “It’s almost time to call it a day, so I’d better get to the point of my visit, huh?”

  “All right.” Eric watched her as she stood and began edging toward the door.

  “The annual Christmas party. I heard from Margo that you don’t plan to attend?”

  Margo had a big mouth; he’d have to talk to her about that. “I haven’t decided yet,” he lied, because he had no intention of forcing himself into her company any more than he had to.

  “Margo said you turned her down.”

  Eric rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I didn’t…”

  “I understood that you’d turned everyone down. Margo, Janine, Sally…”

  “I know who I’ve spoken with, Maggie. You don’t need to remind me.” Hell, half the female employees had asked him to the party. He wondered how Maggie knew that, though.

  She stared him in the eye. “You, uh, aren’t dating anyone right now, are you?”

  Eric frowned at her, wondering what she was getting at. It wasn’t like her to get involved in his personal life. “No, I’m not dating anyone right now.” Despite the female employees’ efforts, there was no one he wanted except Maggie, so he’d been suffering a self-assigned celibacy that was about to make him crazed.

  “Excellent.” She lifted her chin with a facade of bravado and announced boldly, “Then you can go with me. I … I need you, Eric.”

  TWO

  Maggie watched as Eric gave her his most intimidating frown. Good Lord, the man was gorgeous. Her father had accused her of an infatuation, calling her obsession with his right-hand man puppy love. Granted, at seventeen, it could have been nothing else. But she was twenty-two now, and there was nothing immature or flighty about her feelings for Eric Bragg.

  She was getting downright desperate to get his attention, and her New Year’s resolution, made a bit early out of necessity, was to seduce him. It would be a Christmas present to herself. At least an office fling would give her something, if not what she really wanted. And perhaps, with any luck, once she’d made love to him he’d begin to see her as a woman, rather than the boss’s daughter.

  Eric looked dazed. His broad shoulders were tensed and his legs were braced apart as if he had to struggle for his balance. Hazel eyes narrowed, he rasped, “Come again?”

  Being cowardly, Maggie inched a tiny bit closer to the door and escape, should Eric’s response prove too humiliating to bear. Admittedly, she lacked experience. But she felt certain that he’d been giving her mixed signals. Sometimes he patted her head like she was still seventeen, and then every so often he’d throw her for a loop, like his comment on her legs, accompanied by a certain hot look in his eyes.…

  “I need you,” she blurted again. It was easier saying it the second time, but not much. “I want to attend the party. As the boss, I’m pretty much obligated to go. But so many of the male employees and associates have asked me, and I wasn’t sure how to refuse them without causing a personal rift—so I lied and said I already had a date. You.”

  “Me?”

  Nodding, she added, “It’s just for pretend. I mean, you won’t be expected to spend any money on me or dote on me or anything. But I might as well come clean and tell you that everyone also assumes you’re helping me organize the Christmas party.”

  “Maggie…”

  He sounded choked and she didn’t know if it was anger or not. If he was mad, she’d have to scrap the second step of this evening’s plan. That is, if her lack of courage didn’t cause her to scrap it anyway. She reached behind her and felt for the doorknob. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got everything under control, so you don’t have to really do much for the party. Except make others think you’re helping me.” Which she hoped would force them into some isolated time together. She bit her lip with the thought. “I’ll give you a…”—she had to clear her throat—“Christmas bonus for helping out.”

  “I don’t want a goddamned Christmas bonus from you,” he growled, and started toward her with a dark frown.

  Maggie felt her mouth drop open when he stopped a mere inch in front of her. Her entire body was zinging with awareness, the way it always did whenever Eric was close. His hazel eyes were intent and probing and they made her feel like he could see right into her soul.

  She’d often wondered if he looked at a woman like that while making love to her.

  She swallowed audibly with the visual images filling her brain.

  “You’re mad?” She wanted it clarified before she went any further.

&n
bsp; “With your assumption that you need to reward me for helping. You’re damn right.”

  “Oh.” Well, that was good, wasn’t it? Definitely. “Okay, so you will help?”

  He gave an aggrieved sigh. “Yes.”

  So far, so good. “Will you also accompany me to the party?”

  Flattening one hand on the door, Eric leaned toward her. Despite his dark frown, there was something else in his eyes, something expectant. He looked at her mouth, and his jaw clenched. “Yes.”

