“You do that.” My lips turn up in a smile. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
“I won’t.” She yells running off. Hope whatever broke wasn’t something expensive.
When I arrive at my desk, I pull up my company staff listing and command my computer to dial a few for me. Apologizing for the late invite, I ask six of them to the dinner party. Happily, they all accept. Good. I’ll enjoy conversations with people I actually like. As soon as I hang up with the last person, I call Caitlyn into my office. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say about the change of plans.
“I invited six people to the party from the office. So we’re back to twelve for dinner, including you and me.”
“Ahhhh.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No. Sir. No problem. It’s just I told Chef Henri there would be only six.”
I grin, anticipating the Gallic outburst from my French chef. “Well, go tell him that number has doubled.”
“Very well, Sir.”
“And Ms. Bennett?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“If you run into any problems with Chef Henri, let me know.” I pay him enough money for him to jump through whatever culinary hoop I ask him to jump through.
The dinner party is not the disaster I expect. My employees, of course, know each other so it’s easy to see why their conversation flows. But I’m surprised by those of the Washington elite who managed to attend. They’re actually interested in my business and ask intelligent questions of both my staff and me. The abundance of premium spirits-wine at the table, top notch liquor afterward doesn’t hurt. After dinner, we retire to the music room where I arranged for a string quartet to serenade us. Caitlyn vanishes, probably to check things in the kitchen. God only knows what she promised my cook to get him to cooperate.
While she’s gone, one of the lesser luminaries of the Washington elite, Connor Gardner, makes his excuses. He has another engagement to attend. Strange. He sounds like he’s in pain. Maybe he’s not a fan of string quartets. At midnight the last of our guests stumbles out, half inebriated, to where his limo driver waits for him. I return to the living room to thank Caitlyn. But she’s not there. I go searching for her and find her in the library, trolling the shelves.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a book that Brandon suggested.” Brandon Lattimer, my head of finance. They’d been thick as thieves during dinner. “Ah, here it is.”
“What is it?”
“Valuation for Mergers and Acquisitions. He recommended I read it before Hong Kong.”
“I should have known Brandon would waste his time at the dinner table talking shop.”
“He didn’t. Well, not much. I asked him what he did and I was able to follow him up to a point, but then when I couldn’t quite understand everything, he recommended this book.”
“It’s not exactly scintillating reading.” I take it from her hand, and she tenses up.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. May I have the book, please?”
But I can tell she’s upset. She’s not her usual vibrant self. “Something happened. Tell me.”
“It’s nothing.” The more she denies it, the more I’m sure something’s wrong.
“Ms. Bennett, I can’t abide liars. Now tell me the truth.” Sensing she’s getting ready to run, I grab her hand to stop her.
She gasps. “Ouch.”
I immediately let go. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It wasn’t you.”
Somebody hurt her? “Who?”
“No one. I… I hurt myself.”
“No. You didn’t. Tell me. Tell me, Caitlyn, or, by God, I’ll shake it out of you.”
She breathes out a hard sigh. “Connor Gardner. He pulled me into the game room and tried to …”
I’ll get the bastard if it’s the last thing that I do. “Tried to what?”
“He tried to kiss me. When I pushed him away, he yanked my arm. I struggled while he-”
I growl.
“Anyway, I managed to free myself and ran out. That’s all.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” I’ll make sure the son of a bitch pays. Connor Gardner lives on the fringes of society, going from one party to the other. I invited him because he can be amusing at times and because he contributes the occasional column to the Style section of The Washington Courier. I’d hoped he would report on the party. But now, I sincerely hope he doesn’t. If he does, I’ll sue the bastard.
“He’s your guest. I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”
“You’re my guest as well, and my employee. You are to be treated honorably.” Not like a piece of meat. He’ll regret what he did to her. I have ways of making him pay. “Did he bruise your wrist?”
“A-a little.”
“I’ll pummel the bastard.”
“You don’t have to.” Strangely, her voice holds a smile. “I kneed him before I ran out.”
I laugh. “And here I thought the string quartet chased him away.”
“It’s not funny.” Her joy has turned to anger. As well it should.
“Oh, my sweet girl. I’m so sorry this happened to you. Nobody should ever hurt you.” Without thinking about what who she is, who I am, I kiss her wrist.
She makes a sound of some kind. Not a protest, but a surprise. For a a couple of heartbeats, neither of us say anything. What is there to say? I’m her boss. She’s my employee. We’re headed toward forbidden territory. Again. But it’s too late to take back the kiss.
She wiggles her hand loose from my grasp. “I should go. It’s late.”
I don’t want her to leave. “Stay.”
“I … can’t, Mr. MacKay.”
“Sterling. Sure you can.” Reaching out, I find her shoulder and trail the satiny skin of her shoulder blade. Only a thin spaghetti strap greets me, one which wouldn’t take much to tear off. Resisting the temptation, I continue my journey to her throat, her jaw. My thumb rubs against her lips, soft as an angel’s wings. The sweetness of her beats at me. I want another taste of her mouth, of her.
“Wh-What are you doing?”