  She licked her lips, saw his eyes narrow, and shivered. “The thing is,” she said, sounding a bit breathless, “I have to give you a bonus. I’m giving everyone a bonus, so if I don’t, the employees might begin to talk.”

  He stilled, then leaned away from her again, shoving his hands deep into his pants pockets. He scowled. “That would bother you? If they talked, I mean?”

  She didn’t want anyone to say anything negative about Eric! Her possessiveness over him had amused her father, but he’d promised never to say a thing to Eric, and as far as she knew, he hadn’t.

  What her father had done instead was worse, because it had backfired in a big way. “I just think we should avoid gossip whenever possible.”

  Looking resigned, Eric nodded. “What do you want me to do for the party? Hell, I don’t even know what goes into planning a party. I’ve never done it before.”

  Maggie tried a nervous smile. “As I said, most of it is taken care of. But I had those offers from the guys … so I said you were helping. That’s okay?”

  He gave a sharp nod, distracted by some inner thought.

  “The hall and caterers are taken care of. And I’ve already started to … well, decorate the offices a little.”

  Some of the rigidness left Eric’s shoulders. She loved his body, how hard it was, how tall and strong. He did nothing to emphasize his muscular bulk, but his leisurely attempts at style managed it anyway. He always rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, displaying his thick wrists and solid forearms. Even the look of his watch on his wrist, surrounded by dark crisp hair, seemed incredibly sensual and masculine. And his open shirt collar, which showed even more hair on his chest, made her feel too warm in too many places. She imagined he was somewhat hairy all over, but she wanted to know for sure. She wanted to touch him everywhere.

  His walk was long and easy, his strength something he took for granted. His corduroy slacks appeared soft and were sometimes worn shiny in the most delectable places—like across his fly.

  She forced herself to quit staring and met his gaze. “Why are you smiling?”

  “Because I like seeing you enthused about something again.”

  Her eyes nearly crossed in her embarrassment. He knew how enthusiastic she was about his body?

  Eric chuckled at her startled expression. “I remember how excited you used to get over Christmas.” He reached out and touched her gold barrette with one long, rough finger. “What happened to those cute little bells you used to wear, Maggie?”

  Cute? She’d assumed that she was far too immature for Eric, what with her silly holiday dressing. So she’d tried to look more sophisticated, more mature, in order to get his attention. But every day it had seemed like additional distance had come between them.

  Her father had thought the lure of the company would be enough to get Eric to notice her. The letter he’d included to her in his will had stated as much. He was giving her a chance at the man she wanted, and she loved him so much for his well-meaning efforts. But instead of having the desired result, Eric wanted less to do with her than ever.

  He’d said he didn’t want the presidency. Evidently he didn’t want her, either. Yet. But she was working on it.

  Maggie pulled the door open and prayed he wouldn’t notice the mistletoe until it was too late. “I’m not eighteen anymore, Eric. And I’m the boss. I can’t be caught dashing up and down the hallways, jingling with bells and disturbing everyone.”

  He stepped into the doorframe with her. “You never disturbed me, hon.” His eyes darkened and his mouth tilted in a crooked, thoroughly endearing smile. “At least, not the way you think.”

  Maggie had no idea what he meant by that, and besides, she needed all her concentration to screw up her daring. She drew a deep breath, smiled, and then said, “Oh, look. We’re under the mistletoe.”

  Eric faltered for just a heartbeat, but she moved too quickly for him. Grabbing his neck with both hands, she pulled him down as she went on tiptoe. She heard his indrawn breath, felt the heat of his big body, and then her mouth was smashed over his and lights exploded behind her eyelids.

  She moaned.

  Eric held very still. “Uh, Maggie?” he whispered against her lips.

  “Hmmm?” No way was she letting him go yet. This was very, very nice.

  She felt the touch of his right hand in her hair, then his left was at her waist and he said in a low, rough rumble, “If we’re going to do this, baby, let’s do it right.”

  Maggie’s eyes opened in surprise, but slowly sank shut again as Eric drew her so close that their bodies blended together from hips to shoulders. Her breasts, feeling remarkably sensitive, flattened against the hard wall of his chest. Her pelvis cradled his, and she became aware of his erection, which literally stole her breath away.