I chance a smile. “If you don’t know, I’m doing a lousy job of it.” My lips seek out the heartbeat in her throat, the one that throbs beneath her silky skin. She smells of something citrusy. Oranges, lemons. Whatever it is, I want to eat her up.
“Someone could come in.” She chokes out.
She’s right damn it. But there’s a simple solution. Trying hard to keep my lust in check, I step back. If she remains, it will be her decision. I won’t force myself on her. There’s only one entrance to the library and it locks from the inside. “The door has a lock. Turn it and stay or open it and leave. Your choice.” I kiss the hollow of her throat, nibble the spot where her heart beats beneath.
She’s trembling in my arms, but she doesn’t push away like before. “What will you do if I stay?”
Does she really need to ask? Very well. “Kiss you, taste you. Have my wicked way with you.” I love bite her collarbone so she knows what to expect.
Her breath harshes as her heart goes to double time. She likes what I’m doing to her. There’s a lot more. If she’s willing to take a chance.
“Will you stop if I ask you to?” Her question comes out in a whisper.
Pure lust shoots through me. My cock hardens, grows. She’s tempted by my offer. And that’s more than I had before. “Yes.” Even if I have to turn myself into knots.
She doesn’t do anything but stand there, more than likely weighing the consequences of what will happen if she stays. “I think I should go.”
“I’ll understand if you do. But”-I capture her hand in mine, bring it to my lips, lick the pulse in her wrist-“don’t you want to know?” I’m not playing fair, but I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want this one innocent rose.
“Know what?”
“How good we can be? I can make you feel things you’ve never felt, t
ake you to places you’ve never been.” I wrap my hand around the hair she’s left loose down her back and pull so I can have better access to her mouth.
“How do you know what I’ve felt, where I’ve been?” Her voice’s gone breathless.
“I know everything about you, Caitlyn.” Teasing a finger beneath a spaghetti strap, I play with it.
Pushing my hand away, she comes upright. “You checked me out?” She sounds offended. I don’t know why. Any other employer would have investigated her.
But strangely enough, I never got around to it. “No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Every word you spoke, every sound you made, your scent, your actions. You revealed yourself to me in ways you can’t comprehend. I know you’re innocent.”
She jerks. “I’m not. I had a boyfriend.”
“Maybe you’re no longer a virgin, but trust me, you’re innocent of men.”
“And you’re going to change that?”
“I will, if you let me.” She’s teetering on the edge of consent but fearful of taking the leap into the unknown.
“And you will do what to me? Specifically, I mean?”
“Oh, my sweet Caitlyn. I will do things with you, not to you. There is a difference, you know. And it requires your approval. If you want to know, all you have to do is lock the door and stay.” From the moment I met her, I sensed her innate goodness. I want to surround myself with that innocence, that lack of subterfuge, even while I try my best to seduce her. I’m a bastard, I know.
On slow steps she walks toward the entrance to the library. The door opens and closes.
I whoosh out a breath. “Well, that’s that.” Hard and aching for her, I lean my head against the bookshelf. Should have known. She’s too pure, too innocent to take a chance on me. And who would want a blind man to make love to you?
Something snips, and the light dims. The little I could see is gone. Did she abandon me to the dark? Is that my punishment for trying to seduce her? Panic beats at me. “Caitlyn?”
The air shifts around me. Her scent surrounds me again.
She curls her hand around mine. “I’m here, Sterling. You’re not alone. I never left.”
Chapter Nine
Caitlyn
Letting out a laugh, he pulls me into him. I don’t get a chance to say anything. He’s too busy devouring my mouth. I know enough about men to know what he’s doing, where he’s coming from, what he wants. But he did promise to stop if I asked him to.
“Why did you turn down the lights?” he asks.
“I wanted to be the same as you.” It’s silly. I know. Even with the dim illumination, I can probably see more than he can. But it’s a way to connect, to let him know I’m the same as him.
“You’re not the same.”
When I protest, he brushes his finger against my lips. To silence me. “You’re so much better. Kinder, sweeter, caring.”
In the shadows, his big, powerful hands explore me, mapping the nooks and crannies of my arms, caressing my throat. Before I can draw breath, his lips mold themselves to mine, stealing my breath, my will. I’m shaking like a leaf from the way he makes me feel.
He picks me up, swings me around. “The chaise longue is in front of us?”
“Yes. About three feet.”
He takes three steps and settles me on the velvet softness. “I want to taste you.”
“Wouldn’t you rather kiss me first?”
“I will be kissing you.” His hand caresses my stockinged leg to the bare skin above.
“You’re wearing-”
“A garter belt?”
His smile resembles that of a young boy who’s found some hidden treasure. “Is that what you bought with my money?”
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t have paid me back,” he says kissing my thigh.
“Why?”
“Because I will be keeping them.”
“You like trophies.”
“Yes.”
He unsnaps the garter belt while I run my hand through his hair. I love his smell, that expensive cologne and that spicy scent I suspect it’s just him. The stocking comes off in his hand. “Lift.” He rolls one off me and then the other and then gently, so gently raises the them of the dress until I’m exposed. All that remains below are the lacy panties and the garter belt.
“What color is the belt?”
“White?”
“Of course it is.”
He kisses my calves, my knees, my thighs. Panic sets in. Am I really going to allow him to seduce me, here on this couch? I’m not a virgin. I told him the truth about that. But my college boyfriend only liked a quick fumble in the dark. He’d fall asleep as soon as he was done. He’d never given me much pleasure. But now with Sterling’s mouth on me. I didn’t know such decadent things existed. And he’s my boss. I’m his employee. It feels like he’s paying to do these things to me. All of a sudden it’s too much. “Stop, please stop.”
His head jerks up. “What?”
I scoot off the couch. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“I work for you. This is not part of my duties. At least it shouldn’t be.”
His hand roams up my arm, across my shoulder, encircles my throat. I swallow hard. My chest pumps air in and out of my lungs while his hand encircles my jaw, plucks at my lip. “You’re always on the clock. Whenever, wherever, however I want you.”
“Not like this. Please,” I whisper. Just that one word. Nothing more.
He drops his hand and steps back. “Very well. Go.”
I don’t wait, but race to the door, unlock it, and hightail it up the stairs to my room. I cross the threshold, shut the door, collapse against it. My heartbeat drums in my ears even as I gasp for breath. Should I pack, leave? How can I? I have nowhere to go. No. That’s not an option. I have my mother’s bills to pay back. I need this job. I’ll just have to stay away from him.
I’ve been too casual, asked him too many personal questions, noticed things I shouldn’t have, like how thin he looks, how soft his hair gleams n the light, how full his lips are. And here in the darkness of my room, I’ve wondered what it would feel like to have them against me. Yeah, I’ve pretty much brought this on myself. I’ve got to manage my reaction to him. He may not be able to see, but he sure as hell knows what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling. I have to reign in my emotions. Stop trembling when he comes near, don’t look at him too long. Stop wondering what it would feel like to have him hold me, kiss me, make love to me. God. I can’t believe I’m this far gone. He’s my boss. I can’t go to bed with him. I just can’t.
Chapter Ten
Caitlyn
The following morning, I wake up sluggish and bleary-eyed. No wonder. I did not get much sleep during the night. I kept replaying the scene in the library over and over again. I regret remaining behind. He’d given me the opportunity to leave. If I’d had any sense, I would have, but I was beyond tempted by his voice, his words, his scent. His hunger for me. I’ve never had a man want me that much.
But he’s my boss, my employer. I was hired as his personal assistant, not his plaything. Problem is I liked what he did to me. Those kisses in the dark and the way he touched me, licked me, savored me. It was like he couldn’t get enough of me. I was tempted to do the same to him, even though I’ve never done that before. And I’m way too intimidated to touch him the same way he touched me. Besides, it’s something that can’t happen again. Not ever. I’ll just have to keep everything on a business level and never get caught again with him in the dark.
It’s Sunday morning which means Belgian waffles and strawberries. Two weeks ago I would have killed for such food, but today I can’t drum up much enthusiasm for breakfast. Because it means I will have to face him. While in the shower, I entertain the idea of hiding all day in my room. I could phone Moseley and ask for my food to be brought to me. But that would make me a coward, and that’s something I’m not.
Aft
er dressing in a pair of jeans, a blouse and a warm sweater, I drag my feet down the stairs. Because of the party, breakfast is not being served until eleven. A good thing since I woke up late. But after that, a whole day of nothing awaits me. How will I pass the time? No football today. It’s the break between the playoffs and the Super Bowl. I could always bone up on the finance book Sterling’s VP of Finance recommended. Or maybe I could catch a movie. But it’s beyond freezing out there. The weather forecasters are calling for a wind chill of -5 degrees. The thought of going out leaves me cold in more ways than one.
I enter the dining room fully expecting to see him at the head of the table, his usual spot. Except he’s not. Maybe he’s having his breakfast served in his room. From something Moseley said, it’s something he used to do before I worked for him.
“Good morning, Ms. Bennett.” Moseley, polite as always, greets me.
I dredge up a simple, “Morning,” with no enthusiasm to my voice. Why am I disappointed Sterling’s not here when I dread seeing him again? It makes no sense. And yet, there it is.
Silently, he fills my glass with what appears to be orange juice, except the glass is a flute so it’s probably mimosa-orange juice and champagne.
“Hair of the dog?” I ask.
“Mr. MacKay likes to drink mimosas the morning after a dinner party. Would you like something else?”
“This is fine. But if I could also have coffee and water, that would be great.” The caffeine would wake me up and the H2O would hydrate me. Last night I drank too much wine. Maybe I should use that as the reason for my lapse in judgment.
“Of course.”
I gulp half the mimosa, but the bubbly concoction fails to lift my spirits.
Sure steps sound behind me. I turn to see Sterling, looking as dapper as ever in gray slacks, shirt, and v-neck sweater, walking toward me. The color accentuates the silver in his eyes. Taking his seat, he greets me in his usual voice. As if nothing happened last night. “Good morning, Ms. Bennett.”
I mumble back my response, “Good morning.”
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