  He wanted her? He liked kissing her?

  His large hand opened on the small of her back and urged her closer still, until she felt his every pulsing heartbeat in the most erotic way possible. With a subtle shifting of his head, his mouth settled more comfortably against hers and he took control of the kiss. And wow, what a kiss it was!

  He left her mouth for a brief moment to nuzzle beneath her ear. “Relax, Maggie.”

  What a ludicrous suggestion! She felt strung so tight, her body throbbed. “Okay.”

  She gave him all her weight and sighed as every pleasurable sensation intensified. His open mouth left a damp trail from her throat to her chin to her lips. She shivered. His tongue slid over her lips, teasing, and then into her mouth. Oh, God. She tried to stay calm, but it was so incredible, so delicious, that her breath came faster and her nipples tingled into hard tips and a sweet ache expanded low in her belly.

  Eric growled low, a primitive response that thrilled her. His tongue, damp and hot, stroked deeply into her, over her own tongue, tasting her, exploring her.

  Her hands knotted in his shirt, she arched into him, and then—she heard the tiny twitter of a feminine laugh.

  Stunned when Eric suddenly pulled away, Maggie would have stumbled if he hadn’t kept her upright with one strong arm wrapped around her waist. He glared over his shoulder, and there stood his secretary and two male employees.

  Mortified heat exploded beneath Maggie’s skin, making her dizzy. Everyone stood in heavy silence.

  She was the boss, Maggie told herself, she had to take control of this small turn in events. Clearing her throat even as she stepped out of Eric’s reach, Maggie said, “Well. I thought everyone had gone home already.” She raised a brow, silently asking for an explanation.

  “We were just about to leave,” his secretary, Janine, informed them.

  Eric dropped back to lean against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. He seemed either oblivious or unconcerned with the fact that he had a very noticeable erection. Despite the impropriety, it thrilled Maggie, because at least that meant he was interested.

  Of course, she had been rubbing up against him rather thoroughly, and that could account for the physical reaction. Mere friction?

  Maggie stepped in front of him, shielding him with her body, and pointed up. “Mistletoe,” she explained to her audience.

  The secretary smiled like a damned cat and glided forward, her intent plain. “So I see. How … fortunate.”

  Not about to let anyone else touch Eric now that she’d gotten him revved up, Maggie stationed herself in front of him like a sentinel. When the secretary merely looked at her, Maggie made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go on
home, Janine. I’m not approving any overtime today. Go on.”

  Janine barely bit back a smile. “But…”

  Eric, sounding on the verge of laughter, said, “I think it’s just the mistletoe she’s after, Maggie, not more pay.”

  Maggie sent him a quelling glance over her shoulder, before addressing the woman again. “There’s more down the hall,” Maggie assured her, trying to shoo her on her way. “I put some in all the doorways. You two,” she added, pointing to the men, both of whom had been pursuing her earlier, “go with her. Find some mistletoe. Go.”

  The men, displaying a sense of discretion, hid their amusement and escorted the willing secretary out. Maggie glared at them until they were completely gone from sight, mumbling under her breath about pushy women.

  “You want to explain that?” Eric asked.

  “Hmmm?” Maggie turned to face him. “Explain what?”

  “Why you turned into a ferocious amazon just because Janine wanted to kiss me. I mean, kissing is the purpose of mistletoe, right? And you’re the one who hung it in my doorway.”

  “Well.” Of course kissing was the point, but she wanted to be the only one taking advantage of it with Eric.

  Maggie couldn’t quite look at him as she tried to figure out how to get things back on track. Which meant getting his mouth back on hers, his hands touching her again. “I put you in that awkward situation by kissing you,” she muttered, thinking it out as she went along, “so I didn’t want you to feel … obligated … to kiss anyone else. I was … protecting you.”

  “So you don’t personally care if Janine kisses me? I mean, if the mistletoe stays there, I assume she’ll take care of it in the morning.”

  It was hard to speak with her teeth clenched. “No,” she ground out, nearly choking on the lie. “If you want to kiss Janine, that’s certainly your business.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I see.” In the next instant he surprised her by plucking the mistletoe down and shoving it into his pants pocket.

  Maggie gave a silent prayer of relief. But when she peeked up at him, she felt doubly foolish for the confusion and annoyance on his face